#john shelby and reader

[toms-cherry-trees]

Story Of Us|| John Shelby x Reader

Summary: Love is not always ideal. It comes hand on hand with grief

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Infant/maternal death, grief, teen pregnancy, angst

Author’s note: Nothin to see here, move forward to the story. This took me 2 hours to write and I didn’t proofread one bit

John had always lived in a dilemma. Ever since his dad walked out on them, he tried to get approval from his family, the one thing he never received as a child.. But he only ended up being scolded. When he had to crack the news that he had knocked up Martha, both being just fifteen years of age, Polly hit him across the head with a wooden spoon, and Arthur had to hide him from Martha’s father, who had come for him with a musket.

John and Martha knew they were too young, but they were in love the way only teenagers can be, and the only way they would be allowed together was this. With a baby and the obligation to marry to preserve Martha’s honour. They were wed three months after the musket incident, Martha dressed in a borrowed white dress which did little to hide her rounded bump, and John stuffed in one of his father’s old suits, hastily tailored by Polly. Only the groom’s family was in attendance, since Martha’s father had kicked her out of the house.  

Four months later a boy had been born in John’s own bed; a squirming, chubby thing with the most powerful lungs in the whole of Birmingham. Two more babies came in quick succession, another boy and another girl.

And then came the war.

In the time between their rushed marriage and 1914, John had managed to make more or less a living for himself. He had gotten his own home, being able at last to move Martha and the kids out of the cramped quarters of the family home. And they had a young girl from the area helping Martha rear the kids. Life seemed as perfect as it could get until the war struck and the war office came looking for them. Even though the conscription was voluntary at first, it would only be a matter of time before they came and dragged them out of their homes by their feet. John tested his luck as much as he could, even after Tommy and Arthur had already joined the front. But he had started to get dirty looks whenever he left the house, and one morning he woke up to his doorstep filled with chicken feathers. So he went, and left Martha with the kids and the nanny to hold up the fort in his absence.

None of them could know for certain how long they would be away, and it was worrisome to think it could be years before they returned, if they ever did, while the women in their lives were left to fend for themselves. Being granted leave to go home was a privilege mostly reserved for officers, and with John’s explosive nature and cockiness, he spent many months penalised without leave. The first time he managed to go home, in the second half of 1915, Martha and the kids had thrown themselves at his legs and his neck, unwilling to let him go.

In the two weeks he spent in Birmingham, he left Martha with child yet again. The news arrived with delay, as they do when you receive mail in the battlefield, and even more when said letters are heavily monitored by the officers. The letter had been sent a month and a day before it made it into his hands, but the news were not any less joyous, although tinted with a pang of guilt of not being there to support his wife. But John played his part, behaving like a good soldier for once in order to receive leave in time to see his newborn. They estimated the date for the first half of May 1916, a glorious spring.

But the thing is, letters carrying bad news move just as slow and delayed as the good ones. Even slower so, since the war office ordered anything that could tamper with the soldiers’ morale and spirits to be suppressed. John made the entire journey home, on truck, ship and train, only to find Martha had passed 4 weeks before his arrival, alongside their newborn girl. Polly had intercepted him on the train station, having seen him descend from the platform on her way from the market. The toothy grin tugging on his lips slowly fell into a frown as Pol grabbed his arm and practically tugged him into an alley to give him a resumed version of the events, but John didn’t want to hear. He didn’t care how, or why, or when. He only knew, as the ground swayed beneath his feet, that his sweet, lovely wife had left this world without him by his side, and had taken their babe with her to not be alone. Leaving John, aged 22, with a broken heart and 3 young children in the middle of a never ending war.

Polly and Tommy, who also happened to be on leave at that time, had made arrangements for everything after Martha’s passing. Polly had wanted to take in the children herself, to keep them under her wing. But when she even tried to take them out of the house, they clung to their nanny’s skirts like a lifeline, refusing to even step an inch away. Pol understood quickly that having just lost their mother and being in permanent threat of also losing their father, she couldn’t rip them away from the only stable person in their lives. So the girl, having grown deeply fond of her wards, moved into the home full time to look after them in every way a mother would, since the children had grown to love her like one.

When John returned home, he expected to find a gloomy and deserted place, with the hearth cold and empty and lamps out, much like he felt inside his own head. But of course reality rarely matches the expectations, whether good or bad. The children were laughing, playing with some wooden figurines on the carpet. Aged seven, five and three, they were already a force to be reckoned with, being able to mess a room in the blink of an eye. Yet here they were, playing happily under the caring gaze of their nanny. The four of them were startled by his arrival, with the kids scrambling over each other to jump into his arms, knocking over a chair and a side table, sending a vase with daisies crashing down. Home sweet home.

