#isaiah jesus fluff

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[writing-whump]

Sun poisoning

This is a thing, I kid you not. Have some sunburned Matthew with unlikely caretaker Arnie, plus some Matt and Seline fluff. This is one of the vacation prompts from @lisupandowntown. Thank you!!

Or if they go to the sea, someone has to get heat exhaustion - Matt maybe? And starting out with unlikely caretaker Arnie, but then passing him off to both Isaiah and Seline, who step in to tag team?

"Hey? Matt, is that you?"

Matthew groaned in response, trying to unglue himself from the sand. It was the only little shade made by the wall of the cliff leading up towards the restaurants. Or it was, when he collased in it.

Not it just felt hot. Everything felt hot.

"What are you doing here? It's like 4 pm." Arnie's voice was just as obnoxious as always, adding to the headache. "You don't meant to tell me you were here since morning, do you?"

Morning? Matt didn't think it was that early. Right after their regular sparring and breakfast he went to jog along the beach. Since the beaches were endless and had different terrain, Matt kept following the path. The sand and the slight tilt of it made the running harder and therefore improved different muscles. He would be stronger from this.

It was easy to ignore the heat when he was touching the wet sand and the cold water.

Maybe that was the catch, really.

"Wh're did y'come from...?"

Arnie's slim shape actually threw a bit of shadow on his head. Matthew sighed quietly. He couldn't call on his shadow at all, seriously asking himself if it could be overheated into oblivion.

"Just got off the sea taxi. This one goes from Nessebar to the Sea Wind resort, but not all the way to our seaport. I was about to hunt down a taxi." The younger boy crouched down in front of the wolf. "Jesus, your back looks horrible."

Matt wasn't sure he wanted to know. The skin on his back felt tight and itchy and too warm and his head hurt. But it wasn't so bad on the ground as it was standing up.

"Come on, we need to get you off the sun before you melt."

There was a long beat of silence. Matthew wondered if this was his cue to doze back off again.

"Matt, did you hear me?"

"Urgh. What do y'want? Leave me the fuck alone..." The conversation was draining his already very small energy reserves, and it felt like someone had clenched his temples together with a pair of tongs.

"No can do. You pass out here and you could die, you know? Heat exhaustion is a pretty serious thing, even for wolves. Were you never on a beach vacation either?"

Matt just grunted, turning his head away. Everything was too sunny and hot and too much. Arnie was too much. He always was.

"Matt, I'm going to touch your arm, okay?"

When Matt didn't protest, he felt cool fingertips against the top of his shoulder. The touch was tentative and feather-light like Arnie was scared the skin would come right off.

"There is a shower like 5 meters from here. I'll help you, but you gotta move...I can't do this on my own."

Something about that phrase bothered him. It sounded more like a defeated admission than a complaint.

Matthew grumbled under his breath but forced his arms against the moving sand to lift himself up. His hands were shaking from the extortion and he bit back a moan at moving. His whole back ached terribly, the muscles under the skin pulling at it with needles.

Arnie's tiny frame got under his arm that instant, propping him up. Small but stable and with a willful goal. Matthew lef the steering to him, mustering up all the fuel he could into his legs to get them off the ground and moving.

He couldn't see, stars dancing in his vision as he squinted at the sun. If it wasn't for Arnie he couldn't have held his balance either. Everything was twirling. His throat hurt like it was coated with sand and his mouth was perched. God, he fucked up something again.

"Okay wait, where are your sunglasses? Ah I see them, hang on-" Arnie bend down swiftly to get the discarded sunglasses that dug into the side of Matthew's head lying down and put them back on his head.

They stumbled towards the shower, which was just a pillar with a shower head at the end. Matthew leaned against it as another support point, afraid to topple the fragile blonde boy beside him.

"Alright, we made it. Bend down a little..." Arnie fumbled with a little stick that turned the shower off.

Ice-cold water exploded over Matthew's overheated head. He groaned as it assaulted his senses. It was like a strike to the head.

"Shhhh, hang on, hang on. I swear this will help," Arnie assured him frantically, holding onto Matthew's elbow to steady him. "Just a bit longer."

The effect was energizing, though. The world came back into focus as Matthew blinked and straightened, readjusting his wet glasses over his eyes. He was finally able to enjoy the shade they provided. His hair dripped with the cold water sliding down his exposed back, but the sensation was more soothing than painful.

Arnie was holding his sleeveless black top in a sandy ball in his hands. "Can you get it on? Or you think it will hurt too much?"

"I'm not hurt," Matthew protested, glad his voice had some strength to it again. Fuh, that was a close one.

Arnie shook his head. "Sure, you are not. I'll leave that revelation for your pack to handle...think you can walk? We need to find a road where a taxi can pick us up."

"It's like 30 minutes down the beach per foot-"

"We're taking a taxi," Arnie said decisively. "Your brain is fried, so I'm in charge."

Matthew huffed in amusement. That was such a wolf thing to say.

Arnie grabbed him by the elbow unceremoniously and dragged him away from the shower before he could protest. Even if he wanted to—he was way bigger and stronger than the kid—he stumbled along awkwardly. He still felt off-kilter, like he was drunk.

Arnie chose the first and most expensive taxi they found on the street and ushered Matt inside, not caring one bit the driver didn't understand German. Or English or any language Matthew heard about. Arnie just kept repeating the name of the apartment complex they stayed at and it seemed to do the trick.

Matthew didn't want to wear the sweaty shirt, but leaning back against the seat left him hissing at the pain. "Ow, fuck."

"See? Told you."

"Why do you have to sound so damn happy about it?" Matt leaned his forehead against the front seat, glad Arnie was behind the driver so he could hold onto it. The jostling of the car, on top of his headache and hotness, had his stomach flipping.

Arnie frowned, offended. "I'm not happy, geez. Don't say that."

Matt was quiet as the taxi moved, trying to swallow whatever hot, scratchy thing was trying to claw its way up his thirsty throat. His mouth was burning. "So what were you doing there? Alone?" He ended up saying in an attempt for distraction.

"Well, who else would go with me? You guys spend all your time on the pup training, pass out inside, swim and do it all over again."

"That's why you sleep till noon and then avoid everyone for the rest of the day?"

"I'm not avoiding anyone. It's just...don't really have a place with the wolves, do I?" Arnie pouted, watching the colorful designs of various hotels and apartments behind the window. "I'm not troublesome enough for attention..." His voice trailed off. The blonde cleared it, starting with a new poisonous vigor. "You are going about it in a good way, though. Everyone is always so worried, Isaiah watches you more than Hector."

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, muffling a burp against his fist. His limbs felt so heavy he had to let his hand drop back immediately, pressing only his forehead against the back of the seat. "That's nonsense. If you just showed up, nobody would ignore you."

Arnie huffed, giving him a quick glance before looking away again.

"I don't get you, man...if I could get rid of the shadow...if I could just focus on the people for five minutes instead of fighting it...I would be always tagging along."

Arnie's eyes widened as he took a double glance at Matthew. "What?! I have never seen a wolf not wanting his shadow."

Matthew snorted, head trailing off to the side at a sudden turn. He ended up plastered against the cool surface of the window. "You should enjoy how clear your mind is. You got a working brain and yet you only mouth off to others...I don't see what is there to have a complex about."

"Hector has a clear mind enough. He doesn't need...it's no use." Arnie sounded uncharacteristically small as he said it.

Matthew gulped down heavily. The nausea was a constant now, bubbling up in his cramping stomach. He shut his eyes again. "Oh, he could have use of you, alright. He is a self-centered despot who can't see farther than his nose. You...you can read people. You could help him a bunch."

"With the pack?"

"With everything." Arnie could read people, Matt was sure of it, or his biting remarks wouldn't be so effective. He must have had empathy somewhere in there.

Now that he thought of it, though, what if Arnie and Hector stuck together so much because they were both really bad at socializing? Hector didn't know how to talk with people he wasn't ordering around. Arnie couldn't be bothered to say anything nice, but he knew exactly where it would hurt.

Instead of answering, Arnie studied him for a long moment. Matthew almost managed to dose off, when Arnie shook his arm gently. "We are here."

The blonde actually circled the car to open Matthew's door and hold it for him as he fell out of it, paying the driver and waving him off. "Still standing? Do you need to lean on me some more?"

"I can manage," Matthew said tensely, but when Arnie wiggled himself under his arm again, he didn't protest. Obviously, Arnie had enough experience with prideful wolves.

Especially since the way to their apartment was down the hill over the unsteady stony steps and then up to the third floor of the building again. The little steadying pressure of Arnie against him was keeping Matt upright.

Three on the way they had to stop because Matt's head was spinning too much. Twice, he thought he was going to vomit and one time he actually retched. The impact had his skull shaking in his head.

When they finally reached the right door, they were both panting for breath.

"Here. Will you manage?"

Matt grabbed the doorframe with one hand. "Yeah. Thanks." Which sounded way too weak for how much effort Arnie just put into dragging his ass from the beach.

"Hey, Arnie?" Matt pressed his left temple again the cool metal of the frame, afraid the door would collapse under his full weight.

"Yes?"

"There is nothing 'cool' about being the one everyone worries about." He let out a long exhale. "Trust me. Don't play the victim. You just give up all your power like that."

He felt too dizzy to lift his eyes and watch Arnie's expression, but when no remark came, Matt counted it as a win and shuffled inside.

...

"I told you not to be in the sun during lunch! And to wear suncream and a shirt at all times!" Seline was hissing into his ear, but even in her anger, her voice was quiet. She was taking his headache more seriously than he did.

"I was wearing the shirt," he grumbled, folding his hands under his head. "...got it off when I was hot."

"That's your clue to get out of the sun, not to roast in it!" She was currently kneeling at his side, applying a generous dosage of transcutaneous but thick aloe vera all over his back.

The touch hurt although her hands were careful. He still felt so overheated and he couldn't stand lying on his back or have anything touch it. The pain felt like he was burned alive and it the aftershocks lasted long.

Hell, he couldn't move properly, with how much area was affected. Not that he wanted to. There was a heavy, floaty feeling all over him, as if he had a fever and the nausea was still tingling in his insides.

"I can't believe you," Seline muttered darkly under her nose, massaging the cream on his burnt shoulders and upper arms too. "You are banned from going out without sleeves, you moron."

Matthew moaned, more to be dramatic than in actual pain. He was lying down in a nicely cool room and Seline was fussing over him. Maybe a little attention didn't hurt after all.

He felt such relief collapsing on top of the duvet in the living room and letting her take care of him. No need to understand anything when she was there, acting like she had done it hundreds of times before.

Still worth her care.

The knowledge settled his insides and made him sigh in relief, more likely to sleep than pass out, nausea or not.

Seline put the back of her cool hand against his warm dry cheek. "You need to drink lots of fluids."

"Hmmm....this feels good. Your hands are always so cold."

Seline snorted. "That's bad blood circulation, not an advantage, silly."

Matthew could only whine as her hand disappeared. She went to the sink and brought him a big glass of water.

He turned to the side, not attempting to lift himself up.

Seline sighed but held the rim to his lips as he took a few careful sips. He was so thirsty, but the water landed like tons of bricks in his stomach and he wasn't about to dial the nausea up more.

Getting back to her feet, she pursed her lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Isaiah's still sleeping?"

"Yep. Out like a light on clock." As if even his body seeked order and routine, Isaiah always napped in the afternoon. Seline and Matt tried not to let it alarm them. He was still recovering, even if he acted almost normal.

"I think you'll skip practice today," she commented, looking over his back again. "I hope this won't peel off. It might hurt more in 24 hours, so let me know if you don't want a painkiller-"

She stopped when she noticed his fingers snatching at her long flowy turquoise dress. Matt had never seen her wear so many dresses, but she had nothing else on during this trip. Jumping from one to another.

"Could just stay with me?" Matt mumbled sleepily.

"Of course." She climbed up on the duvet, sitting down against the wall, facing the TV. "You are in for some Korean romance dramas though."

Matthew rolled his eyes, rolling so he could rest his head in her lap. He wrapped his arms around her tights, securing his human pillow.

Her cold hands went into his hair, combing through them. Matt melted at the contact, a content noise escaping as he closed his eyes.

Soon the TV started to play behind his head, but it was quiet, Seline focusing on the subtitles.

Her fingers scratched against his scalp gently. "Don't run yourself to the ground again. Please. If something isn't right...if you are worried about something, you can tell me."

Matthew hummed, but he could hardly make his brain work through the sleepy fogginess. "I'm alright...same old, same old." That was the problem, really. That he wasn't improving, that his issues were always the same.

A sudden jolt of fear had him tensing up. "I'm not keeping a secret. I'm never going to keep anything from you again. Promise."

Her other hand stroked his cheek soothingly, but he felt her breathe out at the words as well. "Okay. I'm-...yes, I would like that."

The energy shot left just as quickly. Matt deflated like a balloon into her lap again, wincing as it pulled at his back.

His conversation with Arnie flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes again. "I'm no good...at being a wolf."

I'm so sorry.

"Hmmm, you are right." She said so nonchalantly. Matthew's breath caught, his stomach sinking.

"You don't really remind me of a wolf. A dragon maybe?" Her voice was gentle, lightly teasing. "You look all scary and breathe fire at people, but you are so protective of what's yours. And," he could hear the smile in her voice, "you are all red."

He chuckled despite himself, relaxing under her hands. "That's your argument?"

"Well, you are! From hair to toe at the moment."

"What does this line of thinking make you then, an ocean pixie?"

"This is not the ocean, it's Black Sea!"

"...exactly my point. You love it so much. Now that I think about it, you are kinda obsessed with blue." He turned his head so he could watch her face get adorably flushed, stormy eyes sparkling.

"S-so what?"

Matt laughed at the stutter. "Dragon. Huh, I like that." Felt more like a title than a label. He loved she somehow turned his worst failure into a honorific.

It suited him just fine.

[writerpey]

Could i request a Thomas Shleby with a (1-3) gender neutral age regressor reader? If you want, maybe they could be a peaky blinder's sibling (not a Shelby, maybe Isaiah Jesus) and Tom wants to keep reader safe and take care of them while the boy does his jobs? I don't know how much of age regression they would understand due to the time period it is set in but also think at least Thomas or Polly would piece together the "why" and "when" reader regresses (especially since Thomas seems to be very aware of other's behavior and also maybe traumas since he can relate and/or is very good at reading people) so they kinda go along with it? It would be nice to see just some nice fluff and Tommy comforting reader while they wait for their brother and just enjoy themselves playing in his office maybe Tom putting them down for a nap so they don't get cranky when their sibling arrives

I hope it doesn't sound weird, since it's one of my first requests sorry!

hello my dear! so sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so. long. I’ve been working on it on and off for the past while! I hope u enjoy <3

Cg Tommy Shelby & Little!Reader - A Little Storytime

WC: 968

As Isaiah Jesus’ half-sibling, you were well aware of the ins and outs of the Peaky Blinders. The heists, protection, and even wars that they were responsible for in Birmingham’s streets were a part of daily life. It wasn’t hectic all the time, but the responsibility each member had was immense and came with more baggage than you had ever been interested in carrying.

