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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Welcome to the ride little Lora, from there every chapter is going to be a roller coaster… So I’m delighted you like it!! 🤭

Your comment made me think and, if I remember well, it’s because I’ve never mentioned it before this chapter. Or maybe I’ve mentioned it just once very quickly! But yesss you’re so right, she’s a little angry French bean!! A fun fact about the French accent is that the name “Arthur” is pronounced completely differently than in English.At the very beginning of their relationship, Heaven had to call him several times because Arthur did not understand she was calling him! Regarding the must, it was hot right? Also risky, but Arthur likes that 🔥😬

Honestly I can understand the family’s reaction a little bit, especially because — as you’ve mentioned— he’s still married and Heaven kinda comes from nowhere. But you’ve pointed out something REALLY true no one did: like, they are doubting a woman can sincerely love Arthur and that’s fucking sad.

Trust me, you’re going to want to strangle Tommy throughout the series, little Lora, because in this chapter he is just warming up. Your info about Eleanor is so interesting, honestly Id have love her to say a few words to Tommy. Somehow I’m sure the two girls would get along! 💚 as for the witch question… No spoil 🤭

Seriously I just love your songs suggestion, I’m really creating a Lora’s suggestion playlist I’ll add to the masterlist if you’re okay with that. The three songs (that I didn’t know) are perfectly on point, I loveeed Sigh, it really fit with the smut teehee. The Hozier’s one… the lyrics are perfect for them. And Cruel — I’m listening on repeat. Thank you so much honey!!

I’m still not believing you’ve been caught by this series, I feel honored af 💚

Heaven in Your Eyes|| Arthur Shelby x OC!Reader

Summary: When Arthur comes home with his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, willing to introduce you to the family, the reactions are lukewarm. Some love you, some are wary, and others do not really care. But when it comes to Thomas Shelby, things are different. After meeting you he comes to two conclusions: first, Arthur is madly smitten with you to the point it worries him. Second, he does not like you. Not at all. That's why he tries to scare you away.

Words: 4,5k

TW: smut, non-protected sex, p in v, age gap (reader is in her late 20s), typical canon violence, mention of suicide attempt, mention of drugs, Tommy being a dick,

Notes: ✞ All chapters can be read as stand-alones but it's obviously better if you read everything.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Bloody Hell.”

That was all John could say when his vibrant blue eyes fell on you. The night Thomas told him Linda and Arthur had divorced, he could not believe it. He, more than anyone else, was well aware of his older brother’s tendencies to kowtow under his wife’s authority. Hence his reluctance to believe in such an improbable event. Once he processed the information, John thought about the whole ordeal over and over again. At first, he genuinely thought Linda was the one who left for she had already threatened Arthur to do so countless times. Let alone the fact their relationship had been hanging on by a thread for a while. Somehow he could not blame her — dealing with his brother’s mental illness and tantrums was overwhelming, he could get it, but if there were positive traits among Arthur’s troubled behaviors they were certainly his loyalty and the gigantic amount of love he could give to his significant other. That was why he was persuaded Arthur would never leave his wife, as much as John and the Shelby women warned him she was not a good person.

— And here he came today after weeks of absolute ghosting, the fairest creature he has ever seen snuggling in his arms. For sure, no one expected it.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell.” He reiterated, standing in the doorway with his hand still on the knob and his eyes wide open. Astounded, John looked at you from head to toe for probably the tenth time in a row.

“Are ya going to stand there like a dumbass or can we come in?” Arthur growled. He tightened his protective embrace around you, ready to bounce on his little brother’s throat at the slightest inappropriate comment. You bit your lip, not really sure what to do or say — maybe meeting the Shelby family was not a good idea after all.

“Is she really your woman?”

“Fuck off, John! Let us in.” Arthur said louder. He did not want to throw a brutal fit in front of you but you could feel his body shaking against yours, for John was about to cross the very short limits of his patience. One of your small hands gently stroked his chest in an attempt to calm him. Luckily for John, the sensation of your cold skin, which he could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt, was enough to tame his fire.

John Shelby blinked again and, this time, his thin adorable lips stretched in a teasing smile. You did not know him, but you felt he was about to say something stupid. Very stupid.

“How could such a stunning young girl like her be interested in an old and ugly ass dog like you? Fuck, is that your real hair color tho?”

The flip in Arthur’s brain switched - it was too much for him not to react.

“YOU LIL PIECE OF —“

“Arthur, dear.” You said with an indescribably soft voice, stepping in front of him to block his path. You pressed your hands on his chest a second time to gently keep him from fighting with his younger brother and probably knocking him out with his bare fists, “It’s alright. He is just messing with ya, you know?” You looked at him, a loving smile flattering your juicy lips. Letting a long and noisy exhale out of his quavering mouth, Arthur looked dagger at his brother one last time with a threatening gleam burning in his iris before shifting his focus on you. As soon as his steel blue eyes caught sight of your adorable pout his face relaxed.

“Alright. Alright.” He whispered, feeling his rage evaporating at the sole view of your holy smile, “Ain’t going to smash his face in front of such a delicate little lady, eh.” He said. The gravel in his voice never failed to make you burn with both love and desire. Then, he leaned over you for a kiss, his mind finding its peace only when your lips crashed together.

John watched the scene with vivid interest, for he had never seen someone handling his brother with such genuine care. To be honest, he had hated Linda since day one — not only for the power she exerted on Arthur but also because of her irritating and condescending nature. She had always walked among the Shelby family as if she had been irremediably better than them, both morally and socially. John could not help but see all her sweet gestures being tainted with a will of controlling Arthur. That, along with the muzzle and leash she had put on her brother, strengthened his deep aversion for Linda. But you were different — he could sense it. There was something about the way your fingers laid upon his brother as if you were not afraid of his destructive fire but did not want to extinguish it either. Also something about the way you looked at him, with both love and admiration, to the point he could not say if you were his guiding light or if it was the other way round. And when he saw the sudden shift in Arthur’s behavior, immediately calming down at your angelic voice, he knew you were the one.

“Moreover” You added, slowly pulling away from the kiss to press your forehead against his. Arthur looked at you with eyes half closed, bewitched by your enchanting tone.

“Hmm?”

“I only see one ugly ass dog here and it’s chewing on a toothpick.” Your smile turned into a cunning smirk and your precious aquamarine eyes glanced at John.

“Hey! Hold your woman.” John retorted, pretending to be vexed — truth was he liked your wit, “Alright you can come in,” he said, stepping away from the doorway to invite you inside the Shelby’s house.

“Ain’t holding shit, I love it when me angel bites,” Arthur stated with one sharp, almost carnivorous grin on his face. As he passed by his little brother he punched him right in the shoulder in a typical sibling way to avenge himself. The younger one swore.

You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, trying to find the necessary courage you needed for this first encounter. Admittedly, you did not know what to expect, but one thing you knew was that the Shelby family was not people you wanted to mess with.

A relieved sigh escaped from your lips as you filled the teapot with water, all alone in the family kitchen. You enjoyed this quick moment of calmness, soothed by the pleasant smell of freshly baked cookies Esme had taken out of the oven minutes ago. The wooden floor creaked when Arthur entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. As soon as you left the table following Polly’s comment he had followed you.

“Yer okay?” He asked, his hoarse voice highlighted with sincere worries.

“I’m fine dear,” You glanced at him above your shoulder and offered a light smile to reassure him even though you both knew you were hurt, “You should go back to your family, I won’t be long.. Just needed to take a big breath. And we are running out of tea.” You added, waving off his question.

Arthur shook his head in disapproval and walked toward you with his so-specific yet adorable gait, swinging both arms at the same time. You had always found this detail absolutely endearing, which had surprised him at first — you never mocked him for the way he walked, nor made the slightest snarky remark.

Your smile, flickering and fragile at first, soon widened in comfort knowing he’ll keep you company during this life-saving break.

“I’m sorry for what Pol said to you. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Pretty sure she did mean I was a Devil and that I’ll bring woe to this family, but it’s fine.” You said before shifting your attention back to the teapot. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in a tight and reassuring back hug. As soon your bodies collided together, his warmth alleviated all your doubts and you found a well-deserved comfort in his presence. Worries vanished in smoke, annihilated by his protective demeanor.

Each time you touched was a reminder that everything will always be fine as long as you were together.

You wiggled your nose like a little bunny for his musky perfume tickled your nostrils. And its familiar fragrances were enough to chase Polly’s unpleasant comments away from your brain. If you had not been busy making tea, you would have buried your face in his chest and never moved again.

“It has nothing to do with ya,” Arthur broke the silence first, “it’s your hair.”

“My hair?” You asked in a half-convinced tone, one brow raised.

“Yes, your hair. She thinks someone cast a spell on ya when you were young or something, and she’s afraid the spell will harm her too if she sits next to you. Like it’s bloody contagious. It’s some kind of superstitious shit, not that she had really felt something evil in you.”

At such a revelation, you brought your small hand to your mouth to cover it and tried your best not to laugh. If her words had hurt you, painfully reminding your troubled life in France, the idea of a strong woman like Polly Gray being afraid of you only because of the color of your hair had something hilarious.

“Esme too. She told me she’d personally kick me in the balls if her fookin’ baby comes out with white hair. But that woman is batshit crazy anyway. Pretty sure she’ll kick me in the bollocks for free.” He growled, his arms tightening around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Arthur was holding you firmly as if he was afraid you might run away from him after the disastrous encounter with the two Shelby women. After waiting all his life for a woman not to flee from him, he would break into a million pieces if you would do so. Fortunately enough, Ada seemed to like you. She fancied your wit and your curiosity. Most of the afternoon had been spent chatting with her and John under the judging eyes of both Polly and Esme. Usually, people would shut Ada down each time she would talk about politics, especially about her communist ideas, but you did not. Quite the contrary, you listened to her carefully and questioned her with a genuine will to learn — even though you had never been good with politics. At least the conversation had been stimulating. And just like John before, she had also noticed the indescribable care and love with which you blessed her older brother, never controlling him, and always showering him with signs of deep affection. Maybe that was why she did not tease you when she noticed that you and Arthur were holding hands under the table.

As for Finn, he had been too busy staring at Arthur with eyes wide open to even bother interacting with you. He could not believe that you, a tiny young white-haired girl with an angel face, were in love with his violent brother.

“So they think I’m contagious.” You might have been too confident about your ability to remain impassive because you suddenly snorted with laughter as you understood the true nature of their rude behavior. The crystalline laugh that escaped your mouth sounded like the most delicate music to his ears — he would listen to it with delight each time, his sick brain momentarily forgetting the booming canons and cacophony of war. Arthur, relieved by your reaction, allowed himself to chuckle along.

“They do, eh.” He admitted, his lips gently brushing your neck, irremediably attracted by your fragile porcelain flesh. His breath, slow and peaceful, caressed your sensitive skin as he exhaled, sending shivers down your spine. Arthur closed his eyes for a second and let the delightful scents of your perfume intoxicate him. Way stronger than any drugs, your fragrances made his head spin — he was losing touch with reality but, this time, he was more than allowing it to happen. Because instead of being sent into a violent craze, he would drown in a blissful haze.

“You should flee from me, I might infect you too, and you’ll be under my spell.” You teased, your heavy French accent adorning your words.

“I’m already under your spell, love.” His arms freed your waist from their grip only for his strong, calloused hands to run up your sides. How much you enjoyed the sensation of your body flickering under his touch as his soft fingers left trails of fire in their sillage until they finally cupped your small breasts. A blazing desire awoke in your belly and spread like wildfire through every inch of your flesh.

“Arthur — no,” You looked around you to make sure no one had discreetly entered the kitchen.

“Why not say Arthur yes?” He grunted in your ear. His raspy voice caused an earthquake in your whole being — it shook you so strongly that your legs were now trembling, ready to give up under your weight. Your lips parted to say something but words got stuck in your throat as his hips pressed against yours to keep you trapped between the kitchen counter and his tall, lean body.

“I’m serious, we could get caught. And half of your family already distrust me so I’m pretty sure fucking in their kitchen won’t do me good.” You managed to say quickly before biting your lip, trapping its juicy flesh between your teeth.

“It will do good, love. Fookin’… Good…” His thumbs gently rubbed your perky nipples, which were already pointing through the thin white fabric of your dress. A feverish and liquored sigh escaped from his lips, as he started moving his hips against the sinful curve of your butt cheeks, “I crave you so much Heaven, ” he paused his sentence to lay myriads of hungry kisses on your neck, “You make me lose me bloody mind…” An excruciating heat pooled in his body, so insufferable he could have ripped his skin apart. Arthur growled again at the overwhelming sensation of lava flowing through his veins

— “I. Need. Ya.”

You don’t understand. He did not only want you, he needed you.

You were his missing half, and he could only feel complete with you.

You were his light, and he could only find a way out of the darkness if you were here.

You were his saving grace, his redemption.

You were his breath, his blood, his heart.

You. You. You. You.

There was only you.

You could not help but moan in a frail and aroused whine: his hands had left your breasts to travel everywhere they could on your body, almost a bit too eagerly for you to keep up with what was happening. At that point you had to hold onto the counter, nails digging into its worn wood.

“Arthur.” You whispered, eyes closed and head down. As the arousal building within almost suffocated you, Arthur kept invading your pale and fragile flesh with both his daring hands and mouth. You whimpered at the pinching sensation of his teeth that had just bit the base of your neck. You were usually not timid when it came to sex, but not when the family of your man was taking the tea in the room that was right behind the door. But Arthur could not care less about getting caught. All he wanted was a taste of his angel.

He was everywhere — on every inch of your body, his lips kissing and biting. His hands rubbing and grabbing. He was overwhelming your senses with his unquenchable need to touch you again and again. And how good it felt to be desired as he did.

To be desired "À la Folie".

“Say you want me, eh. I wanna hear it.” The gravel in his voice sent tremors in your belly. You exhaled, your breath shaky, for one of his hands had just lifted your dress. Doing so, he disclosed your garters and the beautiful lace panties you were wearing. The fear of getting caught was still pounding in your chest, but the way he touched you was too good to resist. You gave in, ready to pay the consequences.

“I want you Arthur, “ You finally admitted, your lips stretching in a smirk, “ I want you,” You repeated, arching your back and spreading your legs to show how eager you were to feel him inside you, “Only you.” You had uttered the last two words with such tenderness, such a comforting tone, that you felt him smile against your neck. His mustache was tickling you at each word, each movement, which only contributed to the hurricane of sensations and feelings he provoked within your soul. Right next to you, the teapot had started to let out a faint and continuous whistle as the water boiled inside. At one point you were convinced it was not the kettle, but your scorching desire that made such a sound.

With one skillful movement, Arthur’s fingers shifted your soaked panties to the side and he unbuckled his belt with his other hand.

“Please…” You bent over the counter and begged, for the clothes that separated your bodies had become a far too heavy burden to bear. The only moment you felt a twinge of satisfaction was when his hard shaft pressed against your dripping pussy.

“Bloody hell, woman.” He grunted, his voice raspier than it usually was, as your delightful warmth and wetness welcomed him.

Arthur grabbed your hips fiercely and, unable to wait any longer, sunk into you in one slow but determined trust. A gravel moan, far from being discreet, echoed in the kitchen at the dizzying sensation of your warmth swallowing him. Struck by a moment of clarity, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your whimpers of pleasure. Stars dangled behind your closed eyelids, along with the melody of beating hearts and snapping flesh. In that risky situation, you were both well aware it was not time for a languid and intimate moment, but rather for a quick and torrid fuck. Hence, Arthur started to pound you with a fierce and quick pace as soon as you had adjusted to his size. Your legs quivered even more for his cock was thick, so thick your walls were stretched all around him.

“So… Tight…” He stuttered, breathless.

“Oh my — Arthur, Arthur!” You chanted, as a poor sinful soul chanting for God to set her free. The way his name melt on your tongue only made his thrusts rougher, for he loved how it sounded in your mouth. Especially with that adorable French accent of yours. There, with his cock buried deep in your heavenly cunt, he felt like a proud man — not some kind of rabid animal, or a lonely lunatic anymore. He just felt like a good man, giving pleasure to his good and beautiful little wife.

His pulse quickened. His pupils dilated, and you felt him going faster. Muffling your screams, you lost yourself in a fire of lust. You were not you anymore, but a wet mess of desire.

The pleasure you were giving him sent a shot of dopamine through his brain. Arthur threw his head back, grunting louder, and let his whole being sink in the high you were causing him “So — good. Yer so good, Angel. Keep pleasing your ol’ Arthur, will ye?” His hips jerked for he felt his climax coming. Yet, Arthur put his own pleasure on the back burner, refusing to come if you did not. He kept fucking you on the counter and slipped one of his hands between your legs to rub his fingers against your swollen clit. This time it was too much to handle: your walls clenched around him and you froze, all your muscles tensing at once. A cry of release would have echoed in the kitchen if you had not choked it with your hand. A tsunami of pleasure crashed against your bones, leaving you panting and shaking like a leaf, still bent over the kitchen counter with your dress lift and Arthur deep inside you.

As you cum, your glistening love juice dripping along his shaft, Arthur allowed his own pleasure to overflow. He slammed his hips one last time against yours -- his cock throbbed, at the edge of climax. But as much as he wanted to fill you with his semen, he still gathered all his remaining will to pull out in extremis.

You sighed with ecstasy when warm and milky ropes of cum rained down on your ass.

“Aah yes, love.” Arthur’s hoarse moan echoed in the kitchen. How long did you stay there? You could not tell, for you were still dizzy with the orgasm he had just given you. Arthur slowly came back to his senses, the fog of pleasure in his brain evaporating.

"We should get back to the living room, eh."

That was at this moment of intense relaxation, the two of you catching your breath and sharing post-sex smiles, that the door slammed open.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your heart missed a beat. In one movement, Arthur pulled up his pants while you strengthened up and smoothed the folds of your dress before turning to the newcomer.

“Fuck off Tommy. Can’t you knock?!”