~

That night, after the kids were put to bed, John sat near the fireplace, nursing a glass of whiskey in his hands. Martha always warned him when the drinks began piling up on the table and his head; her voice whispering in his mind kept him from bringing the liquid to his lips, no matter how desperately he craved the numbness only spirits can provide.

You walked out of the kitchen, untying the apron from your waist. Most of the house chores were neglected during the day, since every waking hour was filled with rearing the little Shelbys. The oldest, David, would be starting school very soon, but you didn’t see how that would come to be, since he refused to be away from you for long. The youngest, Sarah, spent most of her day perched on your hip, although at 2 years of age she was already getting too heavy to carry. Theo, who had just turned five, acted as middle children often do, keeping mostly to himself and showing himself to be independent.

You hadn’t noticed John sitting there, since he was slumped on the floor, his head propped on the sofa and his legs splayed before him. His boots were nowhere to be found and his shirt discarded aside, leaving him only in undershirt. You would have just walked past him if he hadn’t called your name.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes Mr. Shelby?”

“Sit here for a little bit”

Perplexity was not quite the word to describe what you felt, but it came close enough. You had never been afraid of your boss; he and Martha had offered you a job when you most needed it, and they even treated you as a friend, since you were only a year younger than them. You were the one who mediated between them when things got tense, as often happened when very young people were thrusted abruptly into adult life; resentment inevitably building up on the grave of robbed childhood and dreams. And you were the one who took the kids out of the house when they inevitably made peace with each other.

But the situation had changed; the wife dead, the husband away, and you had basically become owner and lady of the home in the meantime, forced to step up for the babies you had known nearly since the cradle. Perhaps taking attributions that didn’t belong to you, but everything done with the best intentions in your heart.

You sat in the armchair farthest away from him, your body perched on the very edge of the seat and your legs laced at the ankles.

John doubted his words, still swirling the whiskey in the glass. Not a tear had left track on his cheeks, but the corners of his eyes were reddened, like those of a man who had learned, either willingly or by force, to hold back emotions.

“Were you here when…when Martha…” The phrase was left hanging in the air

“Yes I was. I had been staying full time already, in case the baby came at night”

Silence. Words slowly dawning on his mind fogged by barely contained grief.

He swallowed thickly “What happened?”

You closed your eyes and breathed in slowly. You knew he would eventually ask, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you. The desire to know something could turn almost morbid the longer the answer was denied, but you didn’t want to give the grisly details with the wound so fresh, so you hoped he would content with the shortened version.

“The baby came too early, more than a month. And then it got stuck, and the labour dragged on for too long. The girl was….born sleeping. She named her Katie. And then Mrs Shelby caught an infection” You stopped there, hoping the vague narration would be enough explanation so you could avoid the more sensible details.

John nodded slowly, his gaze only fixated in his whiskey glass “Did she…did she say anything? Before she…”

“Mr. Shelby…” You protested, not believing him ready to hear it all

“Just say it!” The words came a lot more harshly than he intended, but they had been dropped and couldn’t be taken back.

You nodded and looked down at your lap, fidgeting with your apron “She told me to look after her babies. And to look after you. She told me we should not be sad for long, because she hated sad faces and life was sad enough as it was and her loved ones had to live happy lives on her behalf. She only asked…she asked that we made sure her kids never forgot about her” Your lower lip trembled. Holding her hand as life slipped away from her had been traumatic for you as well; like watching your own older sister die under your watch.

Your last words broke something inside John. At first, barely perceptible, his lower lip trembled and his eyes glazed while he pondered over his wife’s last words. Then all of a sudden the floodgates opened, tears coursing freely down his cheeks as sobs racked his body. The glass fell and shattered, and you, always acting on maternal instinct, tried to pull him away from the carpet so he wouldn’t land his hand on the shards. But in the brief second your hands touched him, John clung to your waist in the same fashion his eldest son did when he had a nightmare. The force of his embrace pulled you down on the floor, his head burrowed on your lap and his fingers digging on the fabric of your blouse. You had no words to console him, for sometimes, there is no real consolation. So you did the best you could, which was letting him cry out his sorrow and anger in the same apron that had wiped his children’s tears; while you rubbed soothing circles in his back. John cried it all out until his tears had run dry and his frantic heartbeat stilled. Crying is usually followed by drowsiness, and before you knew it your boss had fallen asleep on your lap, soothed by the faint scent of lavender on your clothes. You didn’t want to move him and disrupt the feeble stillness of peace, so you sat there all night, your head perched on the sofa and your hand on his back, dwelling on the creaking of the fire in the hearth.