Yet you did have responsibility, and it was in making sure your regression didn’t get in the way of your brother’s duties. As far as you knew, no one other than your brother knew about your age regression, or at least drew attention to your coping mechanism. You had an inkling that Polly and Thomas had an idea that something was going on. Disappearing for entire days or clinging to your brother when there were too many people around wasn’t necessarily the most unassuming of things.

All of these thoughts ended rather rapidly when Tommy took matters into his own hands. You were busy playing with Isaiah, sitting on the floor of the betting shop and flipping through a picture book. He sat across from you, his suit jacket and hat draped across one of the desks haphazardly. A day off for the shop, only Polly remained in her office, door closed and blinds pulled down. You were having a nice time, that is until Tommy barged into the shop, shouldering the wooden door open in anger.

“Isaiah!” He nearly shouted, causing both you and your brother to jump.

“Holy hell, Tommy! What is it?” Isaiah gasped, springing up to his feet as you curled into yourself. Tommy paid you no attention, sights set on Isaiah.

“You were due at the docks two hours ago. D’you want to be replaced?” Tommy’s cerulean eyes flashed.

Isaiah gulped, grabbing his jacket and putting his cap on. “No, sir.”

“What’re you waiting for, boy? Go on.” The older man motioned to the door.

“I- uh,” Isaiah offered you a hand and you took it, rising to your feet but refusing to lift your eyes from the floor. “I can’t leave them alone right now.”

Finally, Tommy looked at you. He cocked his head to the side, making a quick assessment. “Well, y’can’t bring ‘em with you. For fuck’s sake, go on, Isaiah.”

Isaiah gave your hand an apologetic squeeze and hurried past Tommy, giving you a last glance before shutting the door behind him.

Not only were you alone with Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders and one of the most intimidating men you had ever laid eyes on, but you were little and he was starting to encroach on your space. In fact, you began to tremble as he seemingly stomped over to you.

It was beyond a surprise when he pulled his cap off and crouched down in front of you, causing your eyes to look into his rather than at the floor.

“Did I frighten you?” He asked after a moment, voice low but strangely gentle. His cerulean eyes were so blue you felt as if you could fall right into them.

Little and honest, you nodded your head and wrung your hands together.

“We can’t have any of that, can we?” Tommy’s voice lilted, and so did your heart in your chest. “C’mon.” He offered you his hand and you shuffled on the spot before taking it.

You cast a stray look back at your book that was still on the floor, bottom lip jutting out slightly. You had really wanted to finish the story with Isaiah! Now you weren’t too sure what exactly it was that Dr. Dolittle was going to do.

Tommy, ever perceptive, picked your book up off the floor, losing the page you were on in the process. Your hand wilted in his grasp. What was he going to do with your lovely picture book that Isaiah had gifted you with?

A soft chuckle from Tommy had your shy gaze looking up at him in surprise. “You want to finish your book, yeah?”

You nodded again, unable to be brave enough to use your voice. He tugged you along, right towards his office — which you had never been inside before. There hadn’t been any need for you to, dealing more often than not with Polly when it came to gang business.

An exasperated, shaky noise slipped past your lips as he opened the door. “‘M I in t-trouble?”

The older man let go of your hand and sat himself down in his chair, in front of a large and meticulously clean desk. “Of course not. Come.” He ordered, though his tone was warmer than you expected.

You shuffled over to him hesitantly, and nearly yelped when he pulled you onto his lap. Your trembling lessened when he handed you your book.

“I lost your page. Y’gonna find it again?” He asked, watching you carefully as you frowned and started flipping through the book. You aah-ed in relief when you landed on the right page, Dr. Dolittle smiling brightly with his rosy cheeks and grey top hat. Already you felt yourself slipping further, feeling tiny in Tommy’s lap and protected by his arms around you.

“Here. I’ll read the words, and you can flip the pages.” He said casually, and began reading the words that you always skipped and didn’t even notice. The story started to come alive right in front of you, and the gentle, low rumbling of Tommy’s voice filled your little heart with everything you needed.

You didn’t even realize you were sleepy, that is until you awoke with your head tucked against Tommy’s chest and the way it softly rose and fell against your cheek. Perfectly comfortable, you snuggled back into him and entered a peaceful sleep, full of dreams of Tommy’s unexpected kindness.

[peakyswritings]

hi!! can i get a shelby!sister x isaiah jesus with 32. fluff and 3 and 6 in angst? it is okay if you don't💓 i adore your writing💜💓

Sure!💕

[byorder-fanfic]

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Isaiah

Preference Masterlist

Word count: 1053

Warnings: reader having hard time, mentions of religion

Author's note: Thank you so much for all your support! I'm so excited to get through the rest of these preferences. As always, feedback is very much appreciated and I'd love to hear your thoughts!! Any more charcater ideas can be submitted through my asks or messages!! Hope you're all doing alright (-:

(Gif by @laheylo) (I love daryl so much!)

Jeremiah used to slip a rosary in Isaiah's pocket before he went to work. Being a Blinder wasn't exactly the most Christian of professions, with moral degradation as a common occupational hazard. Isaiah always loved the reminder that there was something good in him. He was still the son of the preacher, a man who could not be prodder of his (not so) little boy. Eventually, Isaiah didn't need his dad's sneaky reverse-pickpocket to keep the rosary in his coat. At times of true violence and horror, holding onto that rosary has been his saving grace. He was twiddling with the beads in one hand as his other focused on shuffling the door open- it always got jammed, no matter how many times he shoved his shoulder into it. The beads were to help his thoughts from running away with him as he stomped down Small Heath, and now that he was home, he hoped he could finally forget about his day with you.

Except, that was the problem, wasn't it?

When Isaiah finished cursing the door and its uselessness, he had gone to hung up his coat and kick off his shoes with the expectation of hearing you giggle at his muttering, or calling to say hello. Nothing. Not a sound. Suddenly worried, Isaiah looked down to see that your shoes were still at the door. You hadn't gone out. Or, if you had, it had been in your socks. He called out your name, looking around to see if he you had escaped his notice under some heap of blankets, or lying down on the floor like he'd seen you do once or twice. Well, 'seen' was a bit generous to him. He had, in fact, tripped over your reclined body too many times whilst looking for you. As you laughed at him, he always regained his dignity by asking what the fuck you were doing, lying on the floor like that? He'd always help you to your bed, or the sofa, at least. Less chance of him falling over you that way. But, as he carefully stepped over the deserted floor, you were nowhere to be seen. Still treading carefully, he nudged open your bedroom door. 

The slightest bit of light that creeped into the room, just enough for him to see in clearly. The curtains were still drawn shut, not any light coming in but that which escaped over his silhouette blocking the door frame. You were in bed. He would've assumed you'd had a long day and got into bed early, and his late shift could only help that idea. Except, you were in the exact same position when he had left you to go to work this morning. Isaiah could remember it, clear as anything, when he kissed your forehead and gave a tender smile at your half-coherent sleep-glazed goodbye. You hadn't moved all day. Not even for a glass of water- your lips were cracked like a shattered glass. He could feel his blood run cold underneath his skin, the rosary in his fist digging in as he clenched it tighter.

"Baby, are you alright?"

 He wanted to jump into bed besides you and bring you into his arms. But, as cautious as he was of tripping over you on the floor, he only crouched by your side of the bed. With your eyes shut tight, you grasped around the blanket to try and find him. He cut your search short with a gentle hand ghosting over yours. And you held onto him so tightly, he swore you were gonna break his hand. 

You were suffering. You had been for a while, he realised. All those times you struggled getting out of bed recently; the sadness that creeped into your face when you thought he wasn't looking; the way you had opened up your mouth like you were gonna say something so many times, then shook your head as if you'd changed your mind. He hadn't seen it. He hadn't recognised the signs until here you were: burnt out and left to suffer alone all day. If he had known...if only you'd have called him...the hypotheticals clouded his mind, the rosary straining against his ever tightening grip.

"What can I do for you?" 

Anything. He's certain that's exactly what he'd do for you, if you'd ask. But still he waited, holding onto your hand as you opened up your eyes. Bloodstained and framed with crusts of sleep, all you could do was look at his earnest expression with the guilt of making him so grim.

"Water please." You didn't want to look after yourself, in all honesty. You wanted to stay under the covers and continue resting for as long as possible. But you knew you had to. And Isaiah was here, able and willing to go fetch you a glass in order to satiate the dryness in your throat. 

"Of course," he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, gently rubbing away the sleep in your eyes. "Anything else? I can make you a sandwich, or something more?"

He phrased the question hopefully, but your appetite was pessimistic. You shook your head, mustering up a small smile.

"Just water, please."

Isaiah went as quickly as he could, returning back to you with the biggest cup he could find, filled near the brim of cold water. You took it, gratefully, as he helped prop up your pillow so you could comfortably sit up ever so slightly. He sat near the edge as he watched you take a big gulp, the water tasting like the best thing you'd ever drank. Eagerly, you managed the whole thing, raising the empty glass as a victory to Isaiah. He resisted the urge to clap, knowing being patronising wouldn't be requited with amusement as it normally would.

"How are you doing?" He whispered the question into your forehead, sealing it with a chaste kiss.

"Not great," you croaked out. He gave a sombre nod of his head, removing his hand from his rosary to rest over yours. You gave him a weak smile, moving forward to rest your forehead against his. His steady breath and yours was all the sound in the room. You were still breathing, still going, no matter how hard things were getting for you two.

[syven-siren]

On Thin Ice

Summary: Michael, Finn and Isaiah think skating would be the perfect activity for the day. Unfortunately, you don’t know how, but Michael convinced you he’d be the perfect teacher. You should have known given your group’s history of mishaps that it may not have been the best idea to trust them. 

Warnings: mentions of injury // fluff Word Count: ~700

Requested by Anon: “...Can I request something with the younger peaky boys like Finn and Isiah and maybe Michael where they are all at Tommy’s hours with reader and her friends trying to teach them how to skate? And may the reader falls and knocks her head so one of the boys carries her up to Tommy’s house to make sure she’s ok. And then after checking in her they all have hot coco?” A/N: Happy Holidays Everyone! 🎁 Also, I know his name is spelled different but I’m so used to seeing ‘Isaiah’. Apologies if anyone prefers the proper spelling of his name.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” 

Like a fawn new to the world, your first step onto the ice is cautious. The frozen pond beneath your feet crackles in response to the added weight and your muscles and joints lock in terror of some expected catastrophe. To stabilize yourself and your confidence, your fingers dig into the coat sleeve of your closest companion.

“Of course.” Michael’s statement of reassurance does little to quell your rising dread, especially when Finn and Isaiah nearly fall as they collide together. 

“Listen to the farm boy! He knows what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.” 

“See, even Isaiah knows. Have I ever led you wrong, love?”

“There was that time you had us sneak in to see that picture. You said we wouldn’t get caught, but we did.”

Skating past, Finn pipes in his own anecdotal evidence, “There was that time you thought it’d be funny to steal from Polly’s liquor cabinet. And she chased us for three blocks.” 

“Yeah, mate. And what about when you made us be lookouts when you went to see that London girl and her father nearly—”

Michael interrupts Isaiah, not wanting you to back out based on previous history, “Alright. Alright. So maybe I have once or twice, but you can trust me on this!” 

You follow his instruction, taking a few marching steps and then allowing yourself to glide over the ice. Your body adjusts to the slippery surface, and you find it much easier to balance as your posture becomes less rigid. Confident enough with the combination of directions and Michael's support, you finally release him from your grasp and begin to skate on your own.

You circle the pond slowly while the boys rough house and rush by in competition. While you enjoy the spectacle of Isaiah and Michael tumbling to the icy surface in a tangle of limbs, you fail to notice the Shelby boy who creeps up behind you. Finn captures you by the waist and twirls with you on the ice before releasing you and sprinting away as you squeal in fear. He roars in laughter as you give chase. But much like every scenario you seem to find yourself in with your boys, it goes to shit. The blade of your skate slips, and your leg buckles under the unbalanced weight of your body and dashing your hopes for retaliation.

Rather than falling onto your butt, your body pitches forward. The skin of your palms is seared with the sting of the ice’s first touch. Forced into a starfish pose, your head harshly smacks against the ice, and the next few minutes are a blur of pain and frantic questions from the boys. 

“Fucking hell!” Isaiah skids to a stop beside you, aiding you in righting yourself, “You alright, love? Took a real good spill.” 

“Don’t cry. Just please, don’t cry.”

“Finn, I’m not crying but you look like you're 'bout to,” You tease before squeaking in pain as Michael inspects your scalp, “Ow. Ow. Stop touching it!”

It takes them several long minutes of debate for them to conclude that you should not walk back to the house on your own. And it is quite a few more as they argue on who gets to carry you. The journey through the snow consists of the trio distracting you from the pain by telling tales of their comedic failures while on errands for Tommy as Finn carries you on his back.  

Set by the fireplace, you soak up the much needed heat; feeling your fingers and toes thaw. The boys putter about you, inspecting your head again and cleaning the raw red scrapes on your palms. 

“You were wrong,” Your bottom lip pokes out in a pout, and you glare at Michael as he offers you ice to soothe the aching knot that is growing on the side of your head, “Again.”

“Okay. Okay. No more skating for a while. How about I make it up to you, hmm?”

“How?”

“There’s some cocoa in the kitchen.”  

“I could forgive you but…”

Finn presses for you to continue, “But?”

“I want extra marshmallows.”

Feedback, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! 

Peaky Blinders Masterlist Coming Soon!

[smcc212]

Fearless

Word count- 1, 077

Pairing- Tommy Shelby x Son!, Finn Shelby x nephew!, Isiah Jesus x Male OC(platonic)

Warnings- None really? Referenced bullying, and my awful writing.

A/N- We’re all just gonna big fat ignore the fact the I haven’t posted in 238 days, okay? Okay. Great.