“This is no bedroom. I don’t need to knock because I am not supposed to find anyone having sex here.” A freezing and quiet voice, also blessed with a seductive and hoarse tone, retorted.

The infamous Thomas Shelby stood in front of you, arms crossed in his back and cold blue eyes staring at you. If you had the ability to disappear right on the spot you would have used it without hesitation. Yet, you remained silent, slightly hidden behind Arthur who ran his hands through his hair to slick back the rebel strands that had fallen on each side of his face. The older Shelby quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue before talking.

“Erm, can I help ya Tommy?” He asked, still panting from your quick but intense fuck. You took advantage of their conversation to wipe the sweat from your forehead and briefly redo your hair.

“I am afraid you can’t, brother. However, I am pretty sure you charming woman can. I’d like to talk to her if she allows me to.”

You frowned. Why the hell did he want to talk to you in private?

Arthur nodded and wrapped your shoulders with one protective arm, his surprised expression turning into a smile. He could not wait to introduce you to his little brother, filled with pride at the idea of showing him his magnificent woman. It was important to him — even though he would have preferred him not to meet her in these conditions — “Of course, I've been waiting to…”

“Without you.” Tommy cut him off, and his words broke Arthur’s dawning grin. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions you just had, you could not help but open your mouth.

“He’s your older brother. He has every right to remain here while we talk, hasn’t he?” You argued, unhappy with the way Thomas Shelby acted. Arthur had waited the whole afternoon for Tommy to come so that he could introduce you to him, and when his little brother finally ought to show up he sent him off. That was painful to watch, “or if you really want to talk to me in private I think you might ask politely.”

A heavy silence fell in the room. How dare you speak to him with that arrogant tone? He thought. Tommy inhaled through his nose slowly, and moistened his lips, “Well, Arthur would you please leave me and your charming lady alone for two minutes?” He reiterated with a more polite phrasing. In spite of his unshaken placidity, his bleak winter eyes were looking daggers at you. He had certainly killed you at least three times in his mind. Slightly confused, Arthur looked at you, then at Tommy, before nodding, “Right,” he mumbled, his eyes fleeing his brothers’. He kissed your cheek and reluctantly left the kitchen, already aching from your absence.

You sighed, wondering what was going to happen now that you were all alone with the fearless Peaky Blinders’ boss everyone was talking about. Rather than starting the conversation, you took a cigarette from the small silver case that was on the counter and slipped it between your full lips, still swollen from the countless times you had bit them when you and Arthur had sex. Thomas Shelby remained silent too— all he did was walk to you, his soles hammering the floor, and lit up your cigarette with his zippo. But you were not fooled by his gentlemanly appearance nor by his undeniable charm. You took a puff from your cigarette until the tip ignited, and you stepped back from him as quickly as you could. Contrary to what people could think when watching Arthur and you, you did not like people entering your personal space without an invitation.

“I’ll go straight to the point, Miss Lavey. How much do you want?” He asked, his low and quiet voice undisrupted by the slightest emotions. While Arthur was made of fire, Thomas Shelby was surely made of ice.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brows furrowed , for you had not understand what he meant.

“How much money do you want to leave my brother?”

His words were so violent, so unexpected, that you were unsure if he had just slapped you across the face or not. Your mind started to buzz, its gears creaking and tinting as you tried not to burst out in anger at such an indecent suggestion. Against all his expectations, your innocent pout turned to the most freezing expression he had ever seen on a woman.

“To Hell with your money. I don’t know what you're trying to do but I won’t leave him. Why would I, eh?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” He retorted as soon as you had finished your sentence. Thomas quickly rubbed his cigarette on his lower lip and lit it. White smoke came out from his nostrils as he stared at you, like an angry dragon gazing upon the last breath of his future meal. “When I learned for you and Arthur I decided to send some of my guys to investigate on you. They told me every bloody thing,” He emphasized each syllable, almost baring his teeth doing so for you to understand he was not joking — in case you doubt it, “ I know you come from that small town in the French Alps. I know about the witch hunt that took place there and all the women who have been tortured and burned. But more than that, I know that you managed to escape right before they tied you to the pyre. And I also know about the story of the five poor villagers who have been hunted and killed like animals — it was you, right?” Tommy exhaled another cloud of smoke, his eyes never losing their focus on you.

“— And?” You gritted through your teeth, hatred blooming in your heart at the mention of these traumatizing memories. However, you did not let it show, for you knew it would please him. Thomas Shelby was well aware of the threatening aura that emanated from him, and how to use it for his own benefit. If you displayed any sign of fear or anger, it would be over and he would win. And somehow you were not particularly afraid of him.

He might had blood on his hands but you did too.

“And I will not tolerate a witch and a murderer around this family, nor will I let you take advantage of Arthur and ruin him.”

“Now you’re worried for Arthur. Isn’t it a bit too late?” You said, all the traits of your doll-like face suddenly devoid of any emotion, except a slight shade of unsettling arrogance, “You throw away his meds, you send him off when he asks you for help — when he tells you he’s desperate.” You stubbed your cigarette out in the nearest ashtray, “You didn’t even help him when he was ruining himself with cocaine. But that’s not it.” You walk toward Tommy, reducing the distance between you and him with unstoppable steps until you were standing a few inches from him. You raised your head to look at his arctic blue eyes, “He tried to kill himself and all you did was wave it off at best and treat him like a child at worst. Now let me ask you something, Thomas Shelby. Who’s the one who uses his own brother as his combat dog? And who’s the one who closes his eyes on his problems until they are insufferable enough for him to attempt suicide?”

Thomas clenched his jaws, his gaze hardening. He had to admit you had guts for a frail creature he could have broken in half with his bare hands. You were such a small yet fierce woman, it almost unsettled him. Moreover, you were smart, and smart was dangerous.

“So, don’t ever say I am the one who will manipulate and ruin Arthur when you do it on a daily basis. I love your brother, and whether you like it or not I’ll stay by his side.”

He rolled his eyes. The conversation was slowly but surely getting on his nerves, “Listen, I don’t need another Linda. She almost turned him into her dog and yet he was barely half in love with her compared to what he feels for you. Look at him! Look at fucking Arthur Shelby! He would throw himself out of London Bridge if you’d ask him to do so. She already tried to change him and took him away from this family, so don’t think I am naive enough to believe in your so-called love and kindness.”

“I ain’t gonna change shit. I am well aware of his demons, well aware of what he is but that's okay, I accept him the way he is. All I want is to see him healed and happy. No matter if he wants to keep killing people for your business. Sky could break loose I won’t give a damn as long as he feels better.”

Another silence. Thomas was trying hard to decipher your intentions but he could not probe your far-too-unique eyes. His brows furrowed; it was the first instance of emotions you had seen on his face since the beginning of your not-so-cordial conversation.

“You’re a bad omen, Heaven. I can feel it.”

“Why dear? Do you see a sapphire in my eyes?”

A rush of thunderous rage ran through his veins — how could you mention Grace's death? A gleam of violence ignited Thomas's eyes, who suddenly grabbed your throat without any warning sign. His strong and large hand tightened around your fragile neck and pressed against your windpipe enough for you to give you trouble breathing. You tried to talk but nothing came out, words choked under his palm. The pressure was not enough to really choke you, but it was still painful. With eyes wide opened in surprise, you wrapped your own fingers around his wrist and clawed his flesh in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grip, but Thomas did not falter. Quite the contrary, the more you struggled the more he closed his fist around you.

“Don’t ever disrespect Grace anymore!” He gritted through his teeth, “You want to stay by Arthur’s side? Fine. So here's the plan: you’re going to be a good little wife for him and you won’t cause any trouble, nor interfere with my business. You’re going to do the best you could to make him happy and you’ll take care of him. You'll want him even when he’ll go back home wasted, yelling at you and breaking things because he will ultimately do it,” He paused, his eyes falling on the pale flesh of your throat he was still holding. The expression on his face changed for one brief second as he started to caress your neck with his thumb, almost too tenderly to be completely devoided of any kind of attraction, “but let me set this straight: if you ever try to leave him, if you become an inconvenience or if any member of my family is hurt because of your cursed being… I’ll burn you in a field like the witch you are.”

He finally released your throat and looked at the scratches you inflicted on his wrist. As you inhaled loudly, Thomas rolled down the sleeve of his shirt to hide the red and thin cuts your nails had left on his skin. He did not even bother checking on you.

“Let’s go back to the living room. And wear your most beautiful smile.” He stated with his usual cold demeanor, watching you rub your sore throat. Then, he offered you his arm to keep up appearances. You reluctantly accepted and followed him out of the kitchen, still shaken by the conversation —

The whole family, freshly joined by Michael Gray, was chatting together, all scattered here and there in the living room. Arthur, a hip flask filled with whisky in one hand, got up from his chair as soon as he saw you. At first, you thought he suspected something but the truth was that Thomas was insanely clever and he took care not to leave any bruise on your delicate skin. And when it came to hiding things, he was certainly the best. Even better than you. Tommy finally released you from his grip so that you could come back to his older brother, then he poured some whisky into a glass for him.

“Well Arthur, congratulations. You’ve brought a stunning and lovely lady into that house. I guess we could welcome her in the family, since she made our good ol’ Arthur happy, eh.”

He rose his glass to you, his threatening blue eyes staring right at your soul.

“Welcome, Heaven. Hope you'll stay with us for a while.” He said, pretending nothing had happened.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Also, the third first parts of this series can be read as stand-alone but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interest: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid

#arthur shelby #comment rb #HYE squad #little Lora 💚

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eeveefoxling · 4 years ago

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Hi! Just a little reminder that you are a w e s o m e!! And I love youuuu! Have a good day!

💜💛💙❤️💝💗🧡💖🤍🖤💕🤎💚

ily Lora!

#ask #love #Lora Ask

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Little Lora, not gonna lie I’m teary. The fact you’re so invested in this series warms my heart. I am looking forwards to reading your comments. And please don’t ever think I’m annoyed at you telling me you love Heaven and Arthur because I LIVE for this. 🥹 They are in fact so smooth, and so understanding towards each other — Maybe a bit too much. They kinda stir each other’s brutal reactions. I mean, Heaven having a blood kink for her man, you feel there’s definitely a little twisted something in this. But idk, they are just adorable and I’m happy you think that too 😩

In truth, this is an achievement to make a Tommy’s girl being annoyed by him LMAO! I guess it means I’m doing it right. Joke asides, you’ve highlighted something 100% true: his reaction does not only come from his authority over Arthur fading away. One of the many reasons behind this complex hatred is that envy. We have to keep in mind that Arthur introduces Heaven a very short while after Grace’s death. And seeing his brother being sincerely happy with a sincere and mesmerizing young woman kinda enrages him in a “if I can’t be happy I don’t want anyone around me being happy”. Also, he knows the every details of Heaven’s murders contrary to the rest of the family. But once again, there are many reasons. As is the case with John, I love letting readers imagining what they want and you theory is 100% valid. In fact, I fucking love that theory about her reminding him of his mother. 🥰

When it comes to her trauma, this will be deal with in next chapters, you’ll see!

Nowwww me waiting for the new songs:

I don’t know how you do it but your songs suggestions are always so on point. As obvious as Meg’s one was, it fitted perfectly. But I must say that the Jo Stark’s Fire of Love… LORA I AM YELLING. I’ve been listening it on repeat when we were driving in Spain’s badlands today and fuck this is 200% Heaven coded. I’m in awe — thank you so much. I’ve love it sm that it will prolly be used in the fic! You’re an Angel 🥰💚

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: This is when things seem to get better with the Shelby family —at least with Polly— that a drunk client crosses the line with you at the Garrison. Haunted by his past insecurities and his burning jealousy, Arthur snaps. And he snaps very bad. For the first time since you've met, he reveals the beast he hides inside... And Tommy obviously uses the incident to blame you.

Words: 5k

TW: Angst, Obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy, graphic depiction of violence, murder, lot of blood, canonical violence, witch trial, allusions to smut, allusions to blood!kink, Arthur being an emotional and slightly psychotic mess

Notes:

✞ I don't condone Arthur's behavior. Also, keep in mind that Heaven is certainly a bit twisted too.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT

The sound of your heels hammering the cold pavement of Small Heath echoed in the nocturnal streets as you walked to the Garrison. Even though the expansion of the Shelby Company led the family’s interests away from the pub, they still hold the place dear to their hearts and sometimes they liked gathering there for old times' sake. Especially Arthur. Hence, rather than staying at home, reading in front of the fireplace, and dwelling on Polly’s odd behavior at the last family gathering, you decided to occupy your buzzing mind by surprising Arthur at the pub. A raven flew above your head and cawed, its presence stirring interest in you for he had followed you from the moment you had left your house. As you walked to the Garrison, you took a quick glance at the black bird’s silhouette, which was perched on a roof a few houses away.

"Silly boy, want to tell me something?" You told to it, amused. The animal, dressed with dark feathers, replied with another caw. You chuckled and kept walking.

The white dress and fur coat you were wearing contrasted so well with the dull night that the few people you passed were not sure what they had just seen. Indeed, the moon's glow reflected its light on your porcelain skin, adorning your frail body with an almost supernatural aura. That was why some of them thought they had caught sight of an angel, just like Arthur did the first time you and he met.

When the dark wooden door of the Garrison opened, its noise overcoming the laughter, chatting, and sounds of glasses clinking against each other, a soft wave of warmth caressed your cold face. You had barely stepped inside when people almost all turned around, many pairs of eyes weighing on you. Curious and dumbstruck gazes looked at you, wondering what such a holy-looking creature was doing here — but you did not really care. Your petrifying aquamarine iris swept the room to become familiar with the place before you headed to the counter behind which you saw Arthur’s tall frame. The man was back to you, talking with his little boss-brother Thomas. Awesome, you thought, little King Shelby is here. Sarcasm filled your head at the mere sight of him. To be true, you were well aware that Thomas was always doing his best to avoid you, but it did not annoy you. Quite the contrary, you were more than satisfied with never seeing him — you still did not come to terms with him trying to strangle you after all. Nevertheless, you leaned over the counter, arms resting on its varnished wooden surface, and parted your juicy lips to speak.

“Good evening, Mister Shelby. Care to serve me a drink?”

Arthur’s whole being shivered with delight as soon as he recognized the enchanting and oh-so-peculiar tone of your voice — the same voice that had led him to you one bleak and sleepless night. Shaken to the core by your presence, he forgot about Tommy the moment you had started to speak and turned around to face you, the corner of his lips stretching in a genuine and blissed smile. Each time his steel blue eyes fell on you, it was as if God's grace struck him — even though you were living together. The thrills you gave him never left.

“Good evening, love. What is such a delicious little Angel like you doing here? It’s a bad town for such a pretty face ye know.” He almost cooed with his hoarse voice, his hands on the bar and his eyes sparkling with a teasing gleam.

“Fell from the sky and got lost in these streets, so I just followed the light.” Your fingers grazed the back of his hand and went up its skin, leaving pleasant tingles in their trail, until they reached one of the many rings he was wearing. The simple gesture, barely touching him, lit up a blazing fire in his soul. Thomas looked at Arthur and quickly understood that no matter what he would say or do, he held no power over his older brother anymore, “Evening, Tommy.” You said, finally acknowledging him.

“Thomas. It’s Thomas.” He retorted with a voice as cold as an arctic blizzard that could freeze Hell’s inferno itself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and left without any single word, his shadow disappearing in the streets as he left the Garrison, for your sole presence seemed to bother him. Well, at least his opinion about you did not change. However, the lack of peculiar reaction from him reassured you: Polly had not told him what happened to the tea party yet.

“Don’t mind him eh,”

You did not.

“I should probably give you one hell of a strong drink if you fell from Eden… Miss?”

“Heaven Lavey.” You winked, enjoying his silly way of hitting on you as if it was the first time you met, “A glass of red wine would do the trick… And the barman’s heart.” Your teasing grin widened, unveiling perfect white teeth. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils, enraptured by your whole being. From your smile to your bratty pout, you got him on his knees. Each time he would dive his eyes into yours, his heart would quicken in his chest and dopamine would rush through his veins — who would want to keep taking drugs after tasting you? Not even himself. He was already high enough by your presence in his life and God knew he never wanted to sober up from you.

“As you wish.” He leaned over the counter to lay a tender kiss on your forehead. The way his mustache gently tickled your skin made you chuckle. How sweet he was, not afraid to lavish you with sweetness even in front of other people. Then, he gathered all his strength to pull away from you and take care of your order — which was nearly impossible to do, for you were both attracted to each other like two powerful magnets. But still, he did and then poured the finest red wine the Garrison had in a glass before putting it in front of you. Then, he leaned a second time over the counter to bring his face close to yours again, “as for my heart,” he paused, his eyes abandoning yours to drop on your full lips he watched with utmost desire, “You already snatched it, angel.”

“You’re incorrigible, Arthur Shelby.” You could not help but laugh when you noticed that, as you spoke, his focus was still fiercely anchored to your lips. The urge he had to devour them was almost palpable, electrifying the air around him. Yet, you resisted the need to kiss him, rather bringing your small hands to his neck to fix his bow tie with indescribable tenderness. The pair of eyes that were watching you since your arrival could not believe that you had managed to tame the brutal Arthur Shelby — how he behaved with you was so different from the way he was with the others it almost scared them, “I hope you like this little surprise.”

“You can’t imagine how much I do.” He purred, grabbing your hands and putting them on his cheeks. How he loved feeling your cold skin against his. You cupped his face, looking right into his fair eyes with a never-ending love, and he instantly melted. His eyelids half-closed, for you had brought peace to his scorching soul again, “Lemme clean a few things and we’ll go back home eh.”

“Take your time. Je t’attends mon amour — I’ll wait for you my love —“

“Yer comfy here?”

“Arthur,” Your eyes rolled, amused.

“Want a cushion to sit on? Want to wait in a quieter room?”

“That’s okay.”