~

It couldn’t be helped, the way the bond you and John had of mere friendship morphed into something else. Ever since Martha’s passing, John had managed to squeeze pity out of the war office, being granted leave more often than others to see his children. In the meantime, you took marvellous care of them, and they loved you maybe even more than they loved him.

The way he became drawn to you may seem rushed, but it came from a place of grief. A man with his heart in tatters, finding comfort in the arms that hugged and cuddled his children. Every time he returned home on leave, his barely retained sorrow spilled out the second he crossed the threshold of his home and the memories came crashing like an avalanche. Instead of getting better, he seemed to slowly grow worse. Could it be the grief, could it be the war, seeing his children more grown and mature every time he came, or a mixture of everything, but each leave it became harder to enter his home, and at the end it became harder to return to the front.

John spent many hours of his day locked in his bedroom, splayed on his bed accompanied by a whiskey, inhaling the fading scent of lotion on Martha’s nightgown. More than once you had to threaten to break in through the window in order to coax John into coming out and eating. The children barely noticed his behaviour, far too accustomed to his absence by now, but it pained you to see him miss out on every precious second he could spend with his family, knowing well it could be the last. Not wanting to be mindless of his pain, you gave him a few days to settle and then forced him out of the shell. No one would be called to dine until he came to sit with you all; you would go out to shop alone, making him watch the kids; if one of them had a nightmare at night, you knocked on his door and made him go and lull them back to sleep. You knew it was hard for him, but this is what Martha would have wanted. She wanted John to carry on living, and that he would do, with you behind to support him.

But you never expected to catch feelings in the process. Never had you thought about him as any more than your boss and friend, not before Martha and certainly not after. But looking after him, being his strength at home, even more so than his blood family, it is hard for feelings to not get tangled in the middle. You were the one who saw him sob his eyes out over a picture in the middle of the night: the one who bandaged his hands when he beat the wall in a fit of rage over the unfairness of life, and the one who kept that little family up and running.

On one of his last leaves, in October of 1918, he had, for the first time, sat with all of you for dinner on his first back home without threats or begging. As you served the stew, John cleared his throat to call attention “Tomorrow we are going out. It is a little surprise, but I promise we will have fun”

The children jumped in excitement. It had been far too long since they had all gone out as family, and the prospect of a day out with dad was the best outlook ever. You smiled as you poured a glass for John “What time do you need the kids ready, Mr Shelby?”

“Everyone ready at 10, and I mean everyone. You are coming with us of course, it is a family day”

Your breath hitched in your throat and heat rose to your cheeks, but you just nodded, hiding your shyness behind your glass. The next day the five of you went to an apple orchard, right on time as the sweetest fruits were being harvested. The children ran rampant across the field with wicker baskets, collecting dropped fruits which they would be able to exchange at the end of the day for candy. John and you followed closely behind, both in silence but enjoying the sounds of nature and the laughter of the kids. The autumn leaves crunched beneath your feet making a most delicious sound. For a day, you could all pretend that war had never happened and life was more or less normal. At the end, the children dropped the apples in big wooden troughs, and in exchange were given toffee apples. John bought you two pints of cider which you drank together, sitting under a tree while watching the children play with other kids and trying to sneak more candied apples from the stand

“Look at that, David stole an apple” Far from being outraged, you found the situation amusing “He is your son alright”

John chuckled “Are you insinuating I am a thief, Miss (Y/N)”

“Martha told me all the tales of your youth, Mr. Shelby. Stealing candy is one thing, but stealing liquor from a bar is an extraordinary prowess” You smirked

John’s demeanour dropped ever so slightly at the name, but he was quick to pick himself up “I miss her. She should be here watching the children grow. There should be a toddler here with us, and another baby on the way”

“Missing is part of grieving” You patted his hand “It means you lived and loved. Even if you stop grieving you’ll never stop missing”

John pondered over your words, staring at the bottom of his pint “Thank you for being here…if you hadn’t been here, we would all have fallen apart. I would have fallen apart but you glued me back together out of your pure stubbornness so I would be there for me kids” John squeezed your hand “You have saved us all”

You chuckled “Saviour is a bit too far I’d say. But I am glad I could be of help. You are a good man John, and you deserve good things” It dawned on you a second too late that you had called him by his first name. The apologies were already piling in your tongue but John laughed it out “Seven bloody years it took you to call me John”

You could only join in on his infectious laughter, feeling the worries flutter away. It had been a while since he last laughed, and you took it as a sign of his healing. The rest of the evening went in a blissful blur, with you two sharing bites of an apple while he picked fallen leaves off your hair, and having to haul all three kids home in your arms, them too tired to walk. John surprised you with having stuffed his coat’s wide pockets with apples, and you surprised him in return with a homemade apple pie.