Thank you to @fandoms410 for requesting this, I’m so, so, so sorry it took this long xxxxx

Tommy always worried about Liam, he couldn’t help it. Having a son that couldn’t feel pain, and was bullied as a result of that, well, who wouldn’t worry? After the incident with John kids, and the kids from Liam’s school, however, that fear only grew worse.

He felt himself just wanted to bundle Liam up in bubble-wrap and bring him everywhere with him. He was even nervous about letting Liam go out to play with Finn. Although, he knew he couldn’t keep Lee locked away forever.

He watched from his office window as Lee waddled after Finn towards Jeremiah Jesus’ house. A very excitable Isiah quickly hugging his dad before joining the Shelby boys. Liam rushes to hug Isiah, and the older boy didn’t hesitate to hug him back before picking him up and heading off towards the cut.

Tommy sighed, sitting down at his desk and attempting to get on with his work. He trusted Finn, and Isiah for that matter, with Liam; It was the other lads he didn’t trust. He just hoped, prayed that they kept a close enough eye on his little boy.

Finn watched as Isiah pretend to be much slower than he really was, letting Liam catch him as they were playing tig. He fought to keep in a laugh as Isiah dramatically acted shocked that Liam caught him.

“How are you so fast, Lee?” He pretended to wonder as Liam broke out in a fit of giggles.

“You’re just really slow, iz,” he laughed. Isiah gasped in mock offence.

“You little monster,” He said before launching into an attack of tickles. “How dare you.” Finn stopped holding in his laugh at that and instead joined Isiah’s attack.

“Stop,” Lee stammered in between laughs.

“Not until you admit that I’m a fast runner.”

“B-but you’re not.” Isiah gasped again, continuing to tickle to boy. After a couple of minutes Lee caved in. “F-fine! You’re a fast runner,” He exclaimed.

“Thank you,” Isiah said stepping away, Finn did the same. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” He beamed at the boy. Liam moved his hand to rub at the tears of laughter that had formed on his face, trying not to press down too hard.

After that the boys went to Charlie Strong’s yard to see the horses. Isiah making sure to hold Lee’s hand as he had a tendency to run in the stables excited and spook the horses. Isiah remembered clear as day the ice-cold fear he felt when he saw the horse buck, he only just managed to grab Liam before the horse cracked his skull open.

“Hello, boys,” Charlie greeted.

“Hi, Charlie. We were wondering if we could see the horses?” Finn asked politely. Upon seeing the hesitation on Charlie’s face Isiah spoke up.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got Lee. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.” Charlie nodded.

“Alright, but only for a little bit, Curly and I have to clean the stables soon.”

“Thank you, uncle Charlie!” Liam exclaimed, pulling on Isiah’s hand.

“Hold on, Lee,” Isiah started, crouching down to the boy’s level to make sure he had his attention. “I need you to promise to be calm around the horses, okay? I know you love them, but you don’t want to scare them, yeah? And I don’t want you to get hurt. So, promise me, yeah?”

“Okay, I promise, iz.”

“Okay. Good.” He stood up again, keeping a hold of Liam’s hand. “Let’s go then.”

Tommy had tried, and failed at getting his work done. His mind to preoccupied by his anxiety over Liam’s safety to be able to focus on the business. Liam was the only thing that could keep Tommy from working.

He decided to go see Charlie and see if he’d seen Liam. He knew his boy loved horses, so that was the most likely bet.

“Morning, Charlie,” He greeted in his usual emotionless voice.

“Morning, Tom. Finn, Isiah, and Liam are in the stables if you’re looking for them.” Tommy nodded, heading to find his boy; he needed to calm his disquiet. He stopped at the door, seeing Isiah holding Liam on his hip.

“Slowly, Lee. You don’t want to scare her, do you?” He heard Isiah say quietly. Liam shook his head softly, and cautiously lifted his hand up towards the mare. It sniffed softly at the boy’s hand. Liam let out a little giggle, making the corner of Tommy’s mouth curl slightly.

“Tickles,” He whispered to Isiah.

“Yeah, they do that,” Isiah chuckled back. Finn was just standing in the corner watching the other two boys, much like Tom was doing. He and Tommy locked eyes, sent each other a small smile and a nod-silently agreeing to not interrupt.

The mare tilted his head down slightly, giving permission for Liam to pet her. Lee turned to Isiah, his blue eyes full of awe and a silent question.

“Yeah, go on, Lee,” Isiah encouraged, cause Liam to smile and gently run his hand along the mare’s head.

“I’m doing it, iz,” He whisper-yelled excitedly.

“I know,” Isiah replied in a breathy laugh. “I’m proud of you.” If it was possibly, Liam’s smile got even wider. Tommy felt like someone was pulling on his heartstrings. His beautiful boy seemed so thrilled to do something as simple as pet a horse, he wondered if Isiah being there with him made the little boy more excitable.

Suddenly, the bubble was burst as Charlie walked in, followed by curly.

“Right boys, sorry but times up.” Isiah pulled Liam away, placing him back on the ground and taking ahold of his hand. When he turned around a saw tommy, a look of pure shock covered the boys face.

“Hello, Mr Shelby,” He said. Tommy smiled at him.

“Hello, Isiah.”

“Lee, wanted to pet the horse,” He explained nervously.

“I know, Isiah, I saw. I was just checking on on him, but I can see he’s in good hands.”

“Iz,” Lee said, pulling on the older boy’s hand.

“Yeah?”

“Can we play hide and seek? Me, you, and Finn?” Lee looked at Isiah with pure awe, as if the boy was a prophet.

“Yeah, of course we can. Coming Finn?”

“Yep. See you later, Tom.” Finn chirped, following his best friend and nephew.

“See you, boys.” Tommy watched them walk away for a moment, before heading back to work. The worry he once held gone after witnessing the love Isiah seemed to have for his boy.

Taglist:

@the-makingsofgreatness

[warnersister]

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

[thepeakygurl]

Requested Scenario

A/N: A bit longer than I expected, so I decided to leave it in a cliffhanger. If someone wants a part two, please let me know. I hope you like it @haphazardhufflepuff and sorry for the delay✨✨

Love and Betrayal

Finn Shelby x Sister!Reader | Isaiah Jesus x Sister!ShelbyReader

Prompt: Y/N is Finn’s twin. Her and Isaiah are in a relationship and you are now pregnant, but Finn is not aware of the relationship between you two, so when he finds out things get a bit physical.

Warnings: Mention of violence and foul language.

Being in love was something that you didn’t entirely desire, this was until your eyes met Isaiah’s. You always knew each other, growing up together you ended up seeing him as one of the Shelby, someone close to a brother. However, one day when the two of you were left alone at the house, you finally saw him. He was no more the guy you used to chase and pull a fight with. He was a man, that was looking at you like no one ever did before. His dark eyes looking at yours, clear blue, as they were the best piece of art he had ever seen and that was the moment you craved for love. Isaiah did too, he craved to receive and to give the same burning feeling he had inside of him and he knew right away that, what was torturing him so much and turning him insane, couldn’t be anything else but love.

A young reckless first love that started in the middle of a Tuesday evening, turned into the best thing in your life. A love that had to be kept a secret in order for it to survive. Feeling Isaiah imperceptibly touching your hand while standing next to you, with the room filled with other people, more importantly the Shelby family, could turned your stomach upside down. The first kiss he gave you, he was so scared to be doing the wrong thing that he barely touched you, but that changed very quickly. After a first taste, Isaiah couldn’t stop but thinking about those lips of yours. The constant fear of being caught just helped the passion grow between you two. The sneaking around was exciting for you, hiding something from your family made you feel finally a grown woman. You didn’t feel like you were betraying them all, but Finn... The guilt of hiding something so important from him, to be in love with his best friend, that was a big shame for you.

But you would’ve gone through with it all over again, because you could never give up on Isaiah, you both went two far, there was not turning back. So you decided to finally tell the truth, all the truth. When Finn came home he was surprised to find you there, lately you’ve been sneaking around a lot and he noticed, he knew you were up to no good, but he also knee that if you were doing anything that would have serious repercussions you would tell him. And perhaps, you did, because when he looked at you he immediately knew something was wrong. “You look like a ghost y/n.” He said while sitting next to you, slowly reaching out to your hand and hold it softly.

You laughed, looking at your hand in his and smiled “There’s something I wanted to tell you for a while now.” you said, your voice shaking made him hold your hand a bit tighter as if he was telling you that you were safe, that you could talk to him.

“I knew you were up to no good lately.” he said and shook is head but smiled “It’s me and you, you can tell me everything you know.”

And you nodded, if you were going to tell something to anyone it would have been Finn, he wasn’t just your twin brother, your bond was beyond blood, you shared one soul “I’m always up to no good, it’s part of being a Shelby.” You joked “I.. I met someone, someone I’m really fond of and that really, really cares about me” you said looking at him and despite your fear of being judged, he was still smiling.

“That’s good eh” he said, really happy to know that you at least were able to find someone for yourself “Who’s the loser then? It’s better if I do the talk.” He said referring to their older brothers that were not exactly well mannered when it came to this kind of issue. And here you froze, you were the one now trying to hold his hand and that made him raise an eyebrow, you looked at him, scared and looking for comfort, but he didn’t know how to give it to you since he didn’t know just yet what was the problem “Y/n, who is it?” He asked again this time his voice was not calm.

“Promise me you will try to understand” you begged.

“Stop pissing me off, who the fuck is it?” He quickly replied and he stood up, ready for anything that could have come out of your mouth.

“Finn, promise it”

“I’m not promising shit. Who the fuck is it?” Again, this time he raised his voice “You are going to tell me now or you are going to tell Arthur and Thomas” he said as a threat, which is this case was really a big threat.

“Isaiah.” You whispered, such a small and imperceptible whisper that you barely heard yourself “Isaiah.” You said again, but this time you heard yourself and so did he.

He stood her looking at you. His cheeks now deep red where telling you that he was trying to contain himself. “You are joking eh?” He said, you could tell by his eyes that he felt betrayed and he did. Finn felt sick as soon you said his name. His best friend, the guy he trusted the most was now your lover? “Please tell me you are fucking joking and that you didn’t fuck my best friend”

“It’s not about the sex you idiot.” you said and stood up now “How dare you? Do you really think so low of me?”

“I do not! I think low of him! The man is garbage! Do you know what we do when we go to London?” Finn he screamed at you, making you question if he was indeed the best person you could have gone to seek help.

“We love each other” you proceed saying. You knew about London, you knew what kind of life Isaiah did before you, after all you were friends before anything else.

“What the fuck do you know about love?”

“Well, what the fuck do you know about us” And that come back made him more frustrated than ever. He took a deep breath and quickly put on his jacket. “Where are you going?” You asked, but received no response from him, he instead proceeded and got out of the house so you followed him “Finn wait, let’s talk about this”

“Apparently we can’t because you are in love and all that darned crap” he said pulling your hand off his arm that was trying to take him back in the house “Let’s see what you prince charming has to say about this”. Finn heart was aching. Both his friend and his sister made a fool out of him.

All the way to the pub you tried to convince Finn to go back, that you didn’t want him and Isaiah to fight, but he wasn’t listening. If anything all this talk of yours made him angrier. When arrived at the pub his eyes went straight looking for Isaiah and when he saw him drinking and laughing with some coworkers, he rushed to him and he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt “Easy man” Isaiah said, almost laughing at him. He was tipsy and honestly amused by all the rage that Finn was throwing at him, so out of his character. However when he saw you, quickly rushing towards the too of them he fell all the alcohol he had drank leaving his body and he soon after realise what was happening “Finn, I can expla-“ but Finn didn’t let him finish as he punched him straight in the face making him fall on the ground.

You gasped, you have never seen Finn like that, so angry and impulsive and that made you feel so sad. So sad that you made him like this.

“You fucked my sister?!” He screamed at him, on the ground Isaiah was trying to clean the blood coming out of his nose and again Finn didn’t give him time to speak and he kicked him on the stomach, making him moan out of pain.

“Finn it’s enough!” You yelled at him, incapable of making a move towards him to stop him. Looking at Isaiah bleeding and aching broke your heart, slowly some tears started to run on your cheeks.

“Fuck Finn...” Isaiah moaned out, trying to stand up and he succeeded “I fucking love her, it’s not just sex” he dared to say, he looked over to you trying to smile to let you know that it was okay. He was not going to fight him back, he knew that he messed up and that forgiveness was too soon to seek.

But those words, those big words Isaiah said made Finn took out his gun and pointing it to Isaiah’s head “Dont you dare say those words” he said, now his voice was trembling a bit “How fucking dare you? After all we did for you and your family?” But they both now Finn rage didn’t have anything to do with what the Shelby did for Isaiah, for Finn it was his best friends going behind his back.

“I’m pregnant” you yelled, unnecessary are the pub was now in a deep silence and only Finn and Isaiah’s voices were raised.

Finn almost let the gun fell out his hand and Isaiah, he almost fell himself. Now, that was going to be another big talk to have.

[kaetastic]

LINGERING EYES

pairing: Isaiah Jesus x Shelby!Reader

summary: The Peaky Blinders spend their night at a ball, however, Isaiah notices the wandering eyes of other men on the second youngest Shelby.

word count: 3.5k 

warning: slightly nsfw ?? jealousy, mention of blood, mention of violence, language

note: I loved writing this one! The flow was so smooth and I couldn’t stop writing, so here it is! I was hit with inspiration after checkin’ out some prompts (i saw them on pinterest so i don’t know who’s the original blog, if it’s you please dm me 🥺)

“Take my coat.” 

White— pearly beads of opal tears were poked through with a piercing needle. The bawling drops of clams drooped from the yellow ceiling, hanging low as gravity clung onto the strands. While shuffling of polished shoes screeched into the air, ear-drumming squeals from yanked corks paced to overlap obnoxious laughs. The laughs worthed grands; the laugh of slithering serpents.

Despite the approaching night, there was no heaviness resting upon the awaken eyes, which only led to the fact that they have tolerated and befriended the aspect of long nights. Long nights of claimed hard work. Long nights of staying at work late to complete the pending task, allegedly. Bitterly, the woman who strayed near the marble bar assumed, even though she knew she was right.

The lavish dress she wore that she plucked out of the most expensive rack in the store were no different than those women who were present. The women who had been dragged out from the comfort of their home to flutter a smile while they drowned in their husband’s gold, not knowing their mistress circled nearby. However, her privilege of wearing the fabric that was enough to feed a whole village was not the same as them. While it might not be her money, she knew that Thomas’s money was now as legitimate as the rest, despite the fluttering rumours weaving from mouth to ears.