“Mmm’kay”

You freed his face from your sweet grip, leaving him lingering for more. When he reopened his eyes he could not hold the little growl that escaped his lips for you had not kissed him. He blinked several times, trying to chase away the charm you had cast on him with your sole presence, and reluctantly left you. Stars still danced in front of his eyes because of your intoxicating beauty — so hypnotizing he struggled to come back to what he was doing before.

Waiting did not bother you. In fact, you preferred to wait for hours here, in the comforting warmth of the pub and its hullabaloo, rather than being left alone with your thoughts in the quietness of your house. Sipping on your red wine, you were minding your own business when a man sat next to you, his body collapsing on the stool as if walking had been quite a struggle for him. Which was probably the case considering he was drunk. Only a few people were still at the Garrison, the others went home stumbling or dragged away by a fellow friend. The suffocating smell of whiskey and sweat that was emanating from the newcomer made you wrinkled your nose.

“Hey doll, all alone by yourself? ” The man said, bringing the whiskey glass to his chapped lips to gulp what was left in it. You glanced at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to do any kind of conversation, “Your glass is almost empty. Lemme buy you another one.”

“I really appreciate it but that’s fine.” You answered with a polite smile — but even when doing the bare minimum your angelic traits never failed to captivate your audience. The man noticed your strong accent and saw the opportunity to carry on with the conversation.

“You come from France eh? I fought in France! Bloody hell, still got the mud of this country under my nails!”

Maybe he talked a little bit too loud, or maybe Arthur’s senses were as sharp as a wolf’s, but the fact remains he immediately raised his eyes from what he was doing to watch over you. His steel blue iris shifted their attention from you only to cast their furious fire on the drunk man that was talking to you. His woman.

“You know, I always thought it was kind of sad that all the people here only link France with the war. This is a beautiful country.” You answered, taking another sip of red wine. Somehow, you allowed yourself to talk with the man. At least time would probably fly faster that way.

“If France’s as beautiful as ya, I’ll rush back to it by tomorrow, doll. The name’s Jim.”

You silently replied to him with a light smile, gently shaking your head at the fella’s attempt to compliment you.

You smiled at Jim — And Arthur broke the glass he was holding in his hand. It had been crushed by the pressure with which he had tightened his grip around it until it shattered into bits. Sharp pieces of glass had pierced Arthur’s flesh, blood dripping from his palm, but the tormenting anger that was building within him was so overwhelming he did not even feel the pain. As seconds passed, his face contorted with rage and his eyes darkened with jealousy. You. Smiled. At. Him.

That was definitely not okay — the man did not deserve your blissful smile.

Deafened by the sound of his own heart pounding in his tight chest, Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat in a vain attempt to keep control. To not let his anger issue show. The rational part of his mind was telling him to keep calm, for he knew you loved him and only him. You had told him plenty of times, after all. And he trusted you, really. But the other part, led by his insecurities and his mental instability, whispered foul insinuations to his ear.

Why would she stay with such a criminal like you? You’re sick. You’re old. You’re broken — and no one loves broken men.

You’re stupid, far less clever and charming than Tommy. HE is a real man.

You either scare or repel women. Linda told you. You don’t deserve Heaven.

Useless. So useless… Broken. Crazy, you’re fucking crazy. She’ll see what you are. A monster. Monster. Monster.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as his mind spiraled into a never-ending maze of whipping thoughts and insufferable feelings. Self-loathing was becoming too much to bear — so messy it had started to drown him. He felt his sanity slowly slipping through the cracks of his skull and the only thing he could to do make it stop was to break things. And by things he meant Jim.

“Listen, Jim. I think you should go back home and rest. This is the whiskey talking.” You stated.

“Only if you come home with me, doll.” He ought to say, his grin widening.

Breathless with rage, Arthur felt the heat pooling in his face. A few drops of sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook his wounded hand to clear his flesh from the shards of glass.

“You really should —“

“Come home with me and I’ll make you beg.” He cut off before you had time to turn his invitation down , bringing his hand on one of your thighs to strengthen his point.

Destructive anger flowed through his veins like lava, exploding at the moment the man laid a finger upon you. Agile like a wild cat, Arthur jumped over the counter and rushed toward you, his shoulders tensed and his arms swinging as he walked. Earth shook under his feet, opening the gates of Hell more and more at each of his steps.

“AL-FUCKING-RIGHT THEN,” He blurted out, standing fiercely behind Jim. Arthur’s thundering voice almost made him jump — and it was enough for him to take his hand off your thigh and turned around to meet the Devil’s eyes. You froze on your stool, astounded by your man’s anger.

His face distorted with both fear and confusion at the sight of Arthur Shelby, green with jealousy and maddened with fury, “What the fookin hell did ya say, pal? WHAT THE FOOK DID YOU SAY TO ME WOMAN?” He roared, blue eyes shining with a threatening glow. At this point, Arthur was almost choking with rage.

“Oh my God Arthur, I did not know she was your woman. I’m sorry! I really did not —“ Jim could not finish his sentence for Arthur had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away from you in front of the few last clients' terrified looks.

“You TOUCHED her! You bloody touched her, ME ANGEL. ME HEAVEN. I can’t fucking believe it,” He spat, his words coated with bitter venom. Swirling in the chaotic vortex of his own fury, he did not hear the man’s bargains. And somehow, he did not care. There was nothing he could say to stop him anymore. Jim tried to utter another apology.

He had barely opened his mouth when Arthur’s fist crushed his nose with such a violent blow the sound of broken bones echoed through the Garrison. The man, almost knocked out by the uppercut, crashed on the wooden floor, a jet of blood gushing from his face, “Oi! Thought you fought in France. Come on, bastard! Fight me!” He snarled, teeth bared like a wild animal.

He’s going to kill him. That was what crossed your mind when you came back to your senses, overcoming the shock of seeing Arthur in such a frenzy state. You got up from your stool, “Arthur… Stop it please.” You called him, trying to be as soft as possible not to fan the flames of his anger.

“I AM NOT GONNA STOP!” He barked, looking at you.

He looked at you

and you saw the Hell in his eyes.

“Heard how he dared to talk to ye? Ah, you wanted to make me angel beg eh?” Arthur kneeled over the whimpering man, almost straddling his quivering body, to grab him by the collar of his coat, “Yeah that’s what you said right. But trust me, you sonofabitch, I’m the one who’ll make you beg!” He yelled, sending another powerful blast to the man’s face with his fists as sole weapons, adorned with thick silver rings. “BEG, YOU BASTARD!”

“P-please—“

Another disgusting sound of torn flesh and cracking skull filled the room. “By order —“ A third punch. Breaking teeth. Jim spat three of them at your feet. “Of the —“ Fourth. Fifth. His knuckles bruised and split under the strength of his blows but Arthur could not care less. All he wanted was to reduce Jim’s face to an unidentifiable slop of flesh. “Peaky —“ Dislocated jaw hanging loosely. The horrible sight was accompanied by the cacophony of bloody gurgles. “Fookin — “ Jim had lost count of the punches that rained down on him. All he knew was that his body was giving up. At one point Arthur Shelby had stopped beating him, only to unstrapped the combat knife he kept in his holster, “BLINDERS!”

“ARTHUR NO!!!” Running to the scene and falling on your knees, you managed to grab his hands and keep him from stabbing the drunk man, “Don’t do that, please I need you. Please, please stop it.”

Please.

Your voice, like a light piercing the thick veil of his darkness, snatched him from his murderous craze. Waking up by the smell of blood mixed with your sweet spring-like perfume, Arthur stopped in the midst of what he was doing and realized he was holding a knife above his head, ready to plunge it into a man’s chest. He took a look at you, noticing the shocked expression on your holy face, and all his anger disappeared into a void. His fingers loosened around the knife, which fell on the wooden floor with a metallic noise, “please Arthur, calm down… Call down, Mon amour.” You whispered, begging him with your eyes. Silence fell on the Garrison, as well as in his mind. The maddening voices had stopped and the buzzing hatred had vanished. Arthur left the unconscious man and collapsed in your arms, panting and shaking. Adrenaline made you shiver too, but you gently hugged his frame, one hand stroking his hair, “That’s okay… I’m here …” You repeated just like a healing chant as a few men grabbed the severely injured victim and took him away from the pub.

“I’m … I’m sorry— Heaven, oh my god —“ Arthur stuttered, slowly realizing what he just did. He buried his face in your breasts, for comfort as well as to hide the blood that had splattered on him. He barely dared to hug your frail body for fear of breaking you. Sometimes, he swore he had hell in his hands and he did not want to bring you down in the flames with him.

“Shhhh… Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do it.” You said with a soothing tone. With divine softness, you ran your fingers through his hair, not minding the blood he smeared on your clothes and bosom, “that’s okay, you’re a good boy..” But as you were trying to chase away your man’s demons, a far too familiar voice echoed in the room.

“What the fuck is this mess?!” Thomas Shelby exclaimed for he had just entered the Garrison, John by his side. His freezing blue eyes looked at you from above. The king was here and he hated what he saw.

“John, bring Arthur home. Everyone OUT.”

This was all it took to empty the Garrison from its remaining clients. When John gently put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, Arthur’s embrace tightened around your tiny silhouette for he did not want to leave you. “No,” he managed to beg between two heartbreaking sobs. His face still hidden, not daring to look at you for fear of seeing disgust and anger in your eyes, Arthur refused to let you go. Somehow, he was convinced you would not go back home — why would you after what you had just witnessed? “Don’t take me away from her!” He said, a bit more fiercely, which resulted in John taking a few steps back and looking at you, silently begging you to help him. In the midst of the chaos, only you could bring him back to his senses. A brief sigh escaped from your lips before you gently forced Arthur to look at you.

“Listen, chéri. I need you to go back home and calm down. I’ll be very quick.”

“No, no, you won’t come back.”

“ I’ll do,” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, accidentally smearing more blood on his face doing so, “and when I do, I’ll take care of you alright? I’ll keep you warm and loved.” Punctuating your sentence with affection, you slicked his hair back with a frail but oh-so-loving grin on your face. He finally accepted.

When he left alongside John, your smile vanished and you got up from the floor, legs still slightly shaking. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the pub, towering you with all his height, and looking at you with his cold eyes. His chilling stare followed your movements as you walked to the bar and poured yourself another glass of wine.

“I told you to keep a low profile,” He began. Thomas Shelby’s voice was dressed in an apparent quiet, but something in his tone was threatening — and even though he did not display any sign of emotion, you knew his blood was boiling.

“Oh come on Thomas, all I wanted was to make a surprise to Arthur.” You took a mouthful of wine — the much-needed alcohol calming your anxiety.

Thomas closed his eyes for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his dawning headache, “ A surprise… I hope you like the result then,” He retorted, before shifting his eyes back to you,

“Listen, I know you don’t like me but — ”

“He nearly killed someone for you. What the fuck are you doing to my brother, eh?” Tommy slightly tilted his head to the side, a spark of resentment lightening up his icy iris. You remained silent, still not believing Thomas was really blaming you for Arthur’s outburst. Of course, you had not reacted immediately, but the shock had petrified you for a few long minutes — but was it your fault if he had beaten the man? Certainly not. At this point, Tommy was just lashing out at you for all the issues his family was facing. It was far easier than admitting his own flaws and responsibility. Visibly infuriated by your silence, Tommy walked to you and stopped only a few inches from you, trapping your body between the counter and his own strong frame. He was close — so close your breasts were almost pressed against his chest, “Look me in the eyes when I fucking talk to you, Heaven.” He spat your name with disgust, as if he had just bitten into an apple filled with maggots.

“Get my pretty name out of your mouth,” You looked dagger at him, anger rushing through your veins at such an unwanted proximity. Yet you did not flicker.

“You fucking white Devil,” He hissed through his teeth, his low voice still calm in spite of his blooming hatred, “Are you happy to spread chaos in our life? What do you want from us ey?” He leaned over you, bringing his face closer to yours. With his brows slightly furrowed, Tommy’s sky blue eyes were probing yours, trying to understand the mystery they hid behind their aquamarine wonders, ”What do you want from me?! After Arthur is this me you want to control??” He growled. Your heart raced in your chest — shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps appeared on your porcelain skin, for his unpredictable behavior was starting to worry you.

“I don’t want anything from you Thomas Shelby. Whether you like it or not I’m being honest with your brother. You know Arthur’s emotional, you can’t blame me for that. You take away his meds, turn him into a killer, and now you’re surprised he snaps?? How. Fucking. Unbelievable! Do you know what I think? Well, I think you need me to be your scapegoat . You need to blame me for your sins. For everyone’s sins.”

“Fucking burn in hell,” He spat again but could not find something to retort properly. It seemed like the skies gave you the gift of shutting Thomas Shelby's mouth. Instead, one of his hands grabbed you by the neck and forced your face to get closer to his. His breath fanned over your skin, as burning as a dragon’s fire.

“Be careful with the Rule of Three, Thomas. For each spell you cast always returns to you three times stronger.” You whispered. Then you gathered all your remaining strength to push him away from you, his musky and peculiar perfume almost making your head spin. Not wanting to stay here any longer — and also longing for a hot shower to wash away the blood from your skin —, you headed to the Garrison’s door. Obviously, Tommy’s eyes followed you but he did not say anything, muted by his resentment. Admittedly, he was torn between the urge to bounce on you and the desire to see you leave. You were about to disappear, the cold breeze of the night jumping at your face and rushing into the pub as you opened the wooden door. But your instincts kicked in. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally decided to warn little king Shelby.

“By the way..." You looked at Thomas from above your shoulder.

"You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.”

He froze. Confused and infuriated.

You left. Hurt and bitter.

When you came back home, you crossed your reflection in the corridor’s mirror. Your body refused to work anymore and forced you to stop in front of it. Facing your own person was something you hated. With trembling fingers, you brushed the blood stain Arthur had left on one of your cheeks.

Mom! Mom, no!!

I’ll fucking kill you all!!

You clenched your jaw at the memory it triggered, but still, you kept looking at your tainted ivory skin as if you were slowly learning to come to terms with what you did and what you were. Your fingers trailed down your throat until they grazed the top of your bosom, where the blood had accumulated the most. Another painful memory assaulted your mind, replaying the aching, almost inhuman screams of your little sister when her flesh had been eaten alive by the hungry tongues of the pyre’s flames.

Only God knew how you managed to keep your mind from spiraling into the darkest pits of your trauma, but you did — maybe that was because Arthur needed you. That protective instinct was stronger than your own pain. That was why you tricked your body into moving away from the mirror and went upstairs to take a hot shower before joining your man in bed. John had probably managed to convince him to sleep. Or his body had collapsed on the mattress, exhausted by the energy poured in his latest outburst.

As the running water of the shower was filling the bathroom with its regular and soothing noise, you slowly let your white dress slip along your body until it fell on the floor, as well as your lace panties. You stepped over the pile of clothes and, without waiting any longer, you hopped under the shower and welcomed its warm water with utter joy. A sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you tilted your head back, water hugging your body and raining down on your long white mane that cascaded down your lower back. You almost managed to empty your mind when, suddenly, one gentle calloused hand brushed your hip. Jumping in surprise, you turn around and saw that Arthur had joined you under the shower. His hands, arms, and face were still splattered with half-dried blood he had not cleaned. To be true, he had been too busy curling up on the bedroom floor, panicking about at the idea of you leaving him after what you had witnessed.

“You’re here…” His gravel voice said, water falling on his naked body whose millions of freckles drew magnificent constellations on his skin.

“Told you I’d come back.”

He smiled, softly. His steel blue had stopped avoiding you and was now firmly anchored in yours.

He took a step toward you.

You stepped back in response until your bare body met the cold shower wall.

Your pulse quickened, fascinated by the way Arthur looked. He had something in his eyes — a mix of limerence and pure madness who, combined with the crimson stains on his face, made your legs weak. His breath was slow but yours soon became erratic, even though he had barely touched you yet.

“You ain’t scared, love? Please, tell me you ain’t scared of your Arthur…” He said, his lower lip trembling as his body perfectly interlocked with yours. A small growl escaped from his throat at the intoxicating sensation of yours curves pressed against his skin. But despite his inextinguible desire, he still looked at you with hesitation and genuine guilt — his puppy eyes would surely break anyone’s heart.

“No, I’m not scared,” You replied, not shifting your gaze from him. The corner of your juicy and honey lips stretched in a small grin, “You…” You paused, bringing one hand to his stained cheek, “you look pretty with blood all over your face.”

Arthur’s eyes lightened with both surprise and ravaging desire, for you had witnessed the beast’s violence but still thought he was attractive. A twisted wave of arousal shook you to the core when he bared his teeth in a vaguely dangerous but oh-so-seductive smirk.

“Oh bloody hell, angel…” Not finishing his sentence, his lips captured yours in a fury kiss for he could not wait any longer. The need to possess you, to feel you, was too devastatingly strong to resist. At first, his lustful kiss surprised you, and even though you burnt for him l, a part of you felt it was wrong to feel this kind of twisted attraction. Last thing Arthur needed was someone encouraging his violence — but your brain soon shut down at the thought he did it for you. Only you. Your arms locked up around his neck to deepen the waltz of your tongues, sending fireworks in your loins. It was far than enough to turn Arthur on who, all of sudden, lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, already suffocating with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and the shower’s steam accumulating around you.

As water rained down on your two intertwined bodies, it washed away the blood from your skins. The tainted liquid disappeared down the drain, leaving pale red stains on the bathtub's immaculate marble.

You kissed him harder. Rougher. Until his flesh dived into yours in an explosion of pleasure and shooting stars.

For you had seen the Hell in his eyes, and loved it anyway.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08

#little Lora 💚#comment rb #HYE squad

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Lora, I’m giggling and kicking my feet rn 🥺

I am so so touched you love Arthur and Heaven so much, honestly sometimes I feel like “who cares eh? Pretty sure they have nothing special” so your words brought tears to my eyes. 🥺 I feel you about wanting the same kind of love depicted in this chapter, they are so soft and so in love. Arthur fell, and he fell hard.