You enjoyed every day of his leave, dreading the moment he would once more part. The children had, now that they were older, come to resent his absences, and it always broke them a little to have him return only to leave, perhaps forever, over and over and over again. But one the last day, right before being due to leave, John arrived back after being out all morning, loaded with parcels and gifts. He had received news from the war office to not return to his post, for truce would be called in less than a week. The men would return home and the nightmare would be over.

“Tonight we celebrate like never before!”

Everyone received presents that day. The children received toys, John sent gifts for his aunt and siblings, and he even bought you a new dress. That night you feasted like you had never before, the evening topped with a marvellous store bought cake and the children falling asleep earlier than usual, stuffed with turkey and cake. After they were put to bed, it was only John and you before the fire, passing back and forth a bottle of champagne. The day was for joy and celebration and all boundaries had been torn down. You two were laughing just for the sake of laughter and the relief of having survived hell.

“So what happens now, once the Shelbys are back on track?” You inquired curiously “Business as usual?”

“I reckon men will be eager to vent off steam and enjoy the things they missed out. I promise the den will be up to the beams with patrons. Future is looking bright” He took a swing of the bottle, foam trickling down the side of his lip. You reached up to wipe the liquid with the back of your hand. John eyed you curiously before bringing up a far different topic.

“Have you thought about getting married?”

You did very poorly in hiding your surprise “Me? Married? Why do you ask?”

He simply shrugged “You are a lovely young lady, in the prime of your life. Surely don’t you plan on spending the rest of your days taking care of other people’s kiddos?”

A smirk tugged on your lips “Are you planning on firing me, Mr. Shelby?”

“Wouldn’t dare to, love. Just wanting to know if someone is knocking at your heart”

Oh someone was knocking at your heart at the very moment. Your heartbeat hammered your ribs, ready to escape off your chest out of your mouth. “No one is, Mr. Shelby”

Those words had barely made it out when his lips came crashing into yours, his warm hand cradling your jaw, the other placed in the middle of your back and pulling you close. His lips were soft and gentle, and his hands kept a firm grip on you. Your own hands came to lay on his chest, feeling his fluttering heartbeat under your touch. The kiss seemed to last forever and nothing at the same time. When he pulled away you were out of breath, but also wanted to keep going until time ended. When John broke the kiss, he remained close enough to lean his forehead on yours.

“I didn’t screw it up, did I?” A boyish grin played on his lips.

“Not one bit, not at all” Your index traced the side of his jaw, feeling the muscles tense as his smile widened

“So you won’t mind it I test my luck again” And just like that, his lips once more came onto yours, this time both hands on your waist as your arms came around his neck. It was funny, but in that moment you knew, after just one kiss, that you never wanted to kiss any other lips but his, nor feel any other hands’ on your waist or your hair.

You knew his grieving had not come to an end, and he would continue to love his first wife to the end of his days. But that did not mean he did not have space in his heart for you, nor that he would feel for you any less. It only meant he had lived, and would continue to do so with you.

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[cruel-seduction]

It’s like a full-blown addiction, but instead of drugs or booze, it’s this fictional guy who’s got her wrapped around his finger. She knows it’s fucked up—knows she’s out here daydreaming about someone who’s not even real—but who cares? This guy? He’s everything. He’s charming in the worst ways, flawed in every possible sense, but there’s just something about him that has her hooked. He doesn’t even know she exists, but she’s ready to fight anyone who says a word against him. Seriously, she’ll defend his honor like it’s a fucking life-or-death mission.

He’s a goddamn trainwreck, but he’s her trainwreck. She’ll put up with all his baggage, his emotional scars, his dark sides, because somehow, that brokenness makes him feel more real to her than any real guy could. He’s messed up, but she’ll fix him in her head every single time. Maybe it’s that thrill of knowing he’s dangerous and untouchable that makes him even more irresistible. He might break her heart in a hundred ways, but it’s the kind of heartbreak that makes her feel alive, even if it hurts like hell.