Y/N grew up on streets that reeked of feculent piss and mud as face-paint. They, on the other hand, were nurtured by a maid, money already swimming in their bloodstreams while their parents spent days on end overseas.

‘You’re not a Peaky, Y/N.’ As the tornado in her champagne flute swirled, she glared at the red wine with irritated eyes. Despite her hating the proper way of holding the glass which was as posh as it could be, she reminded herself to where she was and who breathed in the same room as her. Recalling the talk she sat with her older sister who believed that the woman shouldn’t even bother to relieve her presence to the party, Y/N beamed her eyes at the smearing grey against the whites of the marble counter. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the destiny the Shelby’s will be cursed by, but heartfelt conversations were rare. The woman needed to get it out of her chest. She needed to tell her older sister the lingering eyes when she would walk down the streets. The elderly knew of the tainted reputation of the Shelby’s name, the main theme of the conversations whispered behind their backs. ‘No, but I’m a Shelby.’

That’s what she’ll always be. Just a Shelby. Not the woman who struggled through the obstacles of maintaining a deaf ear to her colleagues who would whisper under their breaths about her and her background. No matter what curtain draped over her, she’ll be seen as the younger sister of a gangster. Gypsy Shelby. Carnival wanderers. Y/N, the woman who sipped on wine in the dress of the same colour, will forever be known as Birmingham’s Infamous Gangster’s Little Sister.

Y/N was no longer the giggling child who swam through mud; she was no longer the girl with dangling tooths who hid her older brothers’ socks under her bed. Even Arthur, the eldest, has admitted how times have changed. Sitting on the stool was a woman, not a girl. A woman with cold, crystal eyes of a smeared cerulean blue that can only be glistened at a certain angle of light, a woman who had been prize hung upon the fair’s walls for men who were up to the challenge- that was until they heard of her last name. Unless they were cowards, they tiptoed away with the utmost silent steps. It was barely a handful of men who found the challenge of swooning the woman to be entertaining.

However, to be in radar with the Peaky Blinders themselves; to be in their loyal, trusted ranks, Isaiah Jesus just couldn’t find a fuck to give. There had been countless times he had seen eyes grazing over her figure, ogling her as if a taunting piece of meat. Would he be different to their scandalous actions? No, because he would do the same. The man just had a more discreet manner of observation. People with a name and money to flaunt might’ve shoved him to the edge since deep down, he knew that he’ll never be like them. But, at the end of the day, who was deep in her while she breathlessly screamed out?

“What?” Once her eyes peeled away from the intense rolling of liquid in her champagne flute, she shot a perplexed glance at the iconic oversized coat he would constantly wear. It seemed the memo to wear different had not reached the man. Her orbs glimpsed back to his face as if he had gone mental. The room had a barely noticeable breeze of wind that only kissed those who strayed next to the golden, colossal windows. 

“I said take my coat.” Isaiah repeated, arm extending, urging the woman to take it. 

There was no jest in his eyes. Isaiah wasn’t playing around, “It’s fucking hot in here.” There weren’t any trails of sweat visible on the woman, but there were beads of them crawling down her back. It seeped down through the minuscule crack of space between the velvet dress and her glossy back. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the same case for those who did not handle well with heat as some elderly men incessantly wiped their foreheads with their lavish cloth.

“Just fucking take it.” Isaiah didn’t mean to take another glance, but he did. Accidentally. The group of vigilant observing eyes did not quiver from the pair, well, it was mostly attached to the woman who was sipping on the red wine. However, the closeness of Isaiah and the Shelby had brought alarming thoughts in their heads. There wasn’t a plan so it wjasn’t part of it, it was more of an impulsive act of decision when one of them shot up from the seat.

In the corner of Isaiah’s eyes was a blur of an approaching figure, increasing in size. The pace was casual, gait relaxed with his hands tucked in the pocket of his waistcoat. A haze of shimmering gold sparkled, the intensity of the blaring reflection multiplied by a tenfold.

“I’m gonna suffocate, I can’t breathe already.” Y/N scoffed, mouth finding solace in the half-drunk wine.

With every step, Isaiah’s eyes wavered back onto the woman. A fire burnt in his chest, no, it roared behind his eyes as fury dumped a barrel of petrol into the growing rage. Doubts settled in. Was it truly rage? Or was he scooting around the idea of jealousy? Before his head caught a glimpse of his peripheral, his hands were already chained around Y/N’s wrist. A satisfied smirk crept up on his lips when the figure halted in his steps. Watching the woman he was about to approach thrash in the man’s grip, he gawked.

“Isaiah!” Although eyes were darted towards the catastrophic scene, Isaiah didn’t bat an eye, head too blurry with satisfaction. Y/N with ajar opened mouth was yanked away from her barely finished wine. It tasted rich. A privilege she had been surrounded with only recently. “What the fuck was that?”

Once he managed to drag her into a hallway of stacked barrels, he finally noticed the dripping beads of tears from the leaking metal pipe. As teardrops descended from the sobbing pipe, it puddled on the miniature lake. The hallway felt exposed to the frosty night of London. A breeze of the chilly air overflowed through the cracked open hopper windows.

Not too long ago Y/N was clamouring with the pungent odour, now, she was sure the secretion had become icicles, frozen. Isaiah wasn’t so different, his shoulders remained in the stance of shock. After yanking her hand out of his grasp, the dishevelled woman beamed at the man. His flared nose was tinted red. While he pressed his lips shut, the echoing noise of the bawling pipe trickled in to fill in the pregnant silence.

An exasperated sigh fell off his lips, “They were fucking you with their eyes.” Blinking in disbelief, she let out a scoff. The reason he had dragged her was because people were looking at her? Well, fucking her with their eyes?

“So what? And who the fuck are you to bother?” Isaiah’s jaw ticked. How was he to answer? The man himself didn’t know how to reply. Thoughts resounded off his head, springing from one side to the other as he tried his best to think of an answer. There was fire roaring in his chest. A flicker of blue plastered across the dancing red canvas. It burned hotter than a summer’s day, flaring scorches of heat than heatwaves when one would stray around the furnace who had been chugged by boulders of dusty coal. But actions speak louder than words. As his eyes flickered to meet hers, the flame on the candle died with a blow of air.

Isaiah was fired up, chest taut, fingers clenched, ready to hurl it in their faces’. It all vanished. The anger, the fire, the stirred up hurricane, it all wiped off from existence. Her hair that was once a coiled perfection which was a result of an hour of refining each and every lock, had become a wild, untamed bunch. It was no different to that of her hairstyle she would wear in the creaking morning after an exhausting night of moans and groans. The pearl necklace that draped down her neck sat on her shoulder, clumping up a rubble even though it hung above her cleavage a few minutes ago.

Frigid bites of the brick wall pierced into her skin. The bleeding words that rested on her tongue were exhaled into a familiar warm mouth. Long forgotten, the coat he could’ve used for defence to crawl out of the fancy ball to protect him from the chilly night, puddled into the ground. A groan grumbled out of his lips to puff into her moaning ones; although, Isaiah wasn’t sure if it was because his coat would be the absorbing cloth, soon to be drenched by the unknown liquid from the pipe, or it was because her wide open legs had curled around his hip. 

There were no words exchanged, only wanton moans and guttural groans. The world around them faded into black and white before it all was swirled in a hazy blur. The tiles of the mosaic painting were soon plucked out. The world didn’t exist, just each other. There weren’t any irregular singing notes of the pipe, no blowing of wind into the cracked orifices and no boisterous thrumming of heart in their ears. It was just each other's breathing and their fingers rustling faint noises of caress. 

An exhalation rolled out of her chest to gush out into the tensed air. Air that was once struck with chords of anger and jealousy, but now, it was trickling with need and lust. Knocking the back of her head into the wall, the gaps between her fingers were spurting of his curly locks. The piercing cones smeared over the brick walls embedded into her skin. If his mouth wasn’t planting bruises on her skin, it would’ve hurt a lot more. 

“Saiah... fuck, no hickeys...” Stuttering between heavy breathing which was from the nipping of his teeth on her skin below her ears, Y/N finally managed to breathe out the words. Although it had been an unspoken rule which was brought up only once (the first time they fucked), Isaiah couldn’t give a fuck. To have the Shelby’s as a boss, Isaiah had somewhat familiarized himself with the gears spinning in their heads while he watched them work on the field. Not Thomas Shelby, never Thomas Shelby. The man was impossible to see through, just like the murky canals of Birmingham. If his siblings had not succeeded in reading his mind, what miracle did he possess if he could do so? 

So it was no wonder the pair had not taken the risk of overlooked details such as markings on their necks to be seen. There was one thing Y/N could do when having scandalous ties with her brother’s employee, and that was to be one step ahead of any of them. Preferably Thomas Shelby. It was the least she could do. Nights when Isaiah would climb through her windows, she would complain about the aching in her stomach beforehand. Although, that plan nearly blew up on her face as Polly had incessantly banged on her door to check up on her paining niece. Oh, how they all would’ve lost their shit if they knew Isaiah was deep in her, thrusting his hips with lust before her aunt lingered outside her door. 

Y/N always pondered to how everyone would react to their relationship. Relationship? There never was an appropriate time where the two sat down to discuss the fire sparking between them. Even though she had tried to bring it up at points, it always led her to a moaning mess. The pair had scooted around the topic, ignoring its existence. But for how long? The stunt Isaiah had pulled back not too long ago was of pure jealousy, the feeling of someone else eyeing something of his. It was not something he had felt before, ever.  

Pulling his lips away, his eyes grazed over the masterpiece he had painted. Streaks of red trailed across the side of her neck in peculiar directions. While Isaiah admired his prominent markings, Y/N noted the curled up corners of his lips and his gazing eyes on the scene. Oh, she was too late. Worried if her brothers were to see Isaiah’s branding, formulas were scribbled in her head. All she had to do was avoid everyone, Finn and Arthur especially if she didn’t want a wildfire to burn. Finn who was still a babe had curious eyes and quick fluttering lips, Arthur on the other hand just had an agile tongue and a rock as a fist. If one of them was to even peek a glance at the hickey, the news would’ve crossed the other side of England. Ada was easy to avoid as the woman was not present at the party; however, Y/N could not imagine her never-ending rambling. Knowing her older sister, she was sure it would lead to pregnancy and stubborn questions about the mysterious guys.

The trio of Thomas, John and Polly was one to keep in mind. Y/N herself wasn’t sure why she had grouped the three together, but she knew they had one thing in common. Merciless. She wasn’t sure how it would proceed if one of them was to gaze upon the marking; she never wanted to see it happen. While the woman who had a painted canvas on her neck was concerned with future issues to which she hoped she would never have to stumble upon, Isaiah was a smirking mess. The thought of them seeing the art he had created flicked a lighter to his gun powder. Once his eyes grazed over her shut ones and her lips pecking of silent mumbling, he let out a sigh. The woman was overthinking again. The noise of her saliva smacking on her swollen lips only made sense to her head as she went over the whole plan. Avoid, avoid and avoid. Isaiah’s eyes brushed upon her smeared lipstick, he wouldn’t be surprised if some made way on his lips. 

Her train of words halted once a warm thumb grazed over her bottom lip. Although scribblings of words jotted in her head, nothing made sense as Isaiah’s lips were on hers once again. The layers of planning and never-ending what-ifs vanished, wiped from her head to be buried deep underneath the bedding of soil. Back splayed against the wall and legs around his hip, Isaiah’s fingers trailed down to clutch on her thighs, nudging the stubborn hem of her dress up, coiling it in a bunch. Tongues caressing one another while strings of wanton moaning brushed down the bristles of their throats, everything was long forgotten. There was no Thomas Shelby. There was no Peaky Blinders. Just the two of them.

“What the actual fuck.” With the familiar straining voice echoing through the narrow hallway, the feeling of need vaporized. Heat that was once beaming through their chest seeped into the air, dancing in the wind. The glass bottle in his hands shattered. Piercing shards of glass embedded into his skin, slashing through his blood vessels, but he could see nothing but red. Snapping the neck of the bottle into millions of fragments, Arthur no longer cared the good chug of whiskey he wanted to have away from all the lying cunts. Tonight was full of people who had dollar signs in their eyes while they grasped onto leashes around those who needed to pay back stacks of cash. More than fucking enough. If Arthur heard any of their voice, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So, when Arthur decided to pull away from the crowd to enjoy even the crappiest stench of whatever the fuck liquified the soil that smeared along the bricks, he did not expect to see a Peaky boy’s tongue down his little’s sister throat. Even though the eldest Shelby wasn’t in many conversations (there was no need to ponder that all they wanted was Thomas’s cock), he barely noticed the disappearance of the second youngest Shelby, most likely because he was too focused on maintaining the position of his curled fists which were stuffed deep in his coat’s pocket. Despite him yanking out his red, thrumming hand multiple of times, a glare from Thomas was enough to remind him of the lingering eyes.

Feet descending down the wall, Y/N’s eyes didn’t blink once as she stared at the abrupt appearance of her eldest brother. Well, fuck. Fuck the plan. Fuck avoiding. Because the future she didn’t want ever was now, “Arthur.”

Without a word uttered between the two, a distance increased with every shove down their throats. Arthur Shelby was here. Arthur Shelby saw the son of the man he trusted pinned his little sister to the wall. Eyes were lassoed, ropes were thrown around, yanking stammering thoughts. Arthur’s eyes that were popped out of his eye socket did not quiver from Isaiah’s figure. The smear of red against the boy’s lips and his dishevelled waistcoat was enough for Arthur to go mental. Isaiah wasn’t sure how he felt. There was a jolt of inhumane voltage zapping through his heart before a snip of a scissor prevented it to ever be alive again. 

The man whose face oozed of litres of blood was a victim of whatever lurked under Arthur Shelby’s skin. If Isaiah wasn’t there to notice his motionless body, he couldn’t give a fuck, but he was. He saw men struggle to hold Arthur’s thrashing body back. The devil they called it. The plunging noise descending his throat and into the green lake in his gut trickled through Isaiah’s ears. He was dead meat, “Arthur, it’s not what it looks like- I can explain.” 

“Fucking not what it looks like?” Although the eldest Shelby stood at the other end of the hallway, his booming voice was as if he was right in front of them. Wavering the cracked neck of the whiskey glass, furious spit gushed out of his lips. Hair curtained to flare up, the man was beaming with steam. “Fucking explain why you looked like you were about to fuck Isaiah!” 