Can’t help but smile at your original and clever comment about not trusting John because you are the very first one who mention this possibility — and honestly I completely understand why. John’s flirty nature makes it hard to understand if he’s just playing or if his intentions are darker ( in a “I want her too, fuck the bro code” way). To be true, he has no bad intentions and his genuinely happy for Arthur. Now there’s one thing that is up to the reader: it’s whether John does have a little something for her, or if it’s purely platonic. 🤭

You made me laughed so much at Esme and Pol’s reactions 🤣 Somehow Esme is a bit of a hypocrite, as you said her family cursed the horse. But I think she draws the difference between being able to cast small curses and Heaven, in which she feels a powerful and frightening power. As for Polly, I 100% agree with you!! Her relationship with Arthur is strong, throughout the series you can see how she cares for him. How she is the only one who knows how soft he is inside. Her rude behavior towards even is due to her protective nature: she sees that Arthur is not in love, he’s fucking enamored and obsessed. To the point she’s afraid of the possibility of Heaven toying with him — she knew it would destroy him.

Regarding Heaven’s powers/abilities as well as her trauma with Hughes… I want to spoilt you so bad but Imma just tell you one thing: these mysteries will be unveiled later 🤭

You know that I jump on my phone at each of your song recommendations? Like that’s the first thing I do before answering your comment. Lana’s and Eva’s ones are beautiful — I love the eerie vibes that fit her witch nature ✨ I knew the Massive Attack’s one but wow… it was so good and suits the chapter well! Thank you babe

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Following your encounter with the Shelby family, you try to get accepted but you have no idea how. This is why Ada comes out with a good idea: organizing a tea party in the garden. You accept, hoping things will get better between you and Arthur's family... But it does not go as planned.

featuring John x Platonic!OCReader

Words: 4.3k

TW: Foul language but hey, that's about Peaky Blinders, witchcraft ??

Notes:

✞ This chapter is longer than what I attended to do, so unfortunately I could not follow the poll's result. Hence, here is a quieter chapter but nonetheless tinted with a bit of angst. Moreover, the three next chapters are going to be quite violent and intense so consider this the calm before the storm.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

Afficher davantage

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT

“I don’t like the kids being around her.”

“Come on Esme, she’s not going to eat ‘em eh.” Arthur brought the cup of tea to his mouth and drank it, its sweet flavor melting on his tongue. It was a necessary and momentary relief, which kept him from yelling at his sister-in-law for what she had just said about his sweetheart. She had not stopped making snarky remarks from the day he introduced you to the family. Somehow, it was not about hatred or personal resentment, but rather about fear: she was sincerely scared of you.

After meeting the Shelbys for the first time, you were left utterly confused and did not know what to do. That was when Ada’s idea popped up. She had helped you organize a small tea party in the garden of the house Arthur had brought for you, in order to have a cozy family gathering. Then, John grew fond of the idea. These two surely had adored you as soon as their eyes had fallen on your angelic face. Following the invitations you had sent, Esme and Polly agreed to come to the event even if they did not trust you. More superstitious than the rest of the family, they were genuinely anxious when you were nearby — but family was family, and they did it for Arthur. Concerning Michael and Finn, they were too busy playing tough boys in Small Heath to bother sipping on a cup of tea in a flower garden. And regarding Thomas… Of course, he would not come. His refusal had been quite obvious following your disastrous encounter with little King Shelby, even though he pretended to be far too busy with work to come. His manners were on point, at least when he was not insulting you and grabbing you by the throat. Admittedly, you had been disappointed in the boys’ lack of commitment but you did not let it show. People still came, you thought.

“What if she brings evil spirits upon them?” She insisted, her dark eyes staring at you as if you would kill her children if she dared to shift her eyes from you for one second. Annoyed with her disrespectful claim, Arthur rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose.

“Listen, girl,” He put back his cup on the table a bit more bluntly than he intended to, “if you keep saying dumb shits in my bloody house I’ll kick ya out. Heaven invited ya and y’all talk shit in her back tsk… Damn ungrateful women.”

Esme opened her mouth to say something but she closed it straight away for Polly had rested her hand on her arm to keep her from doing so. The last thing they needed was a quarrel. She finally sighed, admitting her defeat. Then, she went on observing you playing with her four children alongside her husband, John.

“At least she’s not filling your mind with stupid Christian things. “ Polly said, stirring her tea with a little silver spoon. She was observing the liquid with great attention, looking for any sign of poison or suspicious ingredient. Somehow, she feared you had served her some kind of magical potion. Witnessing this circus of a conversation, Ada closed her book and frowned.

“This is ridiculous. You should stop judging her because of stupid rumors. She’s no witch…

Heaven is a delightful woman, clever and polite. Far away from that bitch Linda.” She paused to look at each of the faces around the table, “And if she is, well… She might as well fly on a broom and turn people into frogs I would not mind. I’ve never seen Arthur that happy before, and that’s all that matters.” She argued, her voice filled with determination and her tone highlighted with her natural fury. The Shelby sister sure was a wild and entitled woman.

“Thanks, Ada,” Arthur looked at her with sincere gratitude. He was starting to get tired of the two women’s nonsense and constant judgmental behavior toward his lover. His steel blue eyes abandoned his guests and fell on your graceful body — not interested in anyone but you. Bewitched by the sight, Arthur’s traits relaxed as he observed you running behind Katie in an attempt to catch her, with your dolly face enlightened with a smile so beaming even the sun was green with envy. His heartbeat quickened in his ribcage as seconds passed — the more he stared at you, the more the world around him vanished: you had the gift of making him forget everything. Your wild ivory mane floated at the wind’s discretion, along with the overhanging fabric of the Greek-inspired white dress you were wearing. How he loved to see you covered with the beautiful dresses, fur coats, and jewels he kept buying for you — nothing was too precious nor expensive for his angel.

“You can’t catch me, Heaven!”

“You think so, Katie? I’m coming for you!”

Esme and John’s children had adored you from the minute you met. They seemed to have adopted you into the family, judging by their blooming smiles and their joyful laughter each time you would catch them in your arms. A sudden comforting wave of warmth overcame Arthur’s heart. Seeing you playing with kids definitely did something to him. He tried not to let it show, for you were younger than him and he did not want to put any pressure on your shoulders, but he had always wanted a family. For years he had seen his siblings being blessed with the joy of love and children, to the point he had wondered if his time would come or if he was deemed to live off prostitutes, drugs, and bland momentarily reliefs. Yet the more he watched you with children, the less he could keep domestic thoughts from flooding his brain. How deeply he wanted to put a ring around your finger to make you officially his, and fill your belly with a child. His child. But the truth was he still doubted you truly wanted him, his insecurities whispering to his ear that you’ll wake up one day and see the monster he was. He already could barely believe you wanted to see him every day. Let alone the surprise of you agreeing to live with him, by his side.

“Shit Arthur, it’s getting serious.” Ada teased, smiling behind her cup of tea at his brother’s blissed out expression, “She did cast a spell on you.”

“Oh fook off, Ada. Don’t say that, Polly and Esme are going to believe it.” And he was right, for the two women were now watching Ada with pure terror on their faces, which only made her burst into laughter.

John grabbed you by the wrist, gently forcing you to stop running. You turned around and pout, visibly unhappy of your poor performance.

“Gotcha, little Angel,” He said, one brow raised and his beautiful lips stretching in a wide, cunning smile from which a toothpick was hanging, “Following the rules, you’re excluded from the game.“

“That’s unfair. You cannot hide in a bush and bounce on me, John. This is cheating.” You retorted, pretending to be outraged, but the smirk etched on the corner of your charming lips left no doubt about your amusement.

“I’m a Shelby. Of course I cheat.”

“That’s such a lame excuse,” You said, your sentence punctuated by a thunder of complaints that rose when the kids noticed you had stopped chasing them. All the four Shelby children wished was to keep playing with you, but John wanted to take advantage of this moment to enjoy your company without the protective presence of Arthur towering over him, “And I think the whole team disagrees with your decision.” You added, shrugging, with a false innocent expression on your face, which gave you a bratty look more than anything else. Gosh, John thought, you were a hell of a woman…

“Oi herd, why don’t you play together for a while so that Dad and Heaven can talk eh?”

Another wave of protest, but the focus of the little crowd was soon diverted by a small white bird that had just landed on the handmade birdhouse near them. The children decided they did not want to play Tag Your It anymore, but rather chose to observe the bird from the closest spot as possible. So was kids’ ability to focus, as flickering and ephemeral as a moth. John freed your wrist as they moved away and winked at you. Then, he pulled a silvery cigarette case out of his pants pocket. He gave you one and proceeded to light it up politely. You leaned over his hands until the tip of your cigarette brushed the flame — John’s sky-blue eyes looked at you during the whole moment, his iris shining with a playful gleam. To be honest, he was probably the nicest Shelby of the family, Arthur not included. At least, he was always absolutely caring for you and would never forget to pull you in a bear hug each time you met. Hugs so tight, so comfy that you could almost feel the shattered piece of your heart brought back together. John Shelby had spent countless hours helping you move to your new house, refusing to let you carry heavy furniture and stuff. More than being helpful, he fancied the moments you both spent together. That was why he would sometimes keep you company and teach you some tricks with his personal deck of cards when Arthur was busy working for their boss-brother. In exchange, you would mend his torn shirts after a fight and offer him shelter whenever he and Esme had a heated argument.

“How’s going with Arthur?” He asked, his tongue playing with his toothpick. You let out a cloud of smoke from your juicy lips.

“This is going so well, I can’t believe it. Your brother is so soft, so caring… He’s an Angel.”

“Soft? Caring? Are we really talking about Arthur?” He chuckled, “I mean he used to throw Michael out of the window when he was just a kid.”

“Well, you were there to catch him though. Pretty sure no one did when Arthur would throw you out of that same window. You must have hit your head against the concrete more than once.” You raised a brow, your teeth digging into your cigarette as your smirk widened. Blown away by your quick wit, John shook his head.

“What the hell, I don’t know why Arthur calls you angel. You’re a fucking devil,” He said to tease you. Yet the soft traits of his baby face turned into a more serious expression, “So yer really happy with him? I’m asking because he loves you so much that he would not stand losing you. Hell, he talks about you every fucking minute!”

“Does he?” You said with a softer note in your voice before glancing at Arthur. Your aquamarine eyes met his, for he had not stopped staring at you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, “I’m truly blessed, John. Arthur is — he is unique you know? I can’t find words powerful enough in any language to describe my feelings for him. But trust me, I am a lucky woman. “

Domestic life with Arthur Shelby had a surprising taste of blissful paradise. Obviously, it had its ups and downs, for the path to healing was always a long and somehow troubled one, but you knew what you were stepping into the first time you met — his face was splattered with blood after all. You had been aware of the scorching fits of rage and his past troubles with addictions right from the start. He also told you about the nightmares that would wake him up at night, screaming and panting, and that time he cheated on Linda and cried doing so. Yet, he had promised you to do his best to tame his demons — and when he said “best” he did not lie. Whether covered in blood or not, he often came home right after work, wanting to spend his time with you rather than doing anything else. When he did not it was simply because he was drinking with his brothers. And even wasted, at the edge of the abyss he was so familiar with, he never touched another woman — No matter John’s behaviors and Tommy’s pressure. How could he when the fairest creature of this bloody world was waiting for him at home? Moreover, sex with you outperformed everything he had experienced before. Arthur knew that having you by his side was a miracle, and he was determined not to sabotage it. Because you were everything he needed to survive, and what he had craved all his bastard’s life. Sometimes he would wake up at night, afraid you had been just a dream, and when he would realize you really existed he would pull you in his arms and watch you sleep peacefully, his fingers caressing your porcelain skin until he dozed off. Yes, Arthur Shelby was the most loving and loyal man you ever had.

Maybe that was what made the moments he snapped even more terrifying. But you weren’t scared, for Arthur never laid a finger on you and would never do it. In fact, he was never mad at you, but rather at himself. Or at the rest of the world. But not you — how could he?

He was simply terrified of hurting you. Sometimes he touched you so lightly, afraid to break you… And when his spirits heated and he squeezed you a bit too fiercely, all you had to do was gently remind him to relax and his embrace would loosen.

“But tell me John. Are you really interested in Arthur’s well-being or is it because you’d miss me if I leave?” You joked, taking another puff of your cigarette and shifting your gaze to him. You expected a roast in return but all he gave you was a strange silence. Your smile slowly faded away at his pensive face, the oceans in his eyes lost in thought.

“Yeah,” He said, a bit embarrassed. John swallowed, then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he gently pressed one of his big soft hands on your shoulder in a tender sign of affection, “I’d miss you. I really like you Heaven. You’re good for Arthur. You know when he goes back home after work it’s because he really wants to. Because he misses you so deeply he physically aches. Plus, I really love spending time with you,” He rubbed his nose with the back of his free hand in a nervous reflex, his handsome eyes fleeing yours, “And I’m deeply sorry for my wife’s behavior.”

“Ah,” You waved the topic off, “That’s okay,”

“ Oi! That makes more room for me eh!” He blurted out, an irritating yet adorable playful grin plastered on his face.

“Oh Gosh, what an idiot you are!” You slapped him behind the head, which made him laugh even more, “you have such a punchable face!”

“That’s what my brothers always say, little angel. Find a better roast next time.”

“What do we always say, dumbass?” A hoarse voice asked. Two strong and large hands grabbed you by the waist. Arthur had left the women, who had a heated discussion about politics, for he grew already frustrated not to be with you. His familiar perfume made all your muscles relax as if your instinct linked his presence with undeniable safety — which was the case. To be true, Arthur was not only loving, he was clingy. Adorably clingy. From the day you met — to probably the day death do you part— he constantly felt a deep-rooted need to touch you. On the one hand, he wanted your attention, on the other, he could not get enough of your affection. You let out a soft and amused snort, and you raised one arm to slip your hand in his hair. You almost hear him purr at your touch, his lips against your ear.

“His face is punchable, don’t you think so?”

“Fook yes, it is! It really is.”

“Two against me?! Now who’s the one cheat—“ John could not finish his sentence for he was cut off by the children’s screams. The three of you rushed to the small pack as one to check what had just happened.

When you reached their level, you saw all the children encircling something, their heads down and their eyes looking at one specific spot somewhere in the grass.

“The hell’s wrong with ya kiddos? Ain’t no reason to scream like that!” Arthur complained, his gravel voice tainted with fading worries now that he realized all the kids were safe and sound.

“The bird! It’s the bird, uncle Arthur!” Cried a little boy.

“Dad, dad! What’s wrong with the bird?” Katie asked.

When you came closer, you realized that the children were circling the same bird that had landed on the birdhouse fifteen minutes ago. The poor creature was laying in a bed of green grass, as petrified as a statue. Its small beady eyes were glassy, utterly lifeless. It did not take more than one second for you to understand that it was probably dead.

“That bird’s bloody dead.” Arthur stated. Maybe tactfulness was not his best quality.

“What?! Is it?!” The children spoke as one. A terrified expression veiled their round faces at their uncle’s harsh words.

“Good job Arthur.” John replied, visibly annoyed by the situation.

A soft breeze made the bird’s pale feathers dance in front of your eyes. How come this creature, which was joyfully whistling not so long ago, had stopped living all of sudden? The futility of life would never cease to amaze you… The fact remains that you had to do something, whether it was for John’s children or for the animal itself. Without the slightest word, you kneeled in the grass. Its comforting caress on your skin sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you how you loved taking naps in the forest when you were a kid, back in France. You forced your mind to focus on your task and finally cupped the bird’s body in your cold hands.

“Don’t touch it, love.” Arthur told you. The gravel in his voice was coated with softness and care: he did not want you to catch a disease or something.

“It’s alright.” You answered, absentminded, before standing up on your feet. Your brows slightly furrowed as you observed the dead creature in your hands. There was something about dead birds — something in the way their small black eyes were always wide open as if they had frozen at the sight of Death’s face right before it struck them with its lethal kiss.

Arthur, as well as the rest of the Shelby family, looked at you in confusion. They did not comprehend what you wanted to do with the corpse. You took a quick glance at John’s children and offered them a soft smile, then you looked back at the bird, “You know,” you started, your voice sweet and enchanting, “my mom used to tell me that some birds only have one love during their life,” Your words stirred up curiosity among the young ones, whose faces turned from fear to vivid interest, “they can die from a broken heart. Just like some humans.”

“This is sad. I don’t want the bird to have a broken heart.” One little boy with feckless said.

“It’s true. That’s a sad fact. But … If you give it a bit of love and a lot of hope…” Pausing your sentence, you closed your eyes for one short moment and exhaled loudly. Doing so, you raised your arms with closed hands facing the clear blue sky, “Maybe you can repair what has been broken.” And as you concluded, your sweet words and soft voice hypnotizing your audience, you opened your hands: against all odds and natural laws, the white bird twitched and, all of sudden, flew away in panic as the witching hour struck. White feathers lazily spin to the ground, carried away by the wind and the melody of flapping wings. A peaceful grin grazed your full lips at such a magnificent sound, “See?” You finally said, reopening your Bambi lashes and turning towards the mesmerized kids that were now cheering. However, that dazzling smile of yours quickly faded away at the sight of Esme, Polly, and Ada’s bewildered faces — they had witnessed everything.

“What the bloody hell was that?” John’s voice was merely a whisper. You had resurrected a damn bird. In front of them. No trick, no ruse. You had brought a fucking bird back to fucking life.

You looked at Arthur with a tint of anxiety in your eyes, not understanding if you did something wrong, but all he did was stare at the bird’s silhouette up in the sky with his cold blue eyes.

“Fookin’ hell…”

He could not believe it either.