And it’s never gonna happen, right? She knows that. He’s not gonna waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. But it doesn’t matter. Because she gets to have him on her terms—no messy reality, no awkward first dates, no risking her heart for real. He’s always there when she needs him, in that perfect little bubble of fantasy she’s built for herself. And maybe she’s a little crazy for it, but at least with him, she’s never disappointed. Every time she replays his scenes, reads the fanfics, imagines their future together—it's like a high she can never quite shake. She knows it's all just a mindfuck, but she’s never felt more alive.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Saving My Fanfiction Work

First. Side note: This post was only intended to give resources to fanfiction writers and enjoyers. My talk on recent political events was a context/reasoning on why I made this post. Also I’ve had to add more information to this post over time due to people’s confusion in my comments. Explaining it was to make sure that this post didn’t come off as out of the blue for my followers and this community. Which is fanfiction.

Also, why I made this post was from people asking if they could download my fanfiction because of the recent political events in America hence why I named it “saving my fanfiction work” and added my context. So this was also a post to tell people that liked my fanfiction they could download it as long as it was for their personal collection. I merely just wanted to list resources to people who wanted to download fanfiction and don’t know where to start or don’t have the immediate resources. I’m not here to fear-monger. I am just giving resources and the reasoning on why I’m giving them along with urging people to look into those information/recent events as staying aware is important. I respect everybody who’s given their opinion and yes, some of my grammar in this post is not adequate as this post was merely made for giving/stating resources.

Lastly, I will no longer update this post with comments as I’ve said my peace, nor will I pay attention to the notifications as they are muted. As my page is for fanfiction not politics. Thank you for the people in this community who share this post for the resources see you around the tags! Stay safe friends!!✨ Remember I love you! And you are loved!💛

-

Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.

Along with the KOSA bill that has many problems and it has passed the senate now needing the finally vote in the house, which both are majority red. Go here to learn more on why it needs to be stopped and how you can. This is another component that will harm our communities. Go to: stopkosa.com

With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.

I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.

Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)

For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only. To clarify I’m saying this as others have asked if they could download my fanfic so for those who would like to you can.

If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.

Here are some links to tutorials:

Downloading Fanfic

Adding to Iphone & Android Library

Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)

Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)

Types of Files and What they mean

Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.

DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.

DO NOT repost the downloaded file under your name.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!

And here are some resources in case you don’t feel okay! Resources here

[nemesis-writer]

POV- Writing for ____x reader fic

[peaky1wh0re]

Smash.

[stillinracooncity]

that feminine urge to read something that makes you cry, get angry, scream, laugh like a hormonal teenager, turn up the heat, feel like the most unique and beautiful human being on earth. *sighs*

[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.

[queenshelby]

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door.  You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book. 

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to. 

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever.  He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed. 

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas  said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble. 

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister,"  Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear. 

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you  said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips  tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him. 

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy,"  you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect,"  he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn. 

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and  the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and  I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?"  you said the words before you could stop yourself. 

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine." 

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings. 

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?"  Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. 

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your  hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation. 

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly,  he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse  voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

[mydear-corinthian]

Bait || Shelby family x reader

Synopsis: Reader went out partying and the Shelby family's enemy attacked her. Pairing: Shelby family x sister! reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured badly, mentions of blood, stabbing, and violence, swearing Notes: rushed :C, gif is mine Click here to find the MAIN Masterlist Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS Masterlist

It was just a usual night in Small Heath. Due to the boredom, you decided to go outside and maybe have a little fun.

You dressed up. A long gold dress decorated your body. A feathered hat decorated your head. And a few pearl jewelry shined your neck, arms, and ears. Grabbing your gold colour purse, you exited your room, spiraling down the wooden stairs of your family's house.

As you went down, Polly saw you. "Where you going, love?" she asked, smiling.

Grabbing a cigarette stick, you placed it on your lips, leaning to Polly as your aunt was also about to light her long black stick of the cancerous stick. "Party, Aunt Pol. I'm getting bored staying in this house," you replied, your cigarette finally lit.

The matriarch of the family took a puff of her cigarette, her serious eyes locked on yours. 

"Where? Who's going with you?" Polly asked.

"Oh, Aunt Pol.., I'll be fine. It's just 2 streets away from here. I'll be home at 2 am."

"Take care and enjoy love," she smiled, opening the door of the house's entrance, allowing you to exit the house.