Speckled soil shivered from its land to rest upon the ground. The ground the building sat upon shook, shaking the glass panes to send raining shards of glass across the marble floor. Thomas stepped down the stairs. Seconds ago, the man was under the ceiling of solid gold, now, he was under dripping tainted water that pecked his shoulders. His face was unreadable although a twitch of his jaw gave away the underlying anger, “One fucking day, Arthur, you couldn’t give me one fucking day of silence?” 

Trailing behind him was John and Finn who were laughing at an obnoxious joke uttered by the youngest himself, something about his boxers ending up on the street. It fell into silence. Despite the warning Thomas had incessantly, stubbornly pressed on his accompanies of the night, a part of him had already predicted this was to happen. There was hope. There was hope that the night might’ve flown pass smoothly without a bump over the road. And then there was reality. Awry reality never resembled the plans in Thomas’s head. However, there was a second he had missed in his life. A second was forgotten, jumped over to the next beat of his heart. He didn’t need many words from the blood gushing out of Arthur’s curled fist and the mussed hair of the pair.

Well, there goes the plan. Out the fucking window it was. With a cigarette sighing on his lips, he gestured, “Go ahead. Talk.”

Maybe Y/N should’ve listened to Ada.

[blinder-secrets]

#44 & #45 - Isaiah

‘Quit looking at me, you’re making me feel nervous.’ & ‘Those things you said yesterday... Did you mean them?’

prompt list

The door to the bookies isn’t locked, thankfully, so you let yourself in before you can change your mind. Before your nerves get the better of you and glue your heels to the pavement outside. There’s no point in putting this off, it will only sit to sour in your stomach. One night with it on your mind was already too much. 

Isaiah isn’t hard to find once you’re in. He’s at his desk, tucked into the back corner of the room by vault. It isn’t the nicest spot but at least he finally has one, the Shelbys have been passing him between offices for long enough. 

‘You off the clock?’ you ask, your voice catching his attention. He looks up with an easy smile and gestures you forward with his free hand.

‘Almost. Sorry, just finishing.’

You nod and pull up a chair from another desk. ‘I don’t mind waiting.’ In fact, you do, but only because the longer you wait the less ready you feel to face him, and the looming reason behind your visit.

He dips his head down again, pen scratching against the paper as he works. You don’t entirely know what it is he does for them; it’s a mixture of things, of course, but office-jobbed-Isaiah is the role you understand least. What he’s writing on that page you can’t even hazard a guess at. 

‘I could’ve met you at the pub,’ he says.

And normally he would’ve. But this isn’t a conversation you could have in The Garrison. Not with all the noise and the company, and definitely not with the added qualities of alcohol. Whiskey is what got you here in the first place.

His eyes flick up, having noticed your quiet. It’s not like you to have nothing to say. ‘What’s up with you?’ he asks.

You shrug.

‘Quit looking at me, yeah, you’re making me nervous.’ 

The sharpness in his tongue almost makes you hesitate, but you’ve committed to it already. You want to know for sure and it really does feel like now or never. ‘I was just wondering,’ you start carefully, ‘Those things you said last night...’

He laughs once, then leans back into his seat, his pen abandoned on the desk. ‘I was drunk.’

‘Did you mean them?’ You say it quickly, before he can brush it off any further, and hold his gaze as steadily as you can. 

‘Ah, don’t ask me that,’ he says, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. ‘You know what I’m like.’

He’s right, you do. You know that he’s terrible at lying, and that he hates owning up to things, even if the both of you know what he’s done. You know he’s doing it now; the smile he’s wearing is a fake one, put there to try and convince you he’s relaxed, comfortable, when in reality he’s looking for an escape route.

‘Yeah,’ you agree, ‘but you’ve never said anything like that. When we we’re walking home-’

He interrupts by clearing his throat. ‘I remember.’

It isn’t enough to stop your rhythm, though. ‘You said that sometimes you think you-’

‘Alright,’ he cuts you off again, ‘I know what I said.’ He isn’t looking at you now, instead watching his fingers fiddle with the handle of the closest drawer. ‘Don’t embarrass me, like.’ 

‘I’m not trying to.’ 

‘I dunno what you want me to say,’ he continues, voice low like a sulking child. 

It takes every ounce of restraint not to laugh at him. Even he isn’t excused from the stupidity of men. ‘I’m not asking much, Isaiah. You can’t say something like that and expect me to forget about it.’

‘Why not?’

This time your eyes roll before you can catch them. ‘Because I’m a person,’ you say, ‘with feelings, and a heart, and, y’know what? Forget it.’

The chair scrapes harshly against the floor as you stand, the sudden action catching his attention again. ‘Ay? C’mon, don’t.’ He tuts, titling his head slightly. ‘You know I’m shit at this.’

‘I don’t even know what this is, Isaiah. You can’t even humour me with the conversation.’

‘Just sit down, alright?’ he bargains. ‘I’ll answer properly this time.’

You consider it. It’s unlikely that he’ll offer again and he seems like he means it, even with that shit-scared look in his eyes. It’s not often that he’s willing to open up - especially when sober - so you sit and pull your bag onto your lap, this time waiting for him to start talking. 

Sighing, he rubs his face with his palms before leaning onto the desk, elbows creasing the papers scattered atop it. ‘I do think it,’ he says after a long pause. ‘Alright, yeah, I do.’

‘Think what?’ You’re being petty. For once it feels good.

He clenches his jaw slightly, but plays the game. ‘That I love you.’

That’s the second time he’s said it now and even without the liquor it feels impossible. It’s so much starker, hearing it between just two of you in a quiet room, that it throws you off. When you recover enough to speak again the heat still lingers in your cheeks. 

‘But, what about the other thing?’ you ask, more nervous than you’d expected. 

‘Ay?’ He’s frowning. He thought the hard part was over. ‘What other thing?’

‘After you said that, you said that you could never be with me.’ You hoped you’d hidden the bite in your throat well enough, the hurt behind the sentence, but from the way his face softens you can tell you didn’t.

‘Jesus,’ he says under his breath. ‘That’s what’s got you all upset?’

You stare at him. Yes, obviously yes. How else were you supposed to respond? Last night he’d gone from admitting to feeling like he loves you, to shutting you down without any explanation. Hopes born and crushed in one drunken ramble. 

‘I said that,’ he continues, knowing better than to stop, ‘because it scares me, right. The thought of havin’ you, then losing you cause of what I do.’

The answer stills your frustration - no, it bursts it entirely; you feel it slink away from you to hide in the back-room. Of all the things you had considered as an explanation to his statement, him caring too much about you had never come up. You almost feel guilty for it. 

‘I know what it’s like.’ He sighs. ‘Once we... If they think... Ah, fuck, I don’t know.’ His eyes screw shut. ‘It hurts my ‘ead to think about it.’ 

You find yourself nodding, too taken aback by his honesty to give a valuable answer. You understood now, at least more than before, and the worry was quickly being replaced by thrill. The rush that, oh, he does feel that way about you, and that, oh, the only thing stopping him from acting upon it was his-

‘Wait, why are you smiling?’ he asks, genuine confusion littered in his voice.

‘Because you love me,’ you answer. 

‘I think I do,’ he corrects. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Means the same to me.’

‘God.’ He shakes his head and leans back again, but this time his shoulders slouch slightly, his lips teasing a smirk. ‘What have I done?’ He’s so close to laughing, so close to dropping that edge of worry from his demeanour that you feel yourself relax. 

‘I’m never gonna shake you now, am I?’ he says.

You smile. ‘No, not until you really want to.’ 

[thousandfourhundreddays]

Can you write a modern Michael smut ?

IT’S TIME.

Michael Gray x Reader

A/n I LOOOVE writing anything modern so I love this request. Hope you enjoy!!

You’d first met Michael on a night out in Manchester. A drunken night out. A very drunken night out.

You’d never believed in love at first sight but from that night on, you couldn’t help but succumb to the idea.

You caught his eye the moment you walked in, the light filtering in, framing you perfectly, reflecting off your dewy skin, illuminating your ocean tinted eyes. The world stilled around him as he fell in love.

Now, a year and a half later, you were still together. Things were perfect, somehow still in the honeymoon phase and there was a part of you which though that it’d never fade.

However, one thing you hated was the distance. Michael in Birmingham and you down in London. The mear 130 miles between you felt like millions as you lay in bed at night. You understood that work was a priority. If you ever wanted to be able to build the future that the two of you had discussed so many times, the two of you had to be patient. The beautiful house, expensive cars, holidays, falling asleep in each other’s arms every single night, waking up to the boy you loved with your whole heart was so close, only just a little further until your could grasp it.

But for now, you were lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling, wishing that the cold space beside you was taken up by him.

Rolling over with a frustrated huff, reaching for your phone which you had lazily strewn on your bedside table, the blue light flooding the darkness, revealing the time. Through squinted eyes, you strained to focus on the numbers. 01:14am.

Carelessly you threw your phone down beside you, the sheets rustling as you soothingly rubbed your eyes.

A yawn escaped your lips as your eyes flicked between your phone and the darkness. You lay there for a few minutes, the cogs of your mind whirring behind your eyes.

“Fuck it” you whispered to yourself, abruptly sitting up, grabbing you phone and opening your contacts, scrolling down about half way, finding Michaels name and calling him before you could talk yourself out of it.

Raising it to your ear, you knees tucked up against your chest, biting your lip impatiently as you heard the pained sounds of the dial...

“Y/n? What’s up? You ok?” A string of questions fell from his lips, worry woven through his croaky voice, most likey from sleep.

“Michael” you spoke through a content sigh, collapsing back down onto the bed at the sound of his voice

“Y/n what’s wrong?” His voice a little desperate

“Nothing, no nothings wrong, sorry” you giggled

You were met with silence, Michael now totally lost as to why you were calling so late, not that he was complaining. Your voice was just as much of a comfort to him as his was to you.

“Come see me.” You stated bluntly. Your fingers crossed as they rested by your side.

“Y/n, babe, I can’t-... well I don’t... hang on” you could hear his smile radiate through his voice as he nearerd the end of his sentence.

Searching through his mental calendar, he silently begged for tomorrow to contain nothing but paperwork and accounting.

His lips curled up into an even bigger grin as he remembered that tomorrow was in fact Saturday, a catch up day for him and the boys in the office. Deciding that the paperwork can wait, he finally put you out of your misery...

“Ok” you now both lay there in bed, contentidley beaming to yourselves.

“Really?” Slightly shocked at his spontaneity, but then again, maybe you were the spontaneous one, knowing full well he could never say no to you.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m on my way, love” you heard him rustling around, stumbling out of bed and haistily packing a bag.

“Thank you” you said excitedly

“The pleasures all mine, darlin. I won’t be long” he giggled

“I love you”

“Love you, try and get some sleep though, yeah? It’s late”

“Ok, ok”

“Bye” you spoke in unison, your soft voices blending in the still night air. Relaxing into the matteres as you heard the line cut off.

Too much excitement flowed through your body for sleep to ever arrive, not helped by the constant checking of your phone, wishing for the time to tick by quicker. It was the longest two hours of your life but here you were, stumbling out of bed after hearing a gentle knock at the door.

You silently ran towards the door, feet absentmindedly carrying you over the cold wood floor, standing on your tip toes to peak through the peep hole in your door. Your body wrapped in one of Michaels shirts pressed up against the cool wood.

Gently swinging the door open, you took in the sight of him, the boy you loved standing at your door at three o’clock in the morning, a smile gracing his face, lighting up the room as you mirrored him.

All but throwing yourself at him, he took you in his arms, holding you tighter than he ever had before. Muttering small I love you’s into your ear.

“Iv missed you”

He simply smiled, taking your face in his hands, kissing you gently. Moving his hands to your waist to steady you, he guided you backwards into your appartment. Dropping his bag by the door he pulled back,

“Iv missed you too” a cheeky smirk plastered on his face

Moving your hand to the nape of his neck, you pulled him in once again, deepening the kiss, humming with pleasure.

It was now your turn to lead him away, pulling him towards your bedroom, you kicked the door shut as you went.

“You didn’t just bring me all this way for a shag did you?” He asked playfully

Biting your lip, your words were muffled by his lips “Maybe I did, are you complaining?”

“Not at all” speaking through kisses he was placing down your neck.

You giggled as he made his way back up to your lips, his tongue slipping between your soft lips as he placed his hand on the small of your back, lowering you down onto the bed.

Resting your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer, his callous hands brushing the thin skin of your thighs. A soft moan filling the air as he traced small circles on the inside of your leg.

Holding you by the waist, he kissed your skin through the delicate material that lay between you making his way down to your core. Voicing a accepting groan as he appreciated your choice of underwear, he placed a small kiss over the black lace thong that you wore, he pulled them off you painfully slowly, doscarding them on your bedroom floor.

You chuckled at the sight before being cut off by a moan that slipped up your throat as Michael plunged his tongue into your wetness, spreading your juices over your lips.

“So fucking wet” he murmured, entranced by the taste of you.

You started to beg as he dipped his tongue into your core once again, craving for a release. “Ok baby, ok” he spoke, his lips vibrating against your wetness as he dipped a finger into you.

“Mi- Michael!”

“What’d you want baby, tell me what you want” his voice was deep and seductive.

“More” you begged. “I want more” now breathless you reached down, in twining your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips deeper between your legs. The sight alone was enough to bring you close to the edge

Your vision blurred as he sped up, adding another finger. His tonge flicking against your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves, teasing you, bringing you to the edge.

“I’m close” you whined “I’m close” you repeated breathlessly.

“Let go for me y/n, cum for me” he purred, bringing you to your peak, his fingers carrying you through your orgasm as your legs began to shake as he sucked gently on your clit. Your head resting on the pillow, your lips hanging wide as you came on his fingers.

Licking up your cum, he continued to stroke your core as he made his way back to you, kissing you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

Removing his fingers from between your legs, he licked them clean before placing one in your mouth, “that’s my girl” he whispered, kissing your lips softly once you were done.

Moving his lips down to your neck, he sucked slowly, leaving small purple bruises on your tanned skin. His fingers making quick work of the buttons on your shirt, leaving it to hang open, he took in the sight, eyes wide, licking his lips as you followed his lead, pulling off his hoodie and moving down to his joggers. Carelessley throwing them to one side, you began to pull at his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck, silently telling him how badly you wanted him.

Taking the hint, he slowly lowered himself back down to you, biting your lip, drawing a sensual moan from you as he pulled off his boxers. Once again, using your legs to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

He took himself in his hand, pumping down once or twice before lining himself up with your entrance.