When Esme had grabbed her children, panic on her face, and left the house slamming the car’s door, you had felt utterly disappointed in yourself. Here we go, you thought, they are all going to hate me. And Arthur’s going to leave. You thought, still standing in the alley with your eyes fixed upon the horizon where she had disappeared. The horror with which she had looked at you was haunting you — were you that monstrous? You blinked and remembered you were not alone. John, Ada, Polly, and Arthur were still there, probably ready to flee too. Your heart ached at the thought, to the point you did not dare move for fear of facing them.

“Angel.” Arthur’s voice called with such a soft and delicate tone no one would have recognized it. You finally turned around slowly, jaw clenched and eyes looking at your feet.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Arthur.” That was all you could say, apologies falling from your quivering lips each time you would part then to speak.

“Hey. Stop that.” He said, a bit more strictly, yet he gently cupped your face with his two rough hands at the same time. The sensation of his warm skin against yours managed to bring back peace in your tormented soul.

“Don’t mind her — Yer fucking perfect. Yes, you are, and I don’t want ya to think you’re not.”

“I should not have done that. Maybe that wasn’t what you thought, maybe the bird was just playing dead and…”

“I love ya and I’m not gonna leave if that’s what yer scared of. That’s okay, love.” He said, pressing his forehead against yours in that so specific habit of his, “Just don't cry please, I hate to see you cry.” Lavishing you with sweetness, Arthur left little reassuring pecks on your lips for it was the only thing he could do to keep the tears away from your eyes.

How much he hated to see you in pain. It made him want to bend the skies and raise hell. Made him want to destroy everything that had hurt you.

Fortunately for him, your hard heart did not let you shred a single tear. You felt wounded and frustrated, simple as that.

“Don’t worry, Mon amour.” You finally say, taking a deep breath. You were about to give him a little smile, eyes lost in Arthur’s blue iris when Polly literally pushed him away from you with quite a surprising strength. She had snatched your man from your arms with such fierceness that you stood still, eyes wide open, unable to move.

“HELL, POL’! BLOODY FOOKIN’ FAMILY!” Now he was yelling — roaring like a wounded and enraged lion.

“Shut up Arthur!” She snapped back without looking at him, before grabbing your shoulders with her two frail hands. You were once again astounded by her strength now that she was holding you firmly.

At such a sight, Arthur’s protective instincts kicked in. He was about to place himself in front of you to face Polly Gray, within an inch of tackling his own Aunt, when John and Ada grasped each one of his arms to hold him back.

“You have brought it to life, haven’t you?” She questioned, her brows slightly furrowed and her brown eyes trying to probe the meanders of your soul. It was more than enough for you, who came to the edge of your patience. You exhaled slowly and swallowed.

“Why do you want to know? Gonna hang me high? Gonna burn me?!”

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” Arthur roared in the background.

“You did it!” She blurted out.

You did not reply, rather leaving her to draw her own conclusions.

“You did it.” She repeated with a surprisingly softer voice.

And everything changed.

Her face. The spark in her eyes. Her whole attitude. Polly’s hands loosened their grip but remain on your shoulders. The coldness of her face melted in a brief proud smile, whose rarity rendered it even more inestimable. Polly’s mouth opened to say something but it took a little while, for she was still trying to find the right words. And when she did, she said something to you in Romani. Something you could not understand, even though the tone of this unknown language sounded beautifully in your ears. The meaning behind her words remained a mystery — all you knew was that what she said had surprised Arthur and John, who were both now looking at their Aunt with lips slightly opened. Confused, your gaze shifted to Ada — and contrary to her brothers, a magnificent smile was adorning her face.

Polly gave your shoulders a last gentle squeeze before releasing you from her embrace and pointing Arthur out.

“You better keep this one.” She simply stated, then she headed back to the garden.

You blinked, still utterly confused by Polly’s behavior, “what did she say?” You turned to the three Shelby siblings but especially asked Arthur. However, he struggled to produce a proper answer. He opened his mouth but Ada cut him off right before he could speak.

“Miracle.” She stated.

“She said you’re a miracle.”

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins (tagging u honey because it’s bby Arthur)

#little Lora 💚#comment rb #HYE squad #she’s Arthur and Heaven defender

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Oh no poor Lora, it goes to the point h already bothered tou just by being mentioned! 🤣 This is Tommy every time he appears to ruin Arthur and Heaven’s happiness:

Regarding the nickname little king Shelby, first of all I’m delighted you find it funny because I think it suits him well. And second: she also calls it little king Shelby because he’s short! 🤣🤣 Which is ironic because she’s so small

The bath scene is adorable isn’t it? I really wanted to picture the peacefulness and comfort they find in each other, while comparing it to his past life of excesses. I’m so delighted it made your heart melt, because it’s indeed our baby Siamese!Arthur getting head scratches 😽 did you listen to the French version? This is really “uh lala” teehee. Also, bashful and nervous Arthur is the cutest. They both deserve happiness… But of couuuurse Tommy wrecked it all.

AH THANKS LORA! I 100% agree with you with your opinion about the curse being real. Even if I appreciated the little supernatural touches from here and there I’m the show, I hated when they decided it was true. Honestly, Tommy’s guilt was an excellent aspect of his character. That’s why I wanted to explore that — Heaven did launch a torpedo at his face but she was right.

Regarding the cliffhanger… I am really sorry for your little French murder bean Lora 🥲 Hope you will forget me when reading next chapter? *hides*

Admittedly I’ve never listened to Harry Stiles except for the song Kiwi… But oh gosh I liked these three! You’re so right, it’s really Arthur talking about his little Angel!!! 💚

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: With the Russians gone and Father Hughes dead, you and Arthur can enjoy some romantic moments together, including a proposal. After talking about your future, you both decide to leave Birmingham to build a family away from Small Heath's filth. But that dawning happiness is soon wrecked by Thomas and his plans.

Words: 6k

TW: tooth-rotting fluff, like really sweet moments, angst, quick allusion to smut, typical canon violence, mention of death penalty, allusions to death by hanging

Notes:

✞ This chapter signs the start of season 4 and, consequently, the end of the first Act of Heaven in Your Eyes. Following this chapter, there will be a two-week pause for the series. Also, parts borrowed from the show are italicized.

✞ The song Heaven sings is a French cover of Bad Guy. You can just click on the French lyrics to open the song and listen to it.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

Arthur let out a long sigh of relief escape from his lips as his body slipped a bit more into the hot and soapy water of the bathtub. The smell of body soap, whose fragrances were those of honey and vanilla, wrapped his mind in a sweet haze. But those pleasant scents were nothing compared to the perfume of your skin his senses could recognize even hidden behind the synthetic ones. Following the last violent and chaotic events of the past few days, this moment of pure relaxation felt like a delightful reward. Everything had happened so fast, in a matter of three days, that none of you really had time to process everything. At least, the worst was behind you.

The oldest Shelby brother was lying in the hot water, his back resting against the bath tube’s edge and your tiny frame snuggled in his arms. You were locked in a tight embrace, with your legs entangled and your bodies firmly pressed against each other. The smile that was etched on your juicy lips widened as the melody of his soft sighs and the water’s lapping lulled you to drowsiness. He looked down to observe you and his mind drifted away. The last time he was in a bathtub with a woman — or with two, to be true — Arthur was snorting a ridiculously dangerous amount of snow and drowning his pain in meaningless sex. It was right after the Peaky Blinders had taken over the Eden’s Club by Tommy’s orders. At this period of his life, Arthur was at his worst and he was still very much ashamed of his past conduct. All he wanted to do back then was to sabotage himself. And yet, here he was, two years later, in the bathroom of his little house — and not in some shady London clubs —, with God’s favorite seraph all nestled in his arms. He had come far. A comforting wave of warmth spread in his soul as he watched you, his heart filled with both pride and ecstasy. Arthur, more than anyone else, was aware of how lucky he was to have you. For sure he strongly believed he did not deserve your love, but if there was one thing he knew it was that he would never let you go. Never. His long fingers softly moved aside one wet strand of your ivory hair, slipping it behind your ear. As he did, he could not help but smile. Life finally made sense to him when he looked at you, half asleep in that bathtub. The truth was, he would go through everything again — the war, the pain, the suicide attempt, the hell of addictions, and the catastrophic wedding — just to hold you like this. Wet lips tasting like honey and whisky gently shook you off your torpor with enamored pecks they sprinkled all over your face. First, it was the corner of your mouth, then your cheeks, and, finally, your forehead. You lifted your heavy lids and looked up only to be welcomed by his ravishing grin and his piercing blue eyes. Those damn eyes you’d die for.

“Yer a cute sleepyhead, eh.”

“Mmm.” You mumbled, slowly emerging from your sweet drowsiness, “It’s your fault.” You teased with a sleepy voice before gently nibbling his earlobe. The light pressure of your teeth on his flesh caused him to groan in pleasure. His grip strengthened on you, long fingers digging a bit more into your porcelain skin.

“My fault?” He raised a brow all the while rubbing his clean-shaven cheek against yours in a sign of both affection and arousal.

“You did not let me sleep that much the past few days.” You replied with a gleam of amusement in your eyes. As an answer, Arthur’s hoarse laugh rose up to the ceiling.

“Can't keep my hands off you eh,” He said with a lower voice before rubbing your nose with his in an adorable bunny kiss. His soft facial hair tickled your skin, causing you to laugh with him, “the urge to make love to you is too fookin irresistible… Ye make me lose me fookin’ mind,” He growled in your ear. You low-key trapped your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt one of his calloused hands trailing up your ribs with a caress as soft as a feather “And speaking about makin’ love…”

“Lord, are you even tired?” A gentle chuckle escaped from your lips. Before he could even react, you stopped him in his tracks and swiftly shifted your body until you sat on his hips and faced him. He looked at you with desire blazing in his eyes and smirked, his mustache slightly lifting as did.

“Not with you all naked in front of me, love.” Arthur brought his face closer, but all his lips met was your index finger you had slipped on your mouth to keep him from kissing you.

“I had something else in mind, chéri.”

“Come on, lemme kiss you…” He complained, the tip of his tongue gently licking your finger in a teasing way. The wet caress sent shivers down your spine but even though you really wanted him, you did not give in to his lust.

“No.” You replied, your smile turning into a sharp grin.

He was about to protest a bit more vividly when you slipped your small hands in his hair and started to massage his head.

“What are you—“ Arthur opened his eyes wide for a few seconds at the unexpected sensation of your fingertips exerting the perfect pressure on his scalp. And then, the whole traits of his face relaxed in an adorable expression, “Oh. Fuuuck—“ He sighed in ecstasy. Shut off by your touch, Arthur squeezed his lids and slightly parted his lips. Enjoying the way he reacted to your touch, you looked at him with a playful smile but what you saw instead almost break your heart. The expression on his face was indescribable — he looked like a beaten dog who had just discovered what tenderness was after a life of abuse and violence. Arthur let out a shaky moan as he gave in under your fingers like a wounded animal finally finding both the comfort and help it needed for years.

Your softness. Your love. Your patience... It all felt so good he could have cried.

Feeling him shivering, you deepened the massage and did your best to relax his poor exhausted body. Indeed, you poured all your love into each of your gestures, hoping your sweetness would sip through the crack of his mind and heal his deepest wounds. And as Arthur melt in your hands, the enchanting melody of your voice filled the room and sent him to paradise.

“Tachée de sang ou d’autre chose, Caché, tu rodes et moi je n’ose Parler, on mets la nuit sur pause Tu te prends pour un autre Des bleus partout sur mes genoux Tais-toi c'est moi qui tient ton cou Cette fois je fais ce que je veux J'ai l'âme coupée en deux.”

His breath slowed down at your hypnotic voice whose tone, feathery and supernatural, hold him in a blissful trance. Curiously enough, the fact he did not understand French only enhanced the impression he was listening to an otherworldly chant. Arthur buried his face in your bosom, his whole being reacting to your voice with goosebumps and shivers. Every synapse of his brain recalled the first time he had heard you sing in this church, lost in the middle of the night.

“Toi t'es un gars dur, tu aime avoir l'air sûr Bien blindée ton armure et défoncer des murs Moi je fais peur à ta mère, à tes sœurs J'ai ton père dans l'viseur Et ta go veut que j'meurs Je suis le méchant.”

Your fingers continued their work, massaging his head and petting his wet hair with utter tenderness, all the while you kept singing. You sang and Arthur healed. A smile appeared through dawning tears he was fighting hard against, for he was convinced he just found gold and even a few stars in your voice.

After the romantic bath, both of you reluctantly left the comforting warmth of each other to dress for the last family reunion. In fact, now that Tommy and Tatiana’s business came to a satisfying end for the two parties, he had organized one ultimate meeting with the Shelbys to give the money he owed them. He, as well as the rest of the Shelby/Gray house, was well aware that Arthur and you took the decision to leave Birmingham to pursue a quieter life. Surprisingly enough, the idea came from Arthur. He had told you about how he would love to open a garage and fix cars, while you had shared with him your inner desire to live near a forest to remind you of the luxuriant nature of your childhood town. Somehow, the smog of Birmingham never made you feel at home. Nevertheless, none of you wanted to do something without the other’s approbation. You were more than decided to face life as you had always done since you met: together, as a unique and vibrating soul. Yet, contrary to Linda, you had reassured him about the family business. In fact, you made clear that you would stick around if he wanted to. In no way you wished to interfere between your man and his family, as long as the risks for him remain tolerable. But Arthur felt the protective need to take you away from Small Heath’s filth. Moreover, he wished to leave his murderous past behind him and focus on the future — a future that was made of you, a house in the forest, and a little mix of both of you running barefoot in the grass.

You let out a cloud of smoke escaping from your lips. Quietly smoking in the garden of Tommy’s magnificent mansion, you looked at the guests coming and entering the house without wasting the slightest minute. They were all eager to retrieve their due and leave. You could have done the same, but you wanted to enjoy the pleasant and soothing feeling of sun rays caressing your frozen skin before locking yourself up in a room with Tommy Shelby and his never-ending speeches. The sound of a car engine made you look to your right: Polly had just arrived with Michael. The poor lad was still under the shock of Father Hughes’ death by his own hands but did his best not to let it show. However, no one could hide something from the witch you were. You took one quick look at Michael and knew something was off. The tiny flame that was burning in his blue eyes when he first came to Birmingham was now extinguished, blown away by the poison of guilt now running through his veins.

Pol greeted you with a warm smile as she passed by you. She was delighted by your presence, and even more by the fact Arthur and you were about to leave the town. She, as well as John, could only thank you for the good you brought upon the oldest Shelby. Regarding Michael, he only nodded to acknowledge your presence before disappearing into the mansion.

“Aunt Heaven!” A little girl, as beautiful as a rose and with a smile as beaming as the sun itself, suddenly rushed to you. Her little feet were hammering the gravel track, ejecting tiny pebbles each time they hit the ground. You stubbed out your cigarette on a small decorative wall and opened your arms to catch Katie, ready to get tackled with her hug. She snuggled against you as soon as she reached you, “Dad says you’re going to leave. Is it true? Can’t you stay? I really don’t want you to leave you know. Who’s gonna play with me now?”

You chuckled, trying to make sense of Katie’s speech because she had talked in such a chaotic and quick pace you had barely understood one word out of two, “I’m not going that far kitty-Kat, you know,” You leaned over her to lay a sweet kiss on her forehead. She reacted with a silky pout.

“But you’re leaving me!”

“Would you forgive me if I braid your hair?”

“Ohhh yess! Yours are always so beautiful — just like my doll!”

“Aw thank you, kitty Kat.” You put your hands on her shoulders and made her turn around to start braiding her hair with your skillful fingers. It was something you had always liked to do to your little sister, back in France. After her death, you kept doing so on yourself as a way to keep her alive. Since then, your long white hair were more than often adorned with a huge variety of braids. “We‘ll still see each other. And you’ll spend some holidays with Uncle Arthur and me, right? So that I could teach you to bake delicious pastries for your family.”

“For my family? No way, I’ll learn only to make myself pastries and eat them in front of my stupid brothers! Serves them right to break my pony figure!” The little one blurted out with genuine mischief, letting you rearrange her blonde hair in one long French braid.

“You’re absolutely right. Oh wait… Stay still, kitty. Can’t braid your hair if ya keep moving like that.” You advised with a caring and patient tone.

Katie tried to remain quiet, but her wonderful children's mind was buzzing with so many thoughts at once it took only five seconds for her to bombard you with questions again. God knew how she managed to stay more or less still despite her overflooding energy. “Dad says living in the countryside is good for babies. Are you and Uncle Arthur going to have a baby?” She asked out of the blue. You snort with amusement at her vivacity. Kids and their tact, you thought.

“I’d love to,”

“When?” She straight off replied.

“That’s quite a difficult thing to know, darling… Let’s just wait for it to happen,” Your fingers were braiding the last strands of hair, “Almost done,” you said — to be true you were quite proud of the result. Even though Katie was such a beautiful little girl you were not sure if the braid embellished her or if it was the other way round.

“But you are a witch. You know everything. That’s what Dad says.”

“Seems like your Dad doesn’t know how it works.”

“And how does it—“

“Katie? Come here, sweetie. Charlies’ nanny is waiting for you!” Esme’s voice called.

It was all it took for Katie to hug you tight, thank you for the braid, and rush toward her mother. Taking into account the importance of this last meeting, Thomas had asked the household staff to take care of the children and not let them interrupt the adults. You looked at Katie’s little swift silhouette disappearing with the nanny with tenderness in your aquamarine eyes. For sure, you were going to miss John and his kids.

When she left, your eyes instinctively searched for Arthur. He had just finished talking with John, who had followed his wife inside not without giving you a wink. You would have chuckled at John’s charming and teasing demeanor if you had not noticed a tint of nervousness in Arthur’s body language. Indeed, he was standing in front of the massive door, playing with his fingers and taking repeated quick glances at you before looking at his own feet, all bashful and hesitant. Your protective instincts kicked in, wondering what was wrong. Finally, he made his way to you with his adorable awkward walk and his arms swinging.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your brows slightly furrowed as you tried to understand the reason behind his anxiety. Once he had reached you, he grabbed your hips to pull you closer.