<>

The only real issue was that you were wearing heels on the short walk from the house to the party location. Warm lights and vehicles adorned the spacious mansion. The estate was packed with elegantly dressed people in suits. You headed straight to the mansion's bar as soon as you got there and ordered a drink for yourself. Your heels reverberated against the bar's porcelain tiles. Men made up the majority of the crowd, and they were all too busy chatting, drinking, and trying to find women to satisfy their lusts.

"Whiskey, please," you ordered. You sat down just in front of the barman, glancing at everyone while waiting for your drink.

There were a few faces, you knew them because of your brother, Tommy and some were rich clients from the betting shop.

Finally, the barman gently placed a glass of whiskey in front of you. "Your drink, Madam."

You thanked him, picked up the glass, and sipped, letting the alcohol wash over your mouth. After placing a couple more drink orders, you made your way to the dance floor and started to dance energetically to the loud music being played. You moved your hips in time with the song's tune. You're waving your arms in the air. As you danced with the women, the dance floor was filled with a chorus of woos and laughs. Drinks were chugged into your system in tremendous amounts.

<>

You excused yourself and your new friends to go the restroom after a few hours of nonstop drinking and dancing. You were relieved that after eating at your place for a few hours, despite having numerous drinks, you were sober. You reapplied your clothing and your cherry lipstick as you straightened your hair in front of the big mirror. It's almost two, you realize as you glance at your pocket watch. Because you're the kind of person who takes responsibility seriously, is mature, and always arrives on time, Polly wasn't concerned about you going out late to party. After gathering your belongings, you put them back into your golden handbag and head out of the bathroom.

Finally saying goodbye to your new girlfriends, your heels found their way to the mansion's exit. Since you were sober already, you decided to take a walk back home.

As you walk through the dark streets of Birmingham, you cannot help but feel uneasy. You felt like you weren't alone at all. You felt that someone or somebody was following you.

And you were right.

Reaching for your pocket gun, you tried to protect yourself from the person who was following you by looking over your shoulder. You were too late, though. You were forcefully grabbed by two men, one of whom disarmed your gun. You were trapped against the wall by two rough pairs of arms, your head hitting the rocky concrete. Particularly on your stomach, you felt something cold and sharp graze your flesh, and the pain eventually got intolerable.

"What the fuck do you want!" you panted weakly, feeling a warm liquid drip on the side of your stomach.

"Just.. sending a message to your git brother," the low Irish accent sent shivers down your spine.

Campbell.

On the other hand, Polly was at the dining table, a cigarette in her hand as she watched the clock tick.

It was already past 2 and she started to get worried. You always come home on time - not even a minute late.

Polly hurriedly went to the telephone and dialed Tommy's number, her fingers shivering.

"Hello?"

"Tommy,"

"Pol? Why are you calling at this hour?"

"I-it's (y/n). She's not home yet and I'm starting to get worried. Oh God, Tommy. What if something happened to her?" Polly stammered, holding the telephone pole tightly.

"Not at home? I'll call John and Arthur." Tommy replied before ending the call.

<>

You tried to move and get out from their touch but due to the injury that you had, you were getting weaker.

"Tell your fucking boss to fuck off!" you hollered, heaving due to the pain down your stomach.

Punches rained down on you so hard you were gasping for air and screaming in pain as two strong fists crashed into your stomach and chest. Every blow sent waves of pain through your body, causing your legs to buckle and your breath to come in short, frantic gasps. Every strike was brutal, breaking your will and power in the process.

During the cruel assault, a fresh, burning pain suddenly appeared in your abdomen. Compared to previous experiences, this feeling was sharper and stronger. Frightened, you looked down to see the sparkle of a blade pressing against your body again. The man with the knife was cautious, taking his time as he carved the initials "C.C" into your flesh. The letters were an endless source of pain and abuse burned into your mind.

Dizziness was starting to get worse and worse but you paid no mind as you built up all of your strength to get up and grab your gun that was thrown on the cold hard bricks of the dark alley. Your cold fingertips pulled the trigger, emptying the bullet chamber by shooting them non-stop.

Two bodies were now on the cold floor, both lifeless, and their blood pooling out of their bodies, mixing with the hard concrete.

"You don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders."

Taking a deep breath at what happened, you stood up but moaned in pain after you felt the cuts and bruises all over your body. Looking down at your stomach, your dress was slit and filled with your blood.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. Leaving your bag alone and limply walked back to the house.