“Please, please baby, I need you” you purred into his mouth. And with your beg, he pushed into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust, both of you revelling in the pleasure of him streatching you. After a few seconds, a slight nod from you encouraged him to draw his hips back before pushing into your again. Swallowing each other’s moans between kisses, a slight sheen of sweat began to glimmour over your bodies.

Setting a pace, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, nibbling into your ear lobe as he went.

“So good, so good, so fucking tight.” He chanted, entranced by the feeling on you clamping down on his cock.

The lewd sound of your wetness echoed through the walls of your apartment, fusing with your filthy moans as you left scratches down his back, a reminder of the pleasure he fed you.

You were both reaching your peak, his thrusts becoming clumsy as he twitched wildly inside of you.

“Michael, I’m gonna cum, I’m close baby, I’m close” your sentence broken up by your irregular breathing.

“Let go, go on” he moved, his hand down to your clit, your body becoming overstimulated as he pushes you over the edge, tears forming in your eyes.

You vision once again become blurry as he fucked you through your orgasm, releasing himself deep inside of you with a low groan.

Both of you basked in your post orgasm haze, regaining your breath as you kissed his damp skin, drownin in each other’s moans. Slowly, he lowered himself to lie next to you, taking you in his arms, holding you close.

“Fuck, I love you” he spoke, releasing a deep breath.

“I love you” placing a light peck to his chest “so much”

Placing his hand on your cheek bringing your eyes up to face him, he naturally brushed your skin with his thumb.

“Its time y/n” and with those simple words, everything fell into place.

A/n ok so this was loooooong, but I hope you enjoyd!!🖤

MASTELIST

TagList

@obsessedunicorn24

@namelesslosers

[bonniesgoldengirl]

Anyone be interested in a Isaiah x Reader one shot where they have a bath together? Cuz I really want to do that with him

[warnersister]

How the peaky boys react when dating a girl with a praise kink (nsfw) -> headcannon

Goes without saying, nsfw warning

Find the request here, sorry it took so long

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had you figured out before you’d figured yourself out.

🪖He knew what was going on in your head before your did.

🪖You were working late one Friday at the Garrison, of course many working men joyously engaging in Friday night drinking and drunkenness while their wives whittled wistfully back home.

🪖You weren’t expecting the Blinders tonight, but of course you’d always find room for the Peaky boys in this establishment, regardless if you were chocker with customers that the bar didn’t really have the capacity for. The door chimed and you spun, peering to see if you had the numbers to accommodate the x amount of customers you had walking through your door.

🪖”Evening boys, meeting or drinks?” You ask, readying yourself to go clean the business Roman that was wordlessly their property. “Just drinks tonight, love” Tommy answered with a small smile and you nod, placing your hands on your hips; balled into fists while you ponder around to find their empty table.

🪖You notice a table of rowdy youngsters occupying the usual Shelby spot and you narrow your eyes at them, internally questioning if you had the inner morals to boot paying customers out of their seats.

🪖”Be a good girl and get us a booth please, sweetheart” Tommy asks, well instructs, as he lights up another cigarette.

🪖He noticed the way your eyes darkened at his request and your lips parted slightly. You nodded. “Of course Tommy, give me a moment lads” you say, heading to the young gentleman to ask them to either head to the open seats at the bar or get gone.

🪖"hiya lads, sorry to bother.” You say as you approach the lot who look at you in question “but I’m afraid we need this booth, happy to serve you up at the bar or I’m sure another will open soon” you wince, apologetically. One scoffs. “Why should we? We’re paying customers?” He asks, beginning to instigate somewhat of an issue, when Tommy swoops in “I believe she asked you nicely” he grunts, and it was almost awe-strucking watching how fast the boys scampered out the door with mediocre apologies.

🪖Thomas wanted to test his small hypothesis again, placing a gentle hand on your lower back “such a good lass to your old Tom, aren’t you?” He hums and he watches as your jaw slackens and you swallow on your own saliva, beginning to stumble around a response. “My pleasure, Tom”

🪖And then a few months later, when he’d taken you out a couple of times you were more widely known as Tommy’s girl than you were your own name.

🪖It was again a Friday evening, usual crowd shuffling to their places and so were the boys.

🪖“evening boys” you smile, handing an older man his shandy as he makes his way back to his missus who was still sipping on her gin.

🪖“evening sweetheart” Tommy smiles, leaning across the bar to peck your lips as the rest of the boys head to their normal spot.

🪖business as usual

🪖you begin pouring their beers automatically, following Tommy to the table with umpteen pints and of course an apple juice for John, whom you’d cut off from alcohol.

🪖“good girl” Tommy applauds as you hand them their drinks, quiet enough that the rest of his rough crowd didn’t hear but loud enough for you to become unsteady on your feet.

🪖you didn’t know when you’d agreed to go home with Tommy. You don’t even remember locking the door to the Garrison. But now he had you buried deep beneath him as he rutted into you and there was nothing you really cared about more right now. If there was a problem you can deal with it when you were finished.

🪖he was trying to coax it out of you. Trying to coax out the fact that you revelled in it when he praised you. And it got him off to see that when other blokes such as Harry called you a ‘good lass’ for a decent shift, you didn’t bat an eyelid.

🪖“Come on love, got one more in you haven’t you?” You shook your head at his question, almost hoping that he’d let you rest after your third. “C’mon sweetheart, don’t you want to be a good girl for your Tommy?” He asks and you nod up at him through dazed eyes. “Hmm?” He asks, holding your jaw still with one hand while the other held him up above you. “Please. Please Tommy. Wanna be good for you” you mumble out, and he smirks - rutting into you at yet again, another relentless pace.

🪖”that’s it. Such a good girl f’me. So so good” he praises as your moans progressively get louder as you mewl beneath him.

🪖and eventually, when you’d both calmed down, he looked at you and smirked “good girl aren’t you?”

🪖”shut up Tom.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Eats that shit up, no crumbs, licks the plate clean.

🧸already kind of babies you, he doesn’t mean too. You’re a few years his younger and as your husband he sees it as his job to protect and provide for you while doting and taking care of you like any good man should.

🧸then one night he comes home a bit late from the bakery, readying to apologise when he’d noticed you’d just finished cooking dinner. “Well here I was all soppy and ready to apologise to you, yeah. And no, my good little girls just gone and made dinner!” He says, almost chuffed. You giggle and plate up the food, sitting across from him as he begins to eat.

🧸”what ‘y doing over there, then?” He scoffs “c’mere.” He instructs as you move to sit in his lap and he relishes in the meal you’d prepared “you’re so good to your old man, aren’t you?” He hums “so so good” he exclaims, only trying to show his appreciation but he noticed your pupils dilate at his words. He brushes it off, nothing major.

🧸later in the evening his sciatica was playing up so you wordlessly left the room to go draw him a bath with some new salts you’d bought from your elderly neighbour whom your husband refused to speak to on account of her being ‘a witch’ as he said.

🧸”oh you are a good’un aren’t you, poppet?” He hums, as he enters the room, allowing you to help him undress and get into the bath, afterwards preparing to make your leave and get him some medicine from the cupboard downstairs.

🧸”and where do you think you’re going?“ he questions, and you raise a brow “to get you some medicine” “I need no such thing. Now get in here w’me.” He grunts and you do as he says, never one to turn down a good relaxing soak in the bath with your husband.

🧸”there you are, good girl aren’t you? Always listening to your old man. What did I do to deserve you. So perfect” he rambled, and doesn’t notice the ever hazing glint in your eye and when he finally looks down at you he narrows his eyes and finally realised what that look was.

🧸his praises got you going.

🧸”tell y’what would make y’old man feel so much better,” he hums and you cock your head ready to help his pain ease “if you be a good girl f’me and give us a distraction” he suggests and you see the smirk unveiling under his beard, as he reaches for your thigh to pull you over his lap and to settle atop of him. “Seeing as you asked so nicely” you mumbled into his shoulder, as you began to rock against him.

🧸”there you go, there’s a good girl” he says as you come undone on top of him and collapse onto his chest, stroking your back gently with one hand and holding you close with the other. “Y’want to move, poppet he asks?” And you shake your head, eyes closed as you recover.

🧸 as soon as his sciatica pain eases up, he was going to abuse that little trick as often as he could.

Arthur🍺

🍺poor baby needs just as much praise as you do. Thinks he’s a shitty partner

🍺but god when he found out it was like finding the fucking Magna Carta.

🍺it was his ticket out of everything. Came home drunk? “I’m so sorry, you’re so good for putting up with me” In a fight? “you’re such a good wife for patching me up” literally anything you’re not agreeing on? “Oh my good girl”

🍺he’d found out when you were already buried beneath his, mewling as he took out his frustrations on you rather than the man he was originally destined to kill that day.

🍺”y’better feel good about y’self.” He grunts “man’s life was saved cause of you, you and this fucking insatiability.” He thrusts and you groan “please” you number “hmm? Feel good? Little saint you are, fuckin’ angel. Stopped me killin’ a man. Wanna get me into heaven do y’angel? Huh? That’s where you’re sending me?” He asks and you groan louder.

🍺”yeah, cause you’re such a good girl aren’t you?” And that’s when you let out the most gluteal pornographic moan that almost stopped his movements, instead it pushes the throttle and sends the both of you over the edge.

🍺”god Id’ve spared hundreds of men if it meant I got to hear that from you”

John🥃

🥃The Shelby family were enjoying an afternoon at the Garrison. Given, it was incredibly backed with gang members and people dissimilar; still the atmosphere was was light and full of laughter.

🥃you’d volunteered for the Saturday shift seeing as Harry needed extra help nowadays seeing as the customer numbers were ever growing.

🥃John was flirting with you, as ever. While you just rolled your eyes at his antics and offered him another drink.

🥃”blimey, I need to drop drinkin’ the hard stuff. I’m seeing an angel!” John feigned surprise, as he took his cap off his head to greet you, plopping it onto your own as he leaned in to kiss your cheek sweetly. “And I’m seeing a man who’s had one too many. I’m cutting you off” you warn, wagging a finger at him. “Well I do like a lady who takes care of her man” he smirks, but was cut off by a voice that altered the atmosphere in the bar.

🥃”I am looking for Thomas Shelby” the voice announced, and you felt uneasy; John’s face darkened as he clearly recognised the man who was a stranger to yourself. You look to the rest of his family who have a similar stature to him on their faces.

🥃”get behind the bar flower” John mumbles to you calmly, “that’s a good girl. Stay down there, sweetheart” he coos as you duck your head out of sight and into the small crawl space under the kegs.

🥃As the conversation continued, John looks over the counter to you discreetly. And your large doe eyes look back, and he could see the trust in them. He leans his hip against the oak bar edge, holding his hand over and motions for you to give him your own. You thread your hand with his, and he strokes the back of your knuckled gently; giving it a squeeze as Harry instructs them to take this out of his pub.

🥃John gives you one last reassuring squeeze of the hand before grabbing an empty beer bottle and heading out the door with his brothers. A few minutes, a couple of shouts and a gun shot the three walked back in as if nothing had happened.

🥃John leans over the bar “y’alright now, good lass” he says as you peer back up and get back up from your seat on the bar. He rests his arms against the wood and grins at you. “Let y’old John reward you f’ being such a good girl, hm?” He raises a brow and honestly expects nothing from his advance.

🥃you look at the clock on the wall and decide Harry could fend for himself for a while. You look at John and wet your lips, leaning down and grabbing his collar to bring him closer to you. “Meet me in the back”

🥃He jumped over the bar.

Bonnie🥊

🥊revels in it without really meaning too.

🥊also uses it to his advantage. He doesn’t mean it, honest.

🥊you were knelt in front of him, sitting back to rest on your ankles as you wrapped his hands for his fight. “You’re so good t’me, thank you angel” he thanks, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

🥊he knew what he was doing to you. Trying to get in your head.

🥊since he’d fallen hard and fast he’d decided that you were it for him. You were his and he was yours and nothing else. Especially when you agreed to live out his gypsy fantasies with him and give up the traditional home you were so accustomed too.

🥊and he was convinced you’d make the best mum.

🥊so this little praise obsession of yours was the perfect way to sway you onto his wavelength.

🥊”you’re gonna be great tonight, Bon” you say, smiling at him comfortingly. “M nervous” he mumbles and you shake your head, holding his hands in yours “it’s gonna be fine, just go out there and do your best. I’ll always be proud of you.” You say and he seems to settle slightly. “Y’d be such a good mother, darling” he tells you, moving some loose hair out of your face and behind your ear.

🥊he notices a slight blush on your cheeks, and decides to pry. “BONNIE; TIME!” His dad shouts through the door and you tap his leg, standing up to give him his good luck kiss. Instead, he slowly walks you back until your back hits the wall, two wrapped hands caging you.

🥊 “hmm, would’y like tha’? A mammy?” He asks and you stare up at him with dazed yet wide eyes. “Oh you’d be such a good mammy. So caring, so sweet. Y’so good t’me imagine how good y’d be to a young’un.” He hums, resting one hand on your waist. “So, so good” he bumps his nose with yours. “Then I’d marry y’a.” He continues “be a good wife too. The best. Such a good girl” he coos and you audibly whine and he smiles.

🥊”y’d like that? Gonna let me make y’a mammy?” He hums, ghosting his lips over yours “BONNIE!” His dad reiterates and Bonnie huffs. “Y’can do whatever Y’want to do to me, bon” you reply hazily and he smiles as you lean up to kiss him deeply, pulling away to lean your forehead on his, hands cradling his face. “After your fight.” You nod and he raises his brows “promise?” You smile back “promise.”

🥊fastest knockout he’d ever done.

Isaiah♟️

♟️uses it against you. Purposefully

♟️defo teases you for it

♟️you’d be at the garrison, having gone accompanying your twin brother Finn and expecting to see your boyfriend there eventually when you weren’t in your usual spot at home.

♟️he’d turned up around half and hour after you had, only looking to get a drink defo not looking for you.

♟️he sees you at the bar, yet by your side was some bloke he didn’t recognise. Some six foot slime ball with his hair slicked back so far it looked like it created a permanent surprised upkeep on his eyebrows. His suit was brand new, Isaiah assumed the tag was still tucked into a pocket somewhere for him to return and scrounge in the morning.

♟️and why were you talking back?

♟️you were drinking something dark, presumably the alcohol Isaiah preferred for you not to have.

♟️had he bought it you?

♟️Isaiah stormed his way over, fully prepared to lay out the man talking to you and throw you over his shoulder and lead you straight out of the pub; but the conversation you were having with the boy stopped you.