“Yeah I’m good, me mind was just — Y’know, just thinking about far too many things at once,” He had barely finished his sentence when he fell silent.

“Arthur?”

Arthur’s gaze dived into yours, his steel-blue eyes observing the slightest variations of your irises with a deep focus as if he wished to grasp all the secrets God hid beneath them. He could have stayed like this forever, losing himself in the vastness of the frosted desert that composed your alluring eyes. Yet, he was snatched from his contemplation by the soft sensation of your fingers grazing his cheek.

“What’s the matter, mon amour?” You reiterated, genuinely worried.

The wind blew in the garden, making your wild ivory mane dance behind you along with the petals of the flowers that were surrounding your frames. Arthur remained silent and kept staring at you — and as he did, your ethereal beauty mesmerized him and he felt his hesitation vanishing in stardust.

“Listen angel, I gotta tell ye something. I’ve been thinking about the whole matter for a while, and tried my best not to make things go too fast...”, The gravel in his voice was coated with palpable nervousness. Arthur paused, at the edge of freaking out, but rather took another deep breath. He hated himself for struggling so much to express himself. That was why his strong hands abandoned your hips and cupped your face in his slightly moist palms, “It’s just that… I can’t wait any longer.” That being said, the tall gangster laid a shy kiss on your juicy lips —contrasting so much with the way he usually devoured them in bed— and to your greatest surprise, took a few steps back right after.

You blinked in confusion, not quite following what he was trying to say, nor what he wanted to do “What do you mean?” You asked, your body yearning for his touch when he backed off.

Arthur parted his lips to say something but, once again, he could not find the right words to share his overwhelming feelings. Instead, he decided to go for it. With one trembling hand, he took a little something out of his pocket.

“Heaven — I know I am not the most handsome lad in town,” He started, nervously tightening his fist around the object he was holding in his palm, “nor the most mentally stable man you have probably met. To be true, I am quite pathetic… A fookin trash. Can’t believe you accept me as I am” Arthur looked at the ground for a few seconds, ashamed of his whole being. “You’re a young and stunning little lady, and I am an old and broken dog eh,” He sniffed, trying to keep composure, “But I’m a good man, I really am. And that good man wants to be a good husband for you.”

Husband. It echoed in your soul, resonating in your skull. Was it really happening? It could not be what you were thinking about, right? You swallowed the lump in your throat, hung onto his every move and word.

“I am not perfect — to be true I’ll probably go back home drunk as fook sometimes and fall on my knees, begging you to save me. Cause you’re the only one that can do that, eh” He chuckled nervously and dived into your eyes. This time he managed to keep eye contact. “but I swear to God I’ll do my best to take care of you and make you the happiest,” Joining actions to his words, Arthur’s free hand took yours. His other one, shaking with anticipation and fear of rejection, processed to slowly slip a shiny gold ring around your finger. Your heart imploded in your tight chest as the cold metal touched your skin, “I don’t want another woman ever again — there’s just you. Only you. So I might not be the best, but you can be sure I’ll remain faithful to you, my Angel… And if you ever doubt my loyalty, I’ll build a fookin’ altar to your beauty and pray on my knees,” He freed your hand from his to let you admire the magnificent ring that was now adorning it.

You lowered your gaze toward the precious jewel and your whole body shook at the sight of the ring. It was really happening.

“Heaven Lavey… “ He cleared his throat, “Would you marry me?”

“Bloody Hell, Arthur.” You swore, unable to choke your reaction. All your life you told yourself no one would ever want the cursed witch you were. Let alone the murder charges against you. You have walked through this existence all alone, convinced it would never change. Yet you found him — a man who was not only in love with you but who literally worshipped you like a goddess. You looked at Arthur’s face again, your angelic face covered by a veil of utter surprise. You stood silent for a few moments which felt like an eternity to Arthur. His anxiety escalated for he could not survive without you. And when he said that he meant it: your mouth held the power to destroy him with one simple word… “ Of course, I want to marry you,” You finally said as you broke the distance between you with determined steps and almost jumped at his neck to pull him in a furiously enraptured embrace, “No matter what awaits me in this life, good or bad, I don’t want it if you’re not by my side, Arthur Shelby. You make me feel safe. You make me feel… Holy. And I’m not used to that.”

“Christ!” He exclaimed, unable to hold his joy any longer, “Come here Miss Shelby!” His hoarse and loud voice boomed in the garden. Not minding the rest of the world, Arthur’s arms wrapped around your waist right before he lifted you from the ground. Laughter escaped from your full lips, as well as tears of happiness breaking at the corner of your eyes, “My Angel, come with me to this meeting — not as me lover but as me fiancee.”

Your feet met the ground again but your heart was still floating.

“That’s fine with me.” You replied. Bringing your fingers to your eyes, you quickly wiped the tears away, taking care not to ruin your makeup. When your hand fell back against your hips, Arthur’s slipped his in yours and entangled your fingers together. You exchanged one last look, filled with undying love and hope for the future, before sinking deep into the corridors of the mansion. Here you both walked, unknowingly leaving the eye of the storm.

Not the slightest word came from your tantalizing mouth during the whole reunion. Thomas’ cold demeanor and the few arguments here and there managed to severely undermine the exhilarating joy Arthur’s proposal had brought to you. With one look, you both silently decided to wait for another moment to announce your wedding. As you observe little King Shelby distributing money, his temper short and fallible, a sudden unpleasant feeling broke through your core. It was similar to what you had felt when you had sensed something was going to happen to Charlie, except that the feeling was so intense this time it almost took your breath away. Not understanding where did this sudden unease come from, you clenched your fingers on your own seat and tried to calm down by focusing on Thomas’ speech. However, his words were soon covered by the thundering sound of your beating heart, whose pace had quickened so brutally that your whole ribcage was shaking at each pulse.

Something was wrong. Definitely wrong.

Fortunately enough, Pol’s last interjection about a different future for the Shelby company marked the end of that tense family reunion. Following a brief silence, you got up from your chair and put your left hand on one of Arthur’s shoulders. You were about to discreetly ask if you could leave but words remained stuck in your throat: the truth was you did not want to rob him of his family goodbye. So, you simply gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before stepping back and waiting, even though the unexplainable urge to get out of this house worsened as minutes passed.

“I’ll be off then, Tom.” He sniffed, “I’ll see you, eh? I’ll see you brother.”

The humble farewell, sober like the rest of the Shelby’s way to show affection toward each other, pinched your heart. No matter the problems in which they got themselves or the endless arguments, there was love in this family. Broken, awkward, and sometimes violent love, but still. You quietly made your goodbyes too in the background — A nod of the head for Finn, Michael, Esmee, and uncle Charlie. A hug for Ada, Polly, Lizzie, and Curly. You thought you could handle it well until it came to John. Your eyes met his saddened pout, and your self-control break down. A single tear rolled down your cheek for the deep bond you had formed with him rendered the farewell more painful than with the other family members. Without uttering a single word, John pulled you in a bear hug so tight the pressure he exerted on your body was almost uncomfortable, but you could not care less. You gently rub his broad back with your hands and, when the moment to pull away happened, you laid a long kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll miss you, little Angel.”

“We’ll see each other. I promise.”

The last thing you did was look away and do your best not to meet his gaze because you know you would probably burst into tears if you did. John religiously followed the same rules, otherwise, he would take you in his arms again and never let you go. Fortunately enough, Arthur’s hand grabbed yours. The warm contact of his skin against yours sent a wave of comfort through your bones — but if it was enough to heal the pain of leaving, it was not to soothe the odd anxiety that was still creeping in your soul. The same anxiety that was screaming at you to leave this damn mansion right now.

You grabbed the door handle, half reassured by your imminent departure when Tommy’s voice echoed through the office with the violence of a guillotine’s blade on a prisoner’s neck.

“You can go, but you won’t get far, Arthur.”

You froze, your heart missing a beat. In a protective reflex, you turned your head in one vivid movement and looked dagger at Tommy. If your jewel-like eyes could shoot bullets, Thomas Shelby would be lying in a pool of blood, dead and cold. What the hell would he make such a snarky remark to his brother? But the more you stared at him, the more the weight of your unease crushed you.

Something was happening, you could feel it. Something awful.

“Ah. All right, Tom.” Arthur, not grasping the meaning behind Tommy’s words, brushed off the comment. You were both about to leave the room when another statement clipped your wings.

“I spoke to Moss last night. He told me that the Chief Constable of Birmingham has issued a warrant for your arrest. Murder, sedition, conspiracy to cause explosion.”

The shocking news crossed your body like a lightning bolt burning every inch of your flesh on its way. Stomach twisting, muscle tensing, you brought your hand to your open mouth to cover it. Arthur blinked in surprise — he had to lean against you for his long legs threatened to collapse at any moment. His whole body started to shake as he realize the awful truth: they were coming to take him away.

And just like a rain of deadly shooting stars, came the long list of accusations against the rest of the family members, all uttered with a cold and placid tone as if Thomas Shelby was reciting a lesson. Your head brutally spun. You felt nauseous.

“Wait a minute.” Arthur’s gruff voice exclaimed, filled with confusion and boiling anger, ��What the hell you’re talking…” He commented, his hand still in yours though it was the only thing that could ground him — which was the case.

“And you Heaven… “

You just stared at Tommy with eyes wide open, while the whole world crumbled apart around you. Contrary to Arthur, you did not even shake. Nor you did burst into anger. You were just here, paralyzed by the sound of your dreams and hopes shattering like glass smashed on concrete.

“For the involvement in Hughes’ death and the murder of Simon Conrad, his fellow friend.”

You let go off Arthur’s hand and took a few steps back, until your back hit the wall behind you, “You’ve sold us…” Your voice was merely a whisper. Your heart skipped another beat in your chest, running a race against the panic that was crashing against you like a rogue wave on a boat’s hull. The only thing that kept you anchored to reality was Arthur’s mad screams.

“You’re my brother!”

“Listen to me, I have made a deal — “

“They’ll hang us!!”

“In return for giving evidence against them.”

“We’ll fucking hang!”

And then it happened. You snapped out of your lethargic state, brushing off the petrifying anxiety that had turned you to stone. You broke free from the shock and ignited like hellfire. With furious steps, you rushed to the two brothers and pointed to Tommy with one finger, “Toi, espèce de sale traitre -you damn traitor-,” You started in French. Tommy’s empty eyes fell on your tiny frame, doing their best to hide his emotions. The truth was he perfectly understood what you had just said, “Your own fucking family… You know what?” Your face distorted with disgust, “It was not the sapphire Thomas. It was you. It was you all along.” You spat.

Despite Thomas’ neutral demeanor, the flames that lit up his frozen irises left no doubt about the impact of your words. You had hurt him — not only him but his very own soul, to the point you could almost see the ice of his eyes melting.

“Come here, come here!” Arthur’s powerful hands grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to follow him, “Come on now, we have to run!” The oldest took one last look at his brother, pain, and rage making his steel-blue eyes glisten, “FUCK YOU!” He roared, hitting the door with the palm of his hand.

Indistinct Screaming. Yelling. Chaos.

You had barely exited the office when a police officer grabbed you and shoved you against the nearest wall. Your hand lost its grip on Arthur and, without his contact, frost settled in your heart

“Arthur!” You screamed. Or at least you thought you did.

“DON’T TOUCH HER! Heaven!”

Brutally squeezed between the wall and the officer’s body, you still extended one of your arms in a desperate attempt to reach Arthur but it was in vain. When the policeman noticed it, he twisted your wrist behind your back. A whimper of pain escaped from your lips. What happened next you could not tell, for the chaos that swallowed you made everything fade to black. All you could grasp was the sensation of the handcuff metal, as shiny as the golden ring around your finger, biting your skin, and the sound of Arthur’s screams in the faraway distance.

They said until Death do us part, but you had not expected it that soon.

“Careful with this one. She’s put two of my guards into hospital. That bitch’s fucking feral.”

“That’s okay.” A feminine voice replied to the police officer in charge of your cell’s security.

The sound of the lock echoed in your small cage, soon followed by the metallic creaking of the heavy door that was keeping you from escaping. When the woman entered the cell, she could not help but frown and look at his colleague with genuine confusion. Police Officer Katlyn Wilson, a tall blonde woman with her hair cut short and her face as hard as her heart, had seen a lot throughout her career. But it is evident she did not expect what was awaiting for her in this cell: right in the middle of the room sat a young woman, in her mid-twenties, on the bed. She had a long white mane that cascaded down her lower back. A marvelous mane, dirtied by the cell’s dust and dampness. Kat Wilson shook her head: you could not be the dangerous inmate they called her for. She sighed, staring at your juvenile face.

“Heaven Lavey.”

You raised your head when she called your name, your aquamarine eyes burning with hatred. Yet, not the slightest sound came out of your mouth. All you did was stare at the officer.

“I am Kat Wilson, and I am here to bring you to the gallows by order of the crown.”

“They took my wedding ring.” You cut her off, your voice sounding a bit raspy after days of not talking. Somehow, you did not care about getting hung high — you were not afraid of death. What scared you though was to be alone, far away from Arthur.

“They did. They told me that was the reason behind your assault on the guards.”

“Only one of them. The other tried to touch me.”

“So you broke his wrist.” She replied straight away.

You fell back into silence, not wanting to talk about the mentioned incident. Officer Kat Wilson shook her head, astounded by the whole situation. As fierce as she was, she took no pleasure in sending a young girl to the rope, no matter the first-degree murder accusations. The tall blonde woman, whose severe traits inspired a natural authority, walk to the bed and sat next to you despite his colleague’s warning. She let out a long sigh and took off a little golden ring from the pocket of her jacket. Your face enlightened when you recognized the jewel.

“Unfortunately, my power vanishes at this prison’s gates. I cannot stop this execution, but I can give back the young bride’s ring.” As she talked, she put the ring in the palm of your hand and watched you close your grip around it.

“Fine.” You finally whispered as you slipped the jewel around your finger. What else could you do except obey? Any attempt of rebellion would result in failure. You got up from the bed, standing on your bare feet with all your little height.

So petite but so fierce, she thought.

“Fine,” Officer Wilson repeated. Gathering all her strength, she handcuffed you with your hands behind your back and, with one unexpectedly strong grip, led you out of the cell and forced you to walk through the long, dark corridors of the prison.

The sound of the guards’ boots resonated against the stone walls, contrasting with your own silent steps. Even if your heart raced in your chest, you managed to stay calm. Deprived of your man’s comfort, you tried to find your peace in small details:, the cold and smooth surface of the wood under your bare feet, the faint summer breeze coming from an opened window somewhere, the muffled sound of birds' whistles... All of these allowed you to keep a semblance of sanity.

Kat Wilson brought you to the gallows, which was in a dark wooden warehouse. You swallowed at the sight of the noose, slowly swinging from left to right as if every fiber of the rope itself shivered with impatience at the idea of tightening around your soft throat.

You climbed the stairs and each step felt like you were dancing tango on your broken dreams. The dull silence that was hovering above the warehouse was chilling, but you preferred it to the vain prayers of priests. No matter how hard they begged God, you knew your place was down there. Dying was bothering enough, there was no need to sprinkle the process with hypocrisy. A muffled cries came from the other room — they were going to hang another woman at the same time.

Polly, you thought.

When they put the deadly necklace of rope around your neck and narrowed it until its burning texture bit your skin, you inhaled deeply through your nostrils and stared right at Kate Wilson’s eyes. Here you stand, powerful even in your last moments.

Boom. Boom.

The deafening sound of your beating heart played the drums of the fanfare that was already announcing your arrival in Hell.

“Go ahead.” You closed your eyes.

You did not cry. You did not beg.

After all, it was always meant to end like this.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Gif by the lovely @alicent-targaryen

✞ Each of chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone even though it's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @abyssal-whispers

#little lora 💚#You’re now Lora Shelby #because Arthur and Heaven has adopted you #comment rb #HYE squad

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Welcome back, my sweet Lora. 😁

This was definitely the last assaulted against his woman he could tolerate, Arthur just had to snap at one point and knowing Heaven put herself in danger because of the family made him bonkers. It’s true that Arthur’s tantrum are terrifying, even for his own family, so I hope I’ve managed to portray it properly teehee!

THANKS FOR HIGHLIGHTING MICHAEL. The TV show waved off the topic so fast I could not help but roll my eyes. That’s why Iwanted to write that it still devours him up to this day. Revenge did not soothe his wound, even if as you said there wasn’t therapy for male victims at that time. It’s something that Heaven can relate too, and her empathy for Michael strengthens Polly’s trust in her. Now Aunt Pol is definitely in her side. Mystic girls for the win ✨

“Arthur’s back is a tortilla” okay, I’ve read so much I nearly choked because, it’s so true??? He has so many freckles, it’s adorable.

Aaahhh Ive impatiently waited for you to read her crimes and her background story. She is extremely dangerous and no one can guess when looking at her. Because, as you’ve mentioned, she’s not only frail-looking but she is gentle. I’ve always thought that a character did not need to be h24 unhinged and mean to be considered violent. Quite the contrary. So yeah, gentle angels for some, destructive monster for the others I guess. 😬

For the music selection, I knew Desire by Meg Ryan but completely forgot about this song existing. The lyrics, the mood, EVERYTHING is perfect for Heaven and Arthur 🥵 Same for Heaven by the Neighborhood. This one I didn’t know because it’s not a band I usually listen to but woooow I loved it. For Stayin up, this is such a sad ode to trauma. Completely goes with Michael and Heaven! Thank you so much, right they go to my playlist! Thank you so much babe 😬💚

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Following the event of the kidnapping of his son, Thomas and the rest of the family learn you have killed a man. Confused and in a state of shock, the Shelbys debate whether or not they should accept you. But while they are debating, you are falling into a pit of anxiety. Now, it's Arthur's time to be there for you.