Every step was a painful fight and the walk seemed to go on forever. Your back was laden with weight, and the pressure turned your spine into a throbbing rod of agony. Your single shoe scraped the uneven sidewalk, causing sharp pains to shoot through your leg with each step. As you struggled to remain straight the world around you became hazy and wobbly, and your vision became less sharp at the edges. You could feel consciousness sliding away, hovering on the edge of darkness, and every breath was a strained gasp. If you returned home without passing out, you were quite lucky.

Thankfully, you did.

Your bloodied palm opened the silver-colored knob, twisting it, and opened the door with all of your might.

There Polly was, looking at you with widened eyes. She ran towards you immediately, checking up on you.

"Dear God (y/n)! What happened to you?!"

Your body became weak due to a lack of strength in your muscles. You had a really pale face. Your dress was stained and damaged by your blood, and your hair is disheveled. Your aunt's voice fades more and further, the walls in your head beginning to swirl. After that, all you could see was darkness.

Polly caught you before your head contact with the wooden floor. Your arm limped on her touch.

The whole Shelby family including Michael, arrived at the doorstep, looking at the scene in front of them with their eyes locked and widened.

"Help me out here!"

As Polly commanded, everyone went inside. Tommy, John, and Arthur carried you gently before placing you on the dinner table that was filled with glasses and plates. Tommy removed the items on the table before Arthur placed you there. Michael and Ada quickly grabbed the first aid kit that was inside the kitchen room's wooden cabinet.

When Polly teared up your dress, she gasped.

"C.C.. Fucking Campbell," Polly's voice hissed, seeing the carved initials on your stomach, bleeding harshly.

Your breaths started to get faint and weaker, your body started to get cold.

"Stay with me, (y/n)," Ada whispered between sobs as she watched Polly do something with your wounds and help her aunt hand out the supplies that she needed.

"Fuck.. Fuck!" Tommy shouted, walking in circles as he rubbed his temples harshly.

"Arthur, John, Finn, Michael, find Campbell immediately!" he ordered.

"Bring me back his fucking head."

Michael and the brothers moved quickly, their actions a blur of rage and anger. They took immediate action after realizing this. With a mixture of terror and determination, their hands trembled as they took out their firearms from their pockets. The icy steel of the weapons was comforting, a guarantee of justice for the wrongs done.

They left the home without saying anything, the wooden door slamming shut behind them with a loud crash. They were barely aware of the sharp, biting night air. Their only thought was to locate the person who was responsible for this. 

"She isn't even part of this fucking shit and yet she was targeted,"

Polly's eyes shot daggers with Tommy's blue orbs while her hands focused on healing up the wounds all over your stomach.

"You better fucking catch him, Tommy."

As soon as Polly's done patching you up, she stormed out in front of her nephew, disappointed at him.

"I'll look out for (y/n). You heard Aunt Pol, catch that bastard," Ada said, fixing up the used cotton and alcohol before throwing it out.

Tommy sighed as he exited the house. Looking for the man who did this to you.

<>

You woke up with the sunlight beaming on you. Looking at your surroundings, you noticed where you were right away.

Slowly, you tried getting up but your body fell again, moaning in pain.

"Easy, (y/n). Don't move, your wounds are still fresh," Ada said, slowly guiding your back to allow you to lie down comfortably.

"A-Ada, I was so scared... I didn't know what was going on.."

Your eyes were starting to get wet until tears were dropping down your cheeks as you recalled what happened last night.

You were so traumatized. You didn't want to remember again. 

And that time, you knew that remembering is a curse.

"You're safe now, love. We're here now," Polly said, her arms locked with yours, giving you a comforting smile.

The door opened, and your brothers were there.

They immediately greeted you and asked how you were.

"God, love. I'm sorry that happened to you," your oldest brother, Arthur, said, gently combing your hair with his rough fingertips.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'm fine now,"

"We got him already," Finn remarked.

The gang leader showed up, his coat hanging on the chair. His footsteps echoed in the room as he approached you, placing his palms on your head.

"How are you now?" he asked, sighing.

"Fucking scared, Tom. I nearly died! This is fucked up."

"I know, (y/n). I know."

Polly stood up in the middle of the small argument, shutting the both of you. Her fists curl up like a ball, her brows knit together.

"Let her rest first, Tom. She had enough already," she said.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly before exiting the house.

Tommy felt simply anger and guilt. Even though his sister isn't involved in the business, she was the one targeted. She's currently in there getting better from the physical and emotional trauma she recently went through.