♟️”what d’y say love, wanna get out of here?” He asked “and for the fifth time. No. My husband will be here any minute. He’s a blinder y’know?” You scoff “well he ain’t here now, is he?” He asked you when Isaiah sweeper in and pressed his gun to the man’s temple “isn’t he?” He asked, cocking it as the man before you swallowed and visibly began to sweat.

♟️”I suggest you take yourself out of this pub, out of Birmingham and fucking away from my woman.” He grunts, and the man immediately scampers. Then Isaiah looks to you, and the relief decorating your face is immediately apparent.

♟️”oh Isaiah I’m so sorry I tried to get rid of him-” you begin and then your boy begins to smile “your husband?” He asked, raising a brow cockily and you begin to rock back onto your heels “just wanted to get rid of him” you mumble, and he wraps hands around your waist and settles them on the small of your back.

♟️”you’re so good to me, aren’t you doll?” He asks, smirk growing “rejecting other men f’me?” He hums and you nod “y’know good girls get rewarded, don’t you?”

♟️or when you’re not behaving as he’d want you too.

♟️”where d’y think you’re going?“ he asks as you open the door.

♟️”Ada invited me for drinks” “y’not going, not safe. Not w’them Italians crawling round” he instructs, expecting you to shrug off your coat and come join him in the lounge. He turns but hears the door click shut. And when he’d looked, you were gone.

♟️he was fucking fuming, livid, murderous.

♟️and when you’d shown back home at 2 in the morning, hiccuping, he was already stood at the door with his arms crossed.

♟️you smiled “hi Isaiah” you giggled, but he didn’t say anything as he walked you backwards and your back hit the wall. “In what fucking world does a woman not listen to her man?” He asked and you were immediately silenced. “Hmm?” He asks “why did you think you could just go out without me, you know how dangerous it is” he says “well-” “good girls don’t disobey their men, d’they princess” and he noticed how you cowered and sunk into your shell.

♟️he threw you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs, rutting into you in the bedroom more times than you could count telling you how disappointed in you he was and every time you were close to release, he’d stop and tell you why you didn’t deserve it.

♟️he loved torturing you.

Michael🎱

🎱so belittling with it.

🎱loves to use it against you whenever he can because it always means that he wins

🎱the first time he’d sussed this little predicament of yours out was when you were entertaining him while his brother dealt business with your father deep within the Cotswolds.

🎱you’d served him tea and polite conversation, talking about your purity and how much he idolised you.

🎱”and you’ve no husband?” He asked and he placed his cup on his saucer you and you straightened your posture before responding “no, no husband” you confirm and he is forced to stifle his smirk “well you’d make the perfect wife” he tells you and he notices how you swallow harshly “well that comes appreciated, mister gray” you reply and he narrows his eyes.

🎱and then when you were married and doting on him, he’d always remind you of how he impacted you.

🎱he knew just how to get to you. “Dear, go be a good girl and fix me a drink” and you’d do so. “I’ve got to go to London for the week. Be a good lass and don’t leave the house” and you wouldn’t.

🎱and sometimes he’d take you to family meetings. Personally believing that the women shouldn’t really be at these meetings. But a quick slap to the head from his mother soon sorted him out.

🎱and then he walked in on John shamelessly flirting with you, and he knew full well you weren’t meaningfully engaging with his cousin, it’s what you were taught to do from a young age. But still, you were engaging.

🎱”flirting with my woman, John?” Michael grunted, entering the room to which the former rolled his eyes “just showing her what a real man could give her” he winked at you before swaggering out of the room. “Why did you entertain him?” “I didn’t-” “thought you’d promised to be a good girl for me tonight?” And that shut you right up. The desire to be praised overpowering all.

🎱 “how ‘bout you make it up to me tonight, sweetheart?”

Finn🎞️

🎞️for his whole life, Finn has always been overshadowed by his older brothers. So being able to have so much control over you was so addictively intoxicating that he just loved to abuse his power.

🎞️and he’s at that age in his early twenties when his hormones are heightened and all he wants to do is act like a rabbit in a hutch during mating season.

🎞️and sometimes you weren’t up for it.

🎞️not until he figured you out.

🎞️he’d had you going for three rounds. Overwhelmed from how his brothers had been belittling him all day during business meetings and finally finding a vector to take it out on.

🎞️you’d come undone beneath him, very exhausted from the relentlessness of his actions, when he blurted out “fuck you’re so good at this” as he released inside of you. You mewled and whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Again” you mumbled and he raised his brows “you sure?” He asked and you opened his eyes as he recognised how your irises had deepened two shades and smiled giddily “well alright then”

🎞️so whenever he needed something or someone to release his frustrations on all he had to do was stroke your cheek and call you “my good girl” and you were pretty much tearing his clothes off.

🎞️and even sometimes when he’s upset he uses it to tell you just how much he appreciates you. When times are particularly hard and when he just can’t cope with situations; he’d let you hold and cradle him and rock him back and forth while silent tears sunk down his face “you’re so good to me” he’d mumble over and over again in a sleepy voice until he’d fallen asleep in your arms and you’d manoeuvred him into a comfortable position as his arms tightened around you.

Aberama🌞

🌞oh god this man is insatiable.

🌞defo calls you his ‘good girl’ and doesn’t give a fuck who hears it.

🌞likes to shelter you from everything in this horrible world, thinks it’s his job to protect and shadow you from anything. You were just a dainty young thing with no clue, someone had to step up and he decided he was the man for the job.

🌞just loved to take good care of you so those for eyes stayed innocent and undamaged. Bare and pure unlike his that were darkened and locked with such an intricately pessimistic past

🌞one day Thomas Shelby decided to pay a visit to the camp and Aberama had beckoned you over and you did as you were told, he motioned for you to lean closer as you approached him. “Need you to stay out of the way for a while sweetheart, can you do that for me, is that alright? Just until he goes?” He asks with sweet eyes. You smile and nod at him “good girl, off you go” and you were off into the woods to pick some berries for a recipe you had an idea for.

🌞eventually he’d come looking for you, find you deep into a bush trying to reach a berry that you’d just had to have but couldn’t quite get too. He’d stayed back for a while, leant against a tree while he admired you. Until he’d felt the masculine desire to aid his lady. Coming behind you and placing his hands on your waist as he leant to grab the berry for you. You’d gasped but turned to see him, smiling brightly at him. “Thank you” “anything for you” he replied, pecking your lips gently.

🌞”always willing to help my special girl” he says “can always count on you can’t I?” And the grin turns into a gaping expression, wide and heavy eyes looking at him and he’d decided he had to have you right then and there.

🌞he’d hiked the skirt of your dress up to your waist and told you how much he appreciated you as you screwed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

🌞then he’d carried your worn out, sleeping figure bridal-style back to camp with your basket selection of berries resting in his arm as he looked down at you lovingly.

[missmarrypotter]

Tommy ain’t always right, You know!?

Finn Shelby x OC (Olive)❤️

I'm just so in love with this boy, Finn is an angel!!

WARNING: making out!? but more fluff i think

English it not my first language so please excuse my mistakes.🤗

She grabbed her Jacked and rushed out of the office. The look she shot Thomas Shelby before stepping outside was full of disappointment and blankness. She didn’t wait for any respond.  “You need to be a man … bullshit he does ..” she mumbled to herself, running through the hidden, dark and smoke filled alleys of Birmingham. It was much colder than she thought, the fresh air of the night burning in her lungs from running.

“Finn!!!”, She almost shouted at her Childhood Friend who was about to disappear behind yet another corner.

“Finn fuckin Shelby!! Wait.”

He stopped right there, turning around. He Looked tired. But when he recognized her he put on a smile, waiting for her to reach him.

“Olive, what’s with ya!?”, he was quiet amused seeing her breathless like that. “Why did ya run!?”

“Cause those legs ya got there are like twice as long as mine ..” she explained gasping, pulling him into a hug.

He hugged her back, stroking her dark brown hair carefully.

“Did anythin happen? Ya alright?!” He asked, tensed and sounding slightly worried. He relaxed when she shook her head, sighting in relief. She interrupted the hug and took a step back.

“ I was in the room as well when ...ya know.. that talk with Tommy and stuff   ” she told him, looking right into his blueish green eyes, waiting for his reaction.

He looked down at his feet, his jaw clenched. He looked kind of ashamed and guilty at the same time.

Silence. Just for Seconds but it felt like hours. Finn fumbled around with his hands while Olive nibbled on her chin long hair.

“I liked what ya said back there” She cleared the silence, scratching the back of her head.

He looked at her with lots of confusion in his eyes.

“ Wha .. are ya shitting me!?” He asked, not really believing what he just heard.

He thought Olive would react completely different. He thought she would scold him for losing his virginity to some whore Lizzie, Aunt Polly and Linda rented for him. She grew up in a brothel herself since she was 6 years old. Madam Adley found her that age and adopted her into her family. Schooled her. Fed her. Sarah Adley had no children on her own so her Ladies were her family. Her daughters. She treated them all very well. Her business was for the high society only. For rich Men and Women to forget and enjoy themselves. Olive herself had worked there for a year when she turned 16.

To secure her loved ones safety Madam collaborated with the Peaky Blinders. They kept violent lovers away and made sure everybody paid and in return the girls gave some informations about their clients or their Bodys to the Blinders.

Through that Finn and Olive met at the very young age of 7. They soon bonded and the Shelbys became the girls second family. She proved herself trustworthy very quick and her big green eyes, her open, loving nature as a child and later her charming smile and her feminine curves were often very helpful to interact with new allies or enemies. She had a very sharp mouth if she had to and never lost her words. But she could also be as quiet and nondescript as a mouse so no one would notice her like today in the office. They even allowed her to stay through family meetings since no private conversation she witnessed had ever met a third ones ear. They loved her and she loved them. Apparently some more and in a different way than others. Tommy decided to employ her as a gift for her 17th birthday. She was good with customers and numbers and that way they were able to look after her. Win Win Situation for everyone. Finn secretly was very happy about that. So his Olive didn't had to do these humiliating things anymore. He never thought he would ever in his life have sex against payment himself because the thought of someone buying his girls body made him sick so many times. Buying a person like some object just sounded so wrong to him even if it seemed to be normal for his brothers. He always imagined his first time a completely different way. With someone he loved. Someone who wanted him. To be honest he always thought it would be with her. But he was too shy to make a move. He always thought he wasn’t good enough for her. Not manly enough. Not experienced enough.

If only he knew she wished the same thing.

But since she had to help her Mother out back then to safe her Business, she felt dirty. She was happy to help, she always was. On the other hand she didn't feel good enough for the boy she took a liking in anymore. So she never made a move as well. But now she had to say something. She had to tell him how much of a man he was to her. Has always been.

Out of the sudden she smiled. She just happily smiled at him, giving him chills.

“I don't want it like that ever again, tom.

Not when they don't even want to do it , expect for the money.” She repeated his words from earlier, taking his hands.

“It made me so fucking happy when you said that.” She whispered squeezing his hands, taking a step forward.

A perplexed Finn gently placed his chin on the top of her head.

“ But Tommy was right when he said that everyone gets tired. That everything these days is for money. That i need to be a man” he muttered into her hair, placing a little kiss there without even realizing it.

“But you are a man, Finn”

She loved the shelby boys a lot. But She honestly never would have wanted to trade with any of their woman. She wanted someone she could rely on. Someone she didn't have to fear about not coming home because he picked unnecessary fights that started people and himself getting killed . Someone who didn't yell all the time. Someone who wouldn't keep secrets from her. Someone who would never look at another woman the way he looked at her. Someone who would never cheat. Someone like Finn.

She got up on her tiptoes, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, hugging him as tight as she could. He placed his hands on her back, pressing her body against his.

“Tommy was right that there is an empty space to be filled now that John is dead. And yes everybody gets tired someday.But that does not mean you have to become like them. There is nothing wrong with not fighting everything, anytime, at any cost. There is nothing wrong with wanting love instead of a quick fuck. Because so do i .. ”

Her last words were almost too quiet to hear them, but he did. She gently kissed his cheek  before she let him out of her squeeze, taking his hands once again. He Was speechless. Did he hear it right!? Did she mean that she wanted him or just true love in general!?

His breathing was too slow to see any movement on his chest but his heart did the exact opposite. It was about to explode.

“And even though it might sound crazy …. Tommy ain’t always right, You know!?. Not everything is for money. True love ain’t . He should know that better than anyone.. god that sounds like such a cliche” she laughed, letting go of his hands. But as soon as she did so his right hand was right back around her wrist, pulling her closer while he placed his other one on her cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb.

“Good. Cause i don't have any fuckin money .. but i luv ya so much”, he whispered into her ear. His voice was raspy and slightly shaking from nervousness and the freezing aerial. Both of their hearts stopped right there, both holding their breaths.

He laid his forehead against hers, brushing her nose with his, their lips almost touching.

As he managed to respire again his hot breath brushed over her ice cold lips. Now there were Goosebumps all over her body. She wanted to say something. She wanted to say those words back but her vocal cords wouldn’t allow it. Instead her hands just grabbed his soft cheeks, closing the small gap between their lips. Out of the sudden her whole body seemed to warm up. By the touch of his soft lips. By his hand clawing into the hair of the back of her head in response while his other hand found its way to her hip, holding into her tight. Their Lips seemed to perfectly match up. Their movements slow but impassioned. Finn Tasted like whisky and cigarettes while Olive tasted more like plums and black tea. It was a perfect combination. Soon things heated up. Finn had her pinned against the wall of some house, his hands on her bum to hold her up. Her thighs were wrapped around his waist, the right hand gently tugging his hair while her left one softly scratched his neck. The desire they both kept a secret for a quiet long time finally turned into something real.

Finns tongue slid over her bottom lip, before allowing them a break to take a breath. Both were heavily panting when they heard a suggestive whistle.

It was Isaiah. Standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning from one ear to the other.

“Well if the two of ya are done swallowing each other we could head to the Garrisons like we planned, aye!?” he teasingly said.

“Ough i totally forgot…” finn said, setting Olive down. Both of them fixed their hair and cloth as much as possible before walking over to their friend. Isaiah laid his arms around his mates still grinning widely.

“Finally guys, finally!” He laughed.

Finn and Olive shot each other a approving look.

“Well we know ya going to tell everyone about this Issy, so please make sure to tell Pol, Linda and Liz as well so they don't feel the need to rent my boyfriend a whore ever again, yep!?”

“I totally will sweetheart, everything for my love birds” he assured.