Words: 6K

TW: Light angst, canonical description of violence, mention of child abuse, smut, unprotected sex, mention of death and torture, trauma talk, fluff, hurt/comfort

Notes:

✞ Admittedly this part is longer than what I planned to do but it has plenty of essential moments and discussions. The next chapter wont be that long. As for the smut part, it is quite long too but it does have a purpose in the story. You can skip it if you want but you'll miss information.

✞ This chapter is complementary to the one-shot From Blood We'll Grow (but no need to read it)

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

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Thomas Shelby was leaning against the kitchen counter, cigarette hanging in his lips and piercing blue eyes focused on the needle of the pocket watch he was holding in his hand. It would not be long before Arthur and John would come back, consequently he did his best to enjoy the precious quietness of the house before some family chaos. He put the watch back in the pocket of his vest and took a quick look at Polly, Ada, and Michael, who had no other choice but to wait with him. When Tommy demanded a family reunion, every one of them knew they better not missed it. The two women were sitting at the table, a smoking hot cup of tea in their hands. Polly’s dark irises were staring at an invisible spot on the wall in front of her as she lost herself in the meanders of her own thoughts. Contrary to her aunt, Ada could not stay still. She was nervously moving her leg, eyes shifting between her big brother, the clock on the wall, and her own hands.

“Where’s she?!” Arthur’s voice suddenly roared in the kitchen, alongside the loud bang the door made when he almost burst it open.

Here we go, Tommy thought even though his face remain placid. Knowing Charlie was safe at home had extinguished his anger.

“Is she okay?” John asked, sincerely worried for you. As time passed, he had grown fond of your presence more and more. He was out of breath for he had been running behind his oldest brother, trying to catch up with him. When he entered the kitchen, less than one minute after Arthur, he had leaned against one chair with his hands and tried his best not to spit his burning lungs out.

“Calm down, Arthur.” Tommy issued with a neutral voice, looking at Arthur’s face which was distorted with both worry and rage.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Tom! Where the FOOK is she?” At first, Tommy thought his brother was just agitated, but when he saw Arthur coming at him with teeth bared and darkened eyes he understood it was not a simple tantrum. It was fury — the same fury that had pushed him to almost killed the man who had tried to murder Thomas at the horse race, to the point they had to choke him until he almost blacked out just to calm him. Tommy did not falter though and remained motionless.

Witnessing how enraged the oldest sibling was, Polly got up from her chair and grabbed him by the arm.

“She’s fine! I’ve taken care of her myself. She is fine.” Polly repeated louder, hoping her words would overcome her nephew’s terrifying fit. She had barely finished her sentence when Arthur turned his head to her in one vivid movement and growled like an animal. However, his facial expression relaxed a little despite his brows still furrowed and his eyes shooting bullets at everyone he was looking at. Anger was boiling in his veins, fueling his heart that was pumping to the rhythm of his growing anxiety. Breath hitching, teeth still slightly bared, Polly knew his nephew could snap at any moment. She knew he was like a jerrican of gasoline, whose slightest spark could turn into a destructive wildfire, “Arthur, please. She needs you lucid,” She paused and gently tightened her hands around his arm, “She just needs you.”

Arthur closed his eyes for a few seconds and inhaled. The gulp of fresh air managed to set his ideas straight — or was it simply because your well-being was more significant than anything else in the world? When he reopened his lids, he gathered all his strength to remain in control of his wild spirit. Another growl escaped from his lips.

“Where is she ?” These were the only words he could utter. Polly took a quick glance at Tommy and sighed. The whole family knew that Arthur, as stubborn as a dog refusing to give its stick, would not let it go. He would remain deaf to any of their explanations as long as he was not informed where his angel was.

“I’ve brought her to your house. I’ve helped her clean the blood from her skin. She was curled up in your bed when I left. See? She’s at home, safe and sound.”

“Hm.” He mumbled with his jaw clenched, right before starting to pace back and forth in the room like a caged lion under Tommy’s undisrupted eyes. The latter cleared his voice to get everyone’s attention.

“I want to know what happened in every detail. Michael?” Tommy’s voice was collected. So controlled and cold his breath almost turned the whole room into a castle of ice and frost. Michael shook his head. The latest events were still stuck on replay in his troubled mind: the sensation of Hughes's skin against his hands made him nauseous each time he thought about it. Even though he took the life of the monster who had robbed him of his innocence, the threatening shadow of the priest still floated above him, waiting for Michael to fall asleep to fill his nightmare with unspeakable and excruciating memories. Hughes was gone, but the wounds were still there, vey much opened. He lowered his head, unable to bear the weight of the family’s eyes staring at him.

“I’ve killed Hughes,” He started his left hand nervously scratching the back of his right one until his skin turned red, “I wanted to grab Charles and bring him home but he was not in there. That’s when I heard a kid screaming and a big thud. When I entered the other room Heaven was—“ He stopped, for he felt the burn of the ravaging fire that was blazing in Arthur’s eyes. The unspoken threat was clear enough for him to understand: he better be careful with the next words that were about to come from his mouth if he did not want the beast to tear him apart.

“She was?” Tommy’s authoritative and slightly impatient tone captured his attention again.

“She was covered with blood, Charles in her arms. She had killed the man who wanted to hurt your son by stabbing him with a pair of scissors. If Heaven had not been there, Hughes’ colleague would have shot me and Charlie down. I saw a gun a few inches from the corpse.”

No one dared to speak now that the facts had been spit, leaving no doubt on your implication in the whole mission. Tommy brought his hands to his face and rubbed it in an attempt to process all the information he had just learned. A part of him could not believe it: how could you so easily kill a man who was almost twice your height and weight? After all, you were such a frail and small creature he had trouble imagining you going feral and butchering someone with the sole strength of your tiny hands. Yet, he knew about the dead you left on your trail when you left France. Five men, his informants told him. Five men were found dead in the forest surrounding the village. The authorities who had reported the crime called it “inhumane”. When Tommy read the case file, his jaw almost dropped at the description of the bodies — these men had not only been murdered, they had been hunted down like animals. While he first doubt the veracity of the reports, today’s events made him realize they were not exaggerated. You were dangerous. As dangerous as unpredictable. And Tommy hated what he could not predict nor control.

“Heaven… killed him?” Arthur asked, thus breaking the silence. He had frozen, turned to an ice statue by Michael’s words. He could not believe it either. How could you, his sweet and holy angel, do such a thing? He swallowed, left utterly speechless and confused.

“She did!” Michael insisted when he saw the doubt on Arthur’s face. Then, he turned to Tommy once again, “I’d be fucking dead if she hadn’t been there. And Charles too.”

Tommy let out a loud sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to kill his dawning headache.

“There was so much blood on her Tommy.”

So much blood, Arthur thought. His mind drifted away from the conversation as he tried to recreate the scene in his head. He imagined you, entering the office bathed in the pale moonlight, crimson ink bringing a frightening touch of color to your snow-white hair and skin. It felt surreal — and exciting.

“I’ve told you she was a fucking curse but no one listened to me. What am I supposed to do for people to fucking listen to me eh? Hear me Arthur?” Tommy’s chilling gaze looked upon his oldest brother.

“You know what? Fuck you, Tom. I’m done.” Arthur’s gruff voice was underlined with an unexpected and astounding calm. He had reached his breaking point, “What are ye gonna do now, eh? Wait, lemme guess. You’re gonna come at me and stand with your bossy demeanor, telling me I need to leave me angel because she’s some kind of psychotic freak to you. Then you’re gonna pat my back and tell me to forget her and that I’ll find a better woman. Maybe buy me a whore. Yes, that sounds like Tommy Shelby.” Arthur shook his head, a sarcastic chuckle coming from his lips, “You tried to make me suspect her, eh. Can't fucking believe it.” He chuckled again, far more nervously this time. “Wanna pull everyone down in your fall, that's what you want. If you can’t be happy no one around you shall be, right?“

“You don’t seem to realize what she did. And she told me to keep an eye on my son. Everyone would have suspected her.” Tommy retorted, blizzard coating his words.

“But she saved him.” Everyone turned to Polly, whose remark caused Thomas Shelby to grit his teeth. The unpleasant truth felt like nails scratching a board. Except the board was his own bones and the nails his Aunt’s words.

“She risked her own life to save your son even though you had insulted her.”

“Polly, I do like her. But I understand Tommy. She killed someone. You get it? This is not a trivial way to resolve a problem.” Ada intervened, her fingers tapping the varnished wood of the table.

“That’s what we always do, Ada. That’s what I did too.” Polly spoke with indisputable sorrow in her voice, “Whether you like it or not this company’s license is written in blood, and its foundations are made with dead bodies. We are all standing on an empire of silent hearts and maimed flesh.” A fresh nightly breeze went through the open window, caressing Polly’s face and making her short curly hair dance in the wind. The power of her soliloquy tamed Ada’s fierce spirit, “Arthur and John have been killing for this family for years. I murdered Campbell. Regarding Michael — Michael put Hughes down. And you, Tommy, when did you lose count of the men you put to sleep?”

“Fucking right.” Arthur mumbled.

Thomas looked at his aunt with a neutral face, the only detail that betrayed him was the spark of interest shining in his piercing blue eyes.

“Think ‘bout it Tommy. She foresaw Charles’ abduction. And when her powers reached her limits, she had not been afraid to dive her own hands in shit to help us. Don’t you think she has proven her loyalty to this family?”

“She isn’t loyal to us, she is to Arthur.” He corrected.

“It makes little to no difference,” Arthur responded, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, then.” Tommy cut them all off, clapping his hands to close the debate. He had heard enough, “Since we all have different opinions about Arthur’s angel — the sarcasm in his voice was undeniable — we’re going to vote. Arthur?”

“A vote? ‘Bout me bloody life decisions? Go to Hell, Tom!” He roared in response, driven crazy by the fact you were all alone at home, aching and terrified, and that he was not here for you, “She’s the woman I’ll marry. The other half of my soul. You can go all fook off if you don’t accept her in the family.”

“Predictable. Ada?”

“I don’t know. She had been quite extreme and Finn is scared of her. “

“Gonna take this for a negative answer along with Finn’s opinion. I already know Esme’s thoughts on the topic so there are three people opposed to her joining this family and one rooting for it. John?”

John remained silent for a while, his sky-blue eyes staring at Tommy with palpable irritation, “How can you all even discuss the topic? She has done more to take care of Arthur than anyone here in this room.” He walked to his oldest brother and put one hand on his shoulder as a sign of support, “I like her, and she deserves a place in this fucking family, even though she'll soon understand she ain't the curse but this family name is.”

“Michael?” Tommy went on, unmoved.

“I did not really care until now. Don’t really trust the girl but she saved me so… “

“I’ll take that as a yes. And Polly?”

“I know I haven’t been easy with her but it was because I could not sense her intentions. I was afraid she would bring evil forces upon us but she has the gift of healing. My grandmother used to have it, you know, and it runs only through the veins of exceptionally gifted witches. She could be useful, you know. We could benefits from her powers. And tonight…” She took a deep breath, “She saved my son.” The way to a mother’s heart often was her children, and Polly Gray was no exception.

“Three against four. Seems like this whole debate is over, Tom. Now I think I’ve been patient enough with your bullshit. Stop wasting my time while my place is beside her.” Arthur took one last look at his family, fury blazing in his eyes, and left the house, making the whole building shake when he slammed the door close.

“Heaven!”

When Arthur stormed into your bedroom, he was welcomed with the sight of your quivering silhouette standing in front of the window and hugging itself. It felt like a stab in his heart as he was reminded that you had to face the latest events all alone. Worst than this, one of the last things he had expressed to you was a slight doubt about your involvement in Charles’ kidnapping. He had not only been absent, he had also been awful, and God knew how ashamed it made him feel.

“Are you okay?” It did not take more than one second for Arthur to rush toward you and cup your face between his large hands, “Fookin’ hell, angel I’m so so sorry!”

You did not reply but instead stared at his guilty blue eyes with an unfathomable expression on your face. Your silence convinced him you were mad at him.

“They told me what happened and — “

Arthur could not finish his sentence, for your small and cold fists grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in a ferocious kiss. Your lips crashed against his like a rogue wave breaking on the shore and destroying everything in his path.

You pulled away from the kiss, leaving his mouth hanging a few inches from yours.

Arthur, running out of breath, did not move except for his steel blue eyes that looked down at your body. You were wearing nothing but his white shirt adorned with stripes. The garment covered you down your thighs for it was far too large for your tiny being. “Christ,” He whispered to himself, struck by how the vision of you wearing his shirt as only clothes turned him on. His whiskey breath melted with yours, almost intoxicating you in the process as if you had drunk the whole bottle by yourself. But it was not alcohol that was making your head spin, but the instant relief the eldest Shelby gave you by his sole presence. Arthur’s tongue grazed your swollen lips with its tip, desperately hungry for more. He had been waiting to come back to you for countless hours, your face haunting his mind even when he had sent men to Hell in one big explosion. “Kiss me again, please.” He said in a soft but slightly impatient voice. He needed you to kiss him again. He needed to feel you did not hate him for doubting, nor for not having been there to protect you.

But you did not bless him with a second kiss despite the undeniable supplications in his fair eyes and the caress his feverish sighs left on your skin. You stood still, your irises firmly anchored in his for what seemed to be an eternity. Your lips remained sealed but one crystal tear rolled down your cheek.

“Hey. I’m here, love. I'm so sorry for everything you had to do…” Arthur said softly when he noticed you were crying.

No reply came from your tantalizing mouth. You kept staring at him, battling against the flood of emotions that was invading you now that your mind slowly but surely came to realize what happened last night. The blood — there had been so much blood.

“Heaven, talk to me.” He pressed one of his hands on your cheek, the cold silver of his rings alleviating your panic. And then it happened. You snapped out of your torpor all of a sudden and pushed him onto the bed. Arthur’s body fell on the soft mattress, leaving him both speechless and surprised by such unexpected reaction. Eyes wide opened, lips parted, he wondered what would you do such a thing. Did you — reject him?

“I need to forget this awful night.” Your voice was merely a whisper, but the power your words held shook him to his very soul. It was not anger nor resentment that coated your tone but lust. Without shifting your eyes from him, you brought your hands to the large shirt you were wearing and undid the first button, “I have to get it out of my goddamn head.” The way your French accent melted on your words like butter got him all fuzzy and weak.

“You sure, love?” He asked still surprised, taking a deep inhale through his nostrils.

“You have to erase it from my mind.” Your sentence broke up his core.

Arthur bit the flesh of his lower lip in anticipation as he understood what you wanted from him. Somehow, he got it: the blood, the adrenaline, the thrill of the kill… You had to find a way to release the tension. That was what he did with you in the shower last time he bashed someone’s head with his bare fists. Not only he got it, but he was ready to be your cure. His pale irises devoured your silhouette, desire burning within as you started to strip in front of him. You popped the second button with your frail fingers — and he flickered like a candle flame. Arthur’s fists closed on the bedsheet as frustration grew stronger at your languorous movements… And yet, that was the most exquisite form of torture he had ever experienced. He grunted, almost like an animal. If he had genuinely enjoyed the sight of you wearing his shirt, all he wanted now was to tear that bloody thing off you and exposed your naked body for him to see. When you finally popped the last button, a shiver of desire ran down his spine as if someone had just brushed him with the sharp tip of a knife.

The shirt was now open, showcasing more of your appetizing porcelain flesh. With one languid gesture, you let it fall on the floor and disclosed your whole being to Arthur’s starving eyes. The way the pale light of the sun coming through the window’s blinds drew patterns on your silky skin captivated him.

“Oh fuck — love,” His gruff voice said, carried away with a moan. The sensual sight made his whole body react, to the point he was now feeling far too tight in his trousers, and that was getting uncomfortable. Usually, he would not have waited so long for touching you, but today he could not help but admire your wildness. Petrified by a far too eery arousal, Arthur had the impression invisible ropes were wrapped around his body and pinned him to the mattress. He could not move and barely breathe. All he was able to do was to watch you with complete fascination. What stirred such a dizzying and strong effect was not only your angelic beauty, but also the dangerous energy that was radiating off you. This, combined with the few dried blood stains that were still adorning your skin from here and there left him feral. You stepped towards the bed, your hips swinging to the rhythm of your graceful walk. Arthur, hypnotized, swallowed the lump in his throat, his mouth dry and his heart racing in his chest. You hopped on the mattress and straddled him. How could such a tiny creature like you hold so much power? He thought. Hell, he could have broken your frail bones so easily with his own hands but here you were, riding him. You. The sweet angel he had met at church.

But you had a twisted something.

And it made him fall even harder.

A twisted something Linda never had nor understood.

Arthur inhaled sharply and growled, realizing you had literally taken his breath away.

“I want you. ” You said with teary eyes.

“So what are you waiting for, love?” His words managed to reach his mouth despite the awe you instilled in him. As he said so, your hands boldly began to explore his chest. The friction of your palms and his shirt’s fabric against his skin unleashed a wave of warmth within. Arthur shivered and watched you, still enraptured, while he let you take control of him. To hell with Tommy’s doubts and the family’s fear, you could pull his strings he would not mind as long as you belonged to him. After you had opened his shirt and exposed his chest, scattered with millions of freckles you often liked to kiss, your fingers made their way down his boiling skin and left frost in their wake. Another gruff moan — you were giving him fever.

Once you reached his waist, you took his suspenders off and threw them somewhere in the bedroom. Arthur replied to your boldness by grabbing your hips with his large and calloused hands — scarred from murder — and by giving them a bruising squeeze. That simple touch, combined with the feeling of his hard shaft pressing between your legs, sent surges of electricity through your entire being.