"You're safe now, love." Polly gave you a comforting smile before asking the other Shelby siblings for breakfast. 

"Thank you, Aunt Pol."

[wonderlanddreamer]

Tommy Shelby × Reader

Rough Desires - Tommy is always gentle with you, but you crave something with more ferocity. 18+ Only.

The Stable Girl's Sacrifice - Tommy Shelby is forced to confront his feelings when you take a bullet meant for him.

Shadows & Vows - When Tommy discovers bruises on your skin, a fierce protectiveness awakens within him.

Jealous Heat - It's a dangerous game making Tommy Shelby jealous, but you play it so well. 18+ Only.

Sleep vs. Sex - Tommy wakes you up in the middle of the night because he needs you. 18+ Only.

Buried - Buried beneath the earth, Tommy's only hope lies in your relentless determination to bring him back.

Lean On Me - When you're hurt during an incident at the Garrison, it's Tommy who notices and takes care of you.

Do You Know What Happens To Naughty Girls? - Where discipline sets the stage for an intense power play with the Shelby brothers. 18+ Only.

John Shelby × Reader

Bite Me, John Shelby - "Wait, I didn't mean literally!" You get more than you bargained for when you playfully challenge John Shelby. 18+ Only.

Obsession - John Shelby owns you, and he isn't going to let you forget it. 18+ Only.

Alfie Solomons × Reader

His Serenity - After Alfie has a bad day, you help him find peace in your own, sensual way. 18+ Only.

Head Over Heels - A business meeting with Alfie Solomons when Alfie has anything but business on the brain. 18+ Only.

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[cruel-seduction]

"If you see a guy with emotional baggage, morally grey vibe, and a smirk that could ruin lives manipulating me, just so you know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be."

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Everyone: *chatting around the dining room table for a family dinner*

Tommy: *hands Y/N the salt*

Y/N: Thanks, dad

Everyone: *stops talking and stares*

Y/N: *confused* Why is everyone staring at me?

Ada: You just called Tommy ‘dad’. You said, ‘Thanks, dad’

Y/N: What? No! I said, ‘Thanks, bro’

Tommy: Do you see me as a father figure, N/N?

Y/N: Pftt- no! If anything, I see you as a bother figure, cause you’re always bothering me!

John: Hey! Show your father some respect!

Y/N: I didn’t call him ‘dad’!

Tommy: No, no, Y/N, I take it as a compliment

Arthur: It’s no big deal. I called Linda ‘mom’ once and she’s my wife!

Y/N: Guys, jump on that! Arthur has psycho issues!!

Finn: Old news. But you called Tommy ‘dad’

Y/N: Guys, for the last time, I didn’t call Tommy ‘dad’!

Tommy: That’s alright, I believe you-

Y/N: *sighs in relief* Thank you

Tommy: -daughter. You want to talk about it later over a game of catch?

Y/N:

Y/N: *tears up* I'd like that

[thomaslittlegirl]

fav position with the peaky blinders ! <3

thomas shelby; cowgirl.

thomas definitely loves it when you're sitting on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you as he helps you out by making your hips meet his. he loves watching your tits bounce in front of him and groping them.

extra points; if you occasionally wrap your hands around his neck and suffocate him for a moment. loves being choked.

john shelby; missionary.

he goes insane when he has your legs on his shoulders. he fucks you hard and deep, making sure to leave his cum deep inside you. once he cums, he doesn't pull out of you until he gets hard again to continue filling your pussy with his warm seed.

he wants to get you pregnant no matter what and he makes sure of that, fucking you until he notices a small swelling in your abdomen from all the times he's filled you up.

arthur shelby; doggy style.

having you with your chest pressed against the mattress and your ass in the air for him to penetrate makes him feel an indescribable power. he loves how vulnerable the position leaves you and he loves that he is the one in charge of the situation; very hard when he has you like this, spanking you until he leaves the mark of his hand on your cheeks.

finn shelby; spooning.

the intimacy of the position drives him crazy. he loves doing it when he's too tired to put in the effort but too horny to do anything about it. his cock carelessly sliding in and out of your wet pussy while one of his hands sneaks between your legs to caress your clit... yeah, it definitely drives him insane.

michael gray; cowgirl.

if he's not fucking you hard against a wall, he loves you riding him. he likes you to impale yourself on his cock trying to chase down the orgasm of both of you to prove to him that you're good enough.

acts disinterested, smoking a cigarette or just with both arms spread out on the back of the couch, watching you act desperate. "come on, fuck yourself on my cock."