At the Garrisons everyone congratulated them like they've just announced their wedding or something. They were really sweet and supportive. Tommy, Arthur and Polly each gave them a speech about the birds and the bees and how they would support them if Finn would get her pregnant anytime soon but that they'd prefer if there was no need to. It was really weird but fun at the same time. When the Garrisons cleared up Tommy offered to drive the two young ones home. They gratefully refused. A walk home, just the two of them would be perfect now. They said goodbye to everyone, leaving hand in hand. Finn walked her home to Madam Adley's house, never letting go of her hand. As they arrived he walked her to the door. He leaned against the frame of the big wooden door, letting go of her hand. She turned to face him. She had the happiest expression he had ever seen on her.

“I love you too , Finn.”

He softly smiled, pecking her nose.

“I know. But you saying it …. Feels damn awesome, Luv” he chuckled. She jokingly rolled her eyes at him, fumbling around with his jacked.

“I'd love to have company while sleeping tonight, Finn” she mumbled, slightly smirking.

He slightly blushed, brushing some hair behind her right ear.

“ Sure can do, Babygirl” he just smirked and kissed his girl lovingly. Then he picking her up, carrying her inside.

Things went a little different than actually planned. Madam and some of the girls were still awake and insisted that instead of doing god knows what they should join them for some drinks. They did. So everything that happened tonight was one of Olives sisters vomiting, Sarah Adley offering Finn to come by anytime as long as he treated her daughter well and 6 bottles of wine being destroyed. After that both of them just fell into bed, immediately falling asleep in each others arms. In the morning both of them just stayed in there, trying to sleep their massive hangover away. Honestly it was kind of a good start in their relationship. Things would happen sooner or later so why rush in. The important thing was that their relationship was  clarified and official now and everyone supported them. The future would settle the rest.

[kaetastic]

TROUBLE

pairing: Isaiah Jesus x Shelby!Reader

summary: The infamous trio of Isaiah Jesus, Michael Gray and the second youngest Shelby pay a visit to a bar, except, few unhappy passer-bys ruined the day.

word count: 2.6k

warning: mentions of blood, violence, 1920 racism, slightly nsfw at the end, invisble indirect mentions of sex

note: the racism in this story is used for writing purpose only. i do not advocate such acts. thank you for understanding.

Easiness twirled a ribbon in the air. A silk, delicate cloth of pounds and dim like the backdrop of the stars. The recent sinking of the sun had painted the sky a blur of black once the flashing orange blended in smoothly. Caressing exasperatedly against the canvas, the brush sitting in the painters’ grip danced over the abyss of colours. The moon tugged on the strings beneath the water body as if a puppet, causing crest to migrate, hurling waves; clashing into one another in a milling crowd. With an arm draped over her shoulder which felt nonexistent, Y/N let out an echoing cackle in the bustling night that was kept alive by overworked factory workers. Lips curling up at his success, Isaiah wore his signature charming smirk.

Dangling between Michael’s nimble fingers was a huffing cigarette whose strands of smoke had been engulfed by the exhaling wind. Since the pair had been pacing at their own pace which was way too slow for the man, Michael sauntered past, leaving them alone while he neared the bar they had desired to spend time at.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Isaiah’s warm lips brushed over Y/N’s ear-shells before yanking his head away, keeping a non-gossiping distance (despite his arm around her). Even though her infamous older brothers had been at London for a vital business meeting, it would take a pathetic fool to dare lie their lives on the quivering string. Even if they were hundreds of kilometres away, prodding eyes might linger to only whisper of the scandal sight of a Peaky Blinder and a Shelby.

The grip around his wrist faltered, her fingers unfurled to stuff her chilling hands in the warm pockets of her coat. The piercing edges of her nails hooked onto bulging looped strings, a tugging war between the article of clothing and her fingers. Isaiah’s eyes did not waver from her, still in shock as to what just happened. A giggle fell off her lips at his gawking eyes. The string of smoke she had just stolen from his cig breezed in the air, flying off to dance in the cloud.

“That’s why I do it.” Glancing down at her teeth chomping down on her bottom lip, Isaiah’s tongue poked to run over his lips. Despite his attempt to smear moisture, the chilly night was not merciful.

With a few more strides and transferred giggles, the pair neared towards the Gray who stood in front of the bar. From the inside, golden rays smeared onto the window panes of the French door. The hazy object obstructed passerby to glance a peek, only offering a puppet show of moving limbs over the light rays. Michael tapped his polished shoes onto the drenched valleys that seeped through the rivers between the stone-bricked roads, impatient to how slow the pair was, “You fuckers done fucking each other’s ears?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at her cousin. Michael had recently been not so easy to tolerate. With Gray blood swimming in his veins, it wasn’t simple to tug anything out of his head or whatever secret that lied deep in his chained up heart. A trait his mother had definitely passed down. However, Y/N believed the reason to his horrible mood for the week was caused by a woman they had come across not too long ago at the exact bar they were currently pacing towards (most likely to why they were even visiting it again).

Although Y/N was the one who insisted that he shouldn’t approach the girl since glancing at the diamonds anchoring the female to the ground connected all the doubtful dots in the Shelby’s head, she couldn’t help but to feel bad when Michael had been stranded alone as soon as he leaned against the bar, the targeted girl fleeing from the scene as if offended. Alone and filty rich. A combination a gang member would approach for only a night’s fun since a whole relationship was not guaranteed, though, the statement was an exception for Thomas Shelby.

“Keep babbling, cousin. You’re just mad no one sucked your dick in a week.” Isaiah threw his head back at her words. Straying pass the Gray, he patted on Michael’s rigid shoulder which had been tensed, stuffed with clenched muscles.

“She’s right, Mikey. Loosen up, no one’s ridin’ a horse.” As the pair faded into the warm glow of the pub, Michael flicked his cig that was once breathing. The clothing of the stick became drenched in a mixture of rain water and the liquid seeping out from the mysterious hole in the brick wall. Oh, how he’s going to prove them wrong.

Chatters swirled in with clinking of glasses. While a group of highly intoxicated men in the corner let out a rowdy, boisterous cowboy yell, the pair of women in the opposite corner sat with frowns on their faces, eyes darting at their empty fingers. Isaiah’s eyes grazed over the room, arm pulling the second youngest Shelby closer to rest her body onto his.

“Possessive now, are we?” He shook his head while a grin lingered on his lips. Making way through the weaving strands of people, his fingers drummed onto the wooden counter at a beat while he waited for the bartender to notice their presence.

“Three whiskeys.” Isaiah raised his cigarette in the air while he leaned his back on the prodding bar counter. The bartender’s tongue was ready to slice through the air, to kick in some sense in the mere boy who was demanding a drink without payement. When his eyes caressed over the accompanying lady who had been in his arm, the bartender froze on his spot. A Shelby. Without any opposition, he began to prepare the desired drinks. Shrugging off her heating coat which began to become a nuisance in the warm walls of the pub, Y/N rested the cloth onto the counter.

When Michael finally made his way to the pair, he rummaged through his pocket to pull out a crumpled sheet of paper he had yanked in the warm storage place. It was an impulsive decision. What could he have done? He was to complete the rechecking of the documents he had already jotted down the day before. Y/N’s eyebrows clashed at the amusing sight. Had he gone mental?

Seeing Michael indulge himself in scribbled numbers and smudged letters, Y/N let out a huff before she snatched the paper away, “Dear cousin, I know your balls are probably blue, but would you not? The night is still young, go find someone to fuck.”

Michael grumbled at her jest. Even though they were only a few years apart, she reminded him of a pestering child who was not able to zip their mouth shut for a mere second. Annoyed at her words, his eyes hurled a glance on the arm that were still weighed on her shoulders, “Yeah? Why are you so annoying lately? He’s not rough enough?”

Isaiah took a drag of his cigarette, a faint whistle seeped through his lips, “Low blow, Mikey, low blow. You know you don’t talk bad ‘bout another man’s fucking.” The Gray rolled his eyes before snatching the paper back as if it wasn’t critical for his task in the office, stuffing it back in his pocket without darting a glance of care. His reaction was uncanny when a teared piece off paper with scribbled numbers had been handed to him by a mysterious lady.

“Fine,” Michael scowled. Once the drinks sat in front of them, he downed the rock-glass worth of whiskey in one gulp as if he had been left to die. With a thump, the glass was slammed back onto the counter. “See there? I’m going to fuck them and when I come back, you better buy me a fucking bottle. Alright? Happy?”

Before the pair had a chance to hurl back a reply, the frustrated man stomped towards the sorrowful table of women. The grey smeared corner of the pub was dim, the absence of light played shadows on the pair of gloomy women.

Shrugging her shoulders at her cousin’s unexpected burst of emotions, Y/N threw her focus back to the cup. Taking faint sips, her eyes caressed over the bottles of liquor suspended for display. Isaiah shifted closer towards her, his hips resting on hers while an arm snaked around her waist. In silence, he wondered.

“Am I really not rough?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his possible method of fishing for something to smirk or be smug about. Putting the glass on the surface after taking a sip, she turned her body to face the man, “Was the morning not enough evidence for you?”

The exhilarating and exhausting activity they both participated in seeped through his head once he rewounded the tape. The corners of his lips twirled up at the reminder of her cramped legs and her quivering knees. Sipping the rest of the brown liquid, he shot an eyebrow up as if in contemplation. His elbow rested on the bar, chest facing her while his other hand splayed on her waist, under her coat, thumb caressing the warmth radiated by the skin.

“I forgot about it, want to remind me?” Y/N chuckled, fingers brushing his smooth tie. Before she had the chance to throw back a coquettish flirt; tug on his tie so he was on her, a whistle echoed through the silent room which had died down of chattering.

Craning her head towards the man, her fingers furled against Isaiah’s chest, she blinked as she tried to figure out who he possibly was, “This darkie botherin’ you sweetie?”

Just a few thrown glances, Y/N was sure the man was not from Birmingham. The rough smeared accent and velvet suit was the cover that gave everything away. The mood of the room died down from the prominent presence of the trio of men. Hurling her attention back to her whiskey, she turned her back towards the man. To only give him satisfaction, “Fuck me, look at that ass, boys.”

Isaiah’s jaw clenched. Killing the cig within a push, he nudged himself off of the bar to stand in front of the taunting man, “Fuck off.”

“Isaiah...” Y/N mumbled, fingers gripped around his wrist. With a soft tug, she wished he would back away once she noticed the two accompanies at the back cracking their fingers which echoed sounds of bones snapping in fragments, however, his feet had been attached to the ground, ready to spring into action.

The smirk on the man intensified, the curl of his lips pointed a peak to the corner of his eyes, running up the scar that ran from the side of his face to weave to end at the droop of his orbs, “What did you just say to me?”

“I said, fuck off.”

Letting out a loud, amused cackle, he turned his head towards the two other men, who returned with the same hyena crying, “Hear that boys? The black’s telling us what to do,” Noticing the silent from the man much younger than the three was, he proceeded. “Why you with this dog, miss? Hm?”

Y/N pressed her lips, eyes darting to the back of Isaiah’s head. Her brothers were in London. To risk fighting in their absence doesn’t place good luck on their side. Even though a paper of their appearances could lead to mysterious death on papers, Y/N didn’t want to nudge another leaf onto Tommy’s plate, “Isaiah, let’s just go to the Garrison.”

“We just got our drinks, Y/N. I like it here. We’re staying.” Faltering into a tight line, Y/N’s fingers didn’t pull away from his coat, her fingers still pinching it as if a lost child.

“The darkie still talking?” The man chuckled. “I can’t understand what you barkin’ on ‘bout.”

There was one reason the three was going out tonight even though Michael had babbled on about a busy week. Y/N had managed to drag her cousin out of his working cave to drink. And she succeeded. Although she had considered no trouble for the night, her success deserved a celebration. No one was going to ruin that celebration, “Get the fuck out.”

With an amused twinkle in his eyes, he quirked an eyebrow, “You protectin’ this mutt?”

“No, I’m just tryna protect your face.”

His mouth creaked open, the sword rested on the tip of his tongue, ready to be flicked out. Except, a stinging pain tremored on his face. Like a rock had been rammed on his cheeks, he stumbled back from the great force. Oh, the night would’ve been long as she wanted it to be. Except, it wasn’t filled with fucking and drinking. Just blood and punches.

Isaiah’s purple smeared eyes creased at the faint pout sported on her lips. A hiss seeped through the cracks of his sparkly teeth when the taut bruised muscles around his eyes had been tugged too tightly. Y/N glanced up from his hands that were engulfed in hers, her thumb halted in the dipping bump of his knuckles. The strings of branching lines plastered on the scorching red line of hills had been thoroughly washed with water, the first thing Y/N did as soon as they entered the house.

“You’re poutin’. That bad huh?” His hands pulled out of her grip to tug her waist to stand between his legs. Y/N hummed. As her fingers caressed the purple smears on his face, she rested her forearms on his shoulders.

“They ruined your face.” Isaiah let out a chuckle.

“That’s the only thing you care ‘bout?” The words caused her teeth to slide out of the cave, pressing onto her bottom lip.

“That was an bonus point,” Resting her forehead onto his, she gazed deep into his eyes, noticing the plastered sparkles across the abyss. “Glad they didn’t take your cock.”

Without any more words, Isaiah hoped off the table with a creak. Despite the fresh streaks of red on his knuckles, he threw her on before making himself a place between her opened legs. Her mouth gaped open, soft moans trickling into the air in surges that tested his endurance. Isaiah’s lips brushed against the hollow column of her throat before placing a smacking kiss on her humming skin. With her fingers weaved through his hair, she tugged on the locks once he rolled his hips at an agonizing pace.

“‘saiah...” Y/N stammered, teeth chewing on her bottom lip. He let out a chuckle, muffled by the crook of her neck when her legs quivered, hips pressing against him for more friction. His pelvis sat in between her wide open thighs which gave him the best position for his bulging tent to prod against her clothed heat. A hum trickled down his throat while his fingers slithered up her dress to glide over her thighs. Hovering over the radiating barrier that blocked his fingers from her drenched

“For fuck’s sake!” John grumbled. The force he had exerted on barging the door open caused splints of wood to trip over, covering a bedding on the floor as if a neutral-coloured carpet. Y/N didn’t think twice before shoving Isaiah off who let out an ‘oof’ before she sprung off the surface.

Mumbling a a sorry under her breath, she turned towards her older brother, cheeks painted red, flushed from the disturbance, “John!” Y/N yelled, slightly annoyed.

With an irritated pace, Thomas stood by the door, a cig dangling between his fingers. The suspense trickled up her arms while he took his time to huff a drag, “We leave for two fucking days and you lot found yourself in trouble. Fucking unbelievable.”