“Let your man take care of you, eh,” The gravel in his voice made your cheeks burn. He wiped your golden tears with his thumb— as beautiful as they were, he just hated to see them on your pretty face. Somehow, Arthur was well aware he was a high-maintenance man and he could not thank you enough for everything you were doing for him. How many times Linda had told him he wasn’t worth her help? He wasn’t worth saving? He had lost count after a while, but you never did. Unable to wait any longer for your bodies to unite, he then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, those noises bringing goosebumps all over your skin, “there, love.” He softly uttered before pulling his pants down just enough to free his erection. You moved your hips in response, guiding his cock between your wet folds without further ado. Welcomed by your wet warmth, he let out a long sigh of pure delight. Nothing could have prepared him to the all-consuming, almost suffocating desire you stirred in him. Sometimes he wondered if you had cast a spell on him, for no other woman had such an irresistible effect upon him. Each time you touched him, even for the simplest and most innocent interaction, desire and love hit him like a bullet.

“Arthur…” You sighed, as he started to roll his hips under you and push against your entrance with the glistening head of his cock. It was too much for him to wait anymore: all he wanted now was to dive into your flesh and conquer the wild territory of your soul. You gritted your teeth, almost hissing with excitation at the hurricane of sensations that was tearing you apart. You could not wait either, because he was the one who could fill the void. That excruciating and gaping void, as painful as a sucking wound, that had first opened a few years ago when you killed these five men. Oh, don’t get it wrong, they deserved it as much as the priest, but it had left you empty since then— so empty it hurt. But Arthur found you one night, and everything changed. You were his savior, but he was your cure.

“Look at me, Heaven. “ He said, his tone candy-coated with tenderness, for you had lowered your gaze ashamed of your tears. You obeyed and dared to look, your aquamarine eyes shining like precious stones. “The first night you saw me killed a man you told me I was pretty with blood all over my face. I could not fookin’ believe it,” He left his sentence hanging and pushed inside you, his thick cock stretching your walls. You moaned, throwing your head back and closing your eyes at the delightful mix of pain and pleasure.

“Arthur!” You whined, a louder lament escaping from your quivering lips, “I— I remember… ” You managed to answer between two sighs. Speaking became a real struggle as he worked you open, causing heat to pool in your abdomen and blood to rush to your pale cheeks. Arthur gave another thrust, and another, until your hips met and every last inch of his cock was buried deep inside you. Fire spread within his soul and yours when you finally made one — like you were meant to be. “Arthur!“ You repeated in a desperate cry, glistening love juice dripping from your pussy as he started with a quick pace from the get-go. You took a sudden deep breath and opened your eyes wide as if you had suddenly come back to life — because that was the kind of effect he had on you: he made you feel alive. With each push and pull of his cock, he fogged your mind and let you forget all the bad memories.

“F-Fuck!“ Sucking in a sharp breath, he shattered at the way you chanted his name. Head spinning, heart drumming, Arthur could not help but enjoy your beauty — How magnificent you were with your back arching and blissed out. “Well, I see you right now, and lemme tell you…” He panted, forced to make short pauses between his words to let out hoarse growls of pleasure, “You don’t look pretty,” He straightened back up to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapped your waist with his long arms while his hips kept fucking you in a rough pace. The corner of his lips curled in a fierce grin now that he could watch the emotions on your face from far closer, “You look divine with blood stains all over you and my dick deep inside that tight holy pussy of yours.” His words, carried by the gravel of his voice, chased away the sorrow and brought a smile to your swollen lips. As a reply, you kissed him with hunger. Dancing tongues left him breathless, “And now I’m gonna fuck away the pain and fill you with something else than sadness…” He whispered against your mouth before abandoning it only to lay a myriad of enamored kisses on your throat. The way his mustache tickled your skin only strengthened the coiling tension that had formed a knot in your stomach. “Tonight, I’m the one who saves you, angel.”

His thrusts grew faster and rougher as he spoke. To the point you were now bouncing on his lap, the sound of snapping flesh echoing in the whole bedroom alongside your erratic breath, his hoarse moans, and your enchanting cries of pleasure. You felt full and he did his best to keep you so. In fact, he barely pulled his hips back — rather wanting to remain as deep as he could in your oh-so tight pussy, “You’re a good girl, yes you are. The prettiest little murderous thing ever created eh. The fookin’ perfection …” He purred in your neck, and each of his praises made your very soul quiver. His pace soon became frenzied, for he could barely contain himself at the delightful feeling of your fragile walls pulsing all around his cock and the way you almost growled like an animal when he left small bites on your skin. Pleasure was escalating, rattling your bones so violently your nails dug into the freckled skin of his back. Little crimson drops of blood beaded from the kitten scratches your nails left in their wake. The pleasant pain caused him to give you one meaner thrust in response along with a snarl — Fuck, he liked it. His cock twitched inside you, feeling climax building. Clenching his jaws, Arthur reopened his eyes he had closed a few seconds, backed up a little bit from your neck, and stared at you. Yes, he wanted to watch you. His steel blue eyes burnt with a gleam of madness and blazing love, “You’re so fookin’ beautiful eh. Me little angel. Me future wife.” The spectacle of you bouncing on his lap, covered with a thin layer of sweat glistening on your porcelain skin, and your wild ivory mane all messed up was the most magnificent view he had ever seen. Arthur dived one last time inside of you, all the muscles of his body tensing, and he fell apart. He spilled himself in your pussy with a long raspy moan, his half-closed eyes staring at you during his whole orgasm.

“Please don’t stop, don’t stop!” You yelled.

“Such a hungry little angel, eh. Yell louder.” He teased, still high from his little death. His hips jerked, and he released another rope of thick cum, “Come for your Arthur.”

The sensation of his warm semen filling you was the end of you. Your pleasure finally reached its peak as well. Your thighs trembled on either side of Arthur as his hips slowly roll to accompany your climax. Almost blacking out because of the intensity of your orgasm, you let out one final scream and collapsed in his arms, your body limp. Arthur’s hands gently stroked your back. You hugged him tighter in reply, your breasts crushed against his chest, and stars still dancing behind your eyelids. Locked up in a tight embrace, you were both catching your breath and savoring this moment of pure tenderness. How long did you stay here, firmly gripping each other, sweaty and panting, as if your life depended on it? None of you could tell, for you had both lost the notion of time. After a while, Arthur’s back fell on the mattress again and he pulled you with him. You put your head on his chest, closed your eyes, and smiled.

“Feels better, love?” He inquired, concerned about your well-being. His long fingers grazed your back in a lovely caress. Despite you having both come, Arthur stayed deep inside you for he just loved the sensation of your two bodies making one in the most intimate way possible.

“Definitely… “ You sighed in relief, lulled by his presence under, around, and inside you.

“You know, “ He started, “Maybe you would feel even better if you talked to me about that troubled past of yours. We’ve been together for a while so you know I won’t judge, eh.”

You crossed your arms on his chest and raised your head a little to plunge your eyes into his, “Nosey little gangster.”

“Little? Fook me, yer the little one here.” He teased, one brow raised, “You tiny brat.”

You stuck your tongue out as a reply, which made him laugh. Yeah, you were definitely the brattiest angel God ever created.

“I’ll let you keep my shirt if ya tell me. Sounds like a deal, eh?”

“Deal. You’ve won.” You replied, "I like your shirt too much to say no," Truth be told, what motivated you was not really the shirt itself but the fact you were done bearing the weight of your past all alone. In addition, Arthur had always been completely sincere with you from the day you met. He had been true about his demons, his fear, his flaws. About everything. You definitely owed him the truth, “ Alright… I was living a happy little life in the French Alps when Hughes came.” Your smile vanished from your face at the simple mention of his name, as if you had bitten into a pill of cyanide, “He replaced the town’s priest for a few months. We thought it wouldn’t make much difference but we were wrong. No one saw it coming you know? His words were so smooth that almost everyone was hanging onto his sermons. He was the one who spread the rumors witches were hidden among us. And weeks after weeks, the whole town slipped into insanity. Superstition and fear drove them all to accuse friends, family, or neighbors of concerting with the Devil.” You paused and swallowed the lump in your throat.

Arthur gently slipped one of your ivory strands of hair behind your ear, listening to you carefully.

“Five men came into our home one night, and they assaulted my mom, my dad, and my little sister who was sleeping in their bed. It’s true my mom was a witch, but she used her power to heal the ill and the wounded. No one knew the extent of her abilities, they just believed she was a brilliant herbalist… I was in my own bedroom when it happened so the noise woke me up. I wanted to help them but what could a thirteen years old girl could do against all those strong men?” You bit your lip.

“Take your time, love.” Arthur’s fingers lose themselves in your hair in a tender sign of affection and support.

“I escaped by my bedroom’s windows and hid in a bush. They were looking for me, calling me awful names and… Laughing. Yeah, they laughed as if they were having a fucking hunting party, except I was the bloody prey.” You clenched your jaw and frowned, hatred burning in your sanctified eyes, “They took my family away. I followed them discreetly, in hopes of helping them to escape. But I couldn't.” Fighting against your tears, you buried your face in Arthur’s neck. His arms tightened around your frail body in response. He wanted you to know he was there, “They’ve hung my dad. And they sent many women including, my mom and my sister, to the pyre. She was eight. She was just a fucking kid, Arthur.”

“Bloody hell…” Words were at loss at such awful revelations. He hugged you tighter in a reflex, his instincts wanting to protect that poor frightened little girl who was still crying somewhere in your mind. The little girl who never had a chance to heal.

“I still hear her screams at night. So full of agony that it was hard to believe they came from a human being. Her screams haunt me, along with villagers' chants around the bonfires,"

"Their chants?"

"Burn witch, burn witch, burn." You whispered, shaking like a leaf.

“How did you manage to escape?” His gruff and comforting voice asked. You snuggled a bit more in his arms in response.

“I knew the woods by heart. I walked for days to the village that was at the foot of the mountains and knocked on the first door I saw. An old woman used to live there. She took care of me. But as I grew up, I could not heal from that terrifying night. My mind kept replaying the screams, the laughter, and the chants, to the point it almost drove me crazy. I had to do something to soothe the anger that was burning within. So I waited and waited until the time to avenge my family came. I tracked down the five men that broke into our house and took my family. I hunted them like animals for weeks, instilling fear in them, as they did when they were looking for me. And when they finally died, I left France and tried to build a new life here, in Birmingham. Regarding the rest of the story, I think you already know it. I fell for a gangster and here I am. In your arms.”

“Which is exactly where you belong” He corrected. One of Arthur's hand grabbed your chin and gently forced you to look at him, “I am so sorry, love. So fookin’ sorry. But don’t feel bad for the men you killed… They deserved it — just like Hughes and his colleague. An eye of an eye,” His lips kissed your head with indescribable sweetness, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again eh. God forgive but I’ll make this city fucking bleed if someone dares to lay a finger upon you ever again,” His other hand stroke the curve of your hips, “I know no one will replace nor bring back your family. But… You have me,” He said awkwardly. As he did, he very lightly rolled his hips under you, causing you to sigh with pleasure for you had kept him warm and loved between your legs during the whole conversation. “You have me for-fucking-ever. And I’ll do my best to heal the pain and save you from your demons.”

You smiled at him, utterly touched by what he had just said. His promise was like a soothing balm on the gaping wound of your heart, “Am I not the one supposed to save you? ”

“We save each other, love.” He whispered, his lips collapsing with yours in a kiss filled with unspoken promises and undying love.

“I love you.” You mumbled between two eager kisses, barely finishing your sentence when Arthur’s lips captured yours again.

“Not as much as I do, love” He mumbled against the corner of your mouth, his mustache grazing your cheek when he did, because he refused to stop devouring your lips even for one second. The whisky taste of his tongue intoxicated you, making you so dizzy you did not understand how he flipped you on your back. Nor how you ended up gently pinned to the bed, the weight of his body on top of you. But it did not matter. All that mattered was the moment. The soft moans and sloppy kisses. The creaking bed and the endless sighs. You made love again— but this time it was more slow and sensual than earlier.

And late at night, when you finally fell asleep in his loving arms, you did not hear the screams anymore. Nor the evil laughter lurking in the shadows. Quite the contrary, you dozed off with a smile on your face and shooting stars filling your head, lulled by the soothing rhythm of Arthur’s heartbeat. His fire was the only one you would let consume you skin to bones.

He was the gasoline.

You were the match.

And if you both burnt,

The whole world would burn with you.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife

#little lora 💚#comment rb #HYE squad #Arthur is my little tortilla

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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THE GIF. FUCK, I'M SUFFOCATING. This is just you running after Tommy and throwing a shovel at him! Honestly, making you want to strangle Tommy is my best achievement 😂😂

That ain't stupid, honestly the readers are their parents too, maybe more than myself because they make them live in their head. So yeah, you can definitely feel like a mother to these two adorable lovebirds. To be true, they are really happy together. Feels good to see Arthur full of joy right? 🥺

Thank you so much for pointing out Arthur and Tommy's relationship because that's literally a key aspect for both characters. It's true that the commonest idea is Arthur's S/O turning him against his brother -- which is a valid route as you said - but that's not how Heaven functions. She's not stupid: she sees how much they love each other despite their relationship being harsh and filled with flaws (like, imo Tommy is very harsh on Arthur sometimes. I just want to shake him and yell 'plsss be gentle with him, you idiot"). Consequently, she doesn't want to pull them against each other. Even if she hates Tommy, she's okay with Arthur and him keeping in touch. She only interferes when Tommy is harsh or slips again in his tendencies to manipulate Arthur. Moreover, at this point of the story she does not hate Tommy entirely.

I'm delighted you liked that small moment between Michael and Heaven. They don't really like each other. In fact they just don't care, but they are definitely bonded in their trauma because of Hughes.

As for the villain Era... 😁 Remember the rumors of murders? Remember the "She's the white Devil for the rest of us"? She was made with the idea of her not being an angel despite Arthur's opinion. This is not the start of her "villain" story but it definitely shows that she is not all soft and caring. But no spoil!

Thank you so much little Lora! I hope I've managed to surprise you with this little twist!

As for the song recommendation... I loooove your idea of Heaven's voice, it works like a charm. Moreover I've always loved this song 🥺. Devil's Advocate is def perfect for Arthur defending her teehee. As for the Royal Blood's one... This is absolutely lovely to share this song with Heaven. I'm pretty sure Eleanor and her would have supported each other a lot. She would be the best friend she misses in her whole story.

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: What is supposed to be a chill afternoon at the grand opening of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children, turns out to be a nightmare: Charles is kidnapped and chaos spreads in the Shelby family. This is when Thomas remembers something you had told him: "You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.” He suddenly understands: You did it.

Words: 5K

TW: Angst, Child kidnapping, typical canon violence, graphic description of violence, death of secondary characters, murder, a very quick allusion to child abuse, gruesome kills, a lot of blood I guess

Notes:

✞ This chapter is based on the event of S3 Episode 6. Italicized parts are taken from the show. However, it contains many changes from the show's script, especially to accommodate this fanfiction's purposes and the characters' development.

✞ Theme song to listen to on repeat while reading if you want

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS PART || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Say it Tom, say it to ‘em! ” Arthur’s loud voice exclaimed in a joyful tone, calloused hands clapping with strength to encourage his little brother and his speech. The whole crowd, as well as you, followed his example and stood up to applaud the founder of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children. Admittedly, you recognized that the idea of opening such an establishment was surprising yet excellent, especially coming from the family’s boss. Quickly glancing at Arthur and his smile, you could not help but melt. The blinded love and trust he had for Tommy had something admirable despite your rocky relationship with little King Shelby.

You sit back and, as you did, Arthur gently put his hand on your thigh and took a look at you, his magnificent blue eyes shining with affection. He did not need to say a single word for you to understand what was going through his mind: he was just proud. Proud of Tommy, obviously, but particularly proud to attend such a significant ceremony with his stunning woman by his side. Even though most of the town knew about Arthur’s mysterious angel, attending the event with you had something official. The butterflies in his stomach flapped their wings when he introduced you to some guests as his sweetheart — you had even overheard him calling you his “future wife”. The way some of the visitors looked at both of you, their traits stretching in surprise as they realized that the sweetest creature they have ever seen was deeply enraptured with him, was enough to fill his heart with pride. A faint smile flattered your juicy lips at such an endearing vision, the joy it brought upon you making the whole crowd disappear for a few seconds as you lost yourself in Arthur’s beauty. Another thunder of applause popped your daydreams and forced you to shift your focus back on what was going on.

In fact, the first lyrics of Immortal Invisible brought you back to reality as it echoed in the room. You were about to join the chorus, Arthur’s fingers discreetly reaching for yours as a silent request to hear you sing with that lovely voice of yours, when you caught sight of Tommy leaving the room with hastened footsteps. The aura of sorrow that emanated from him stirred both your empathy and your worries — even though you did not get along, you could not help but commiserate with him on this difficult day that reminded him of Grace far too much to handle the event properly. Thomas’ beloved wife was everywhere around you, you could sense it. Her presence was so overwhelming that one could have expected to see her walk into the room at one moment or another. The cruel truth was that she was gone for good, and what was left of her slowly pushed Thomas Shelby to the edge of depression. Instinctively, your cold little hand tightened its grip around Arthur. His company kept your mind from drifting too far in the dark waters of your own loss. And by loss, you meant your Dad, hung high on a tree, as well as your Mom and little sister who had burned on the pyre.

The room was filled with chatters and guests, whose discussions blended together in an unintelligible cacophony. Alone in a corner, a glass of champagne in your hand, you swept the room with interest without really taking part in any conversations. Somehow, huge gatherings had never been your cup of tea — you came from a small town lost in the mountains after all, not from the city. Moreover, you were well aware of the curious, sometimes snobbish looks other ladies gave you and you were not sure they would be particularly delighted by your presence. They thought you did not fit the picture with your long and braided white hair, your ivory sun dress, and Arthur’s long and black coat resting on your shoulders. To be true, you could not blame them, you did not fit in but you were also surprisingly fine with it. When your lips grazed the sparkly alcohol, you winced a little bit. As ironic as it sounded for a French girl, you despised the taste of champagne, even though you still took the glass you had been offered out of sheer politeness. Giving up on the idea of drinking it, you just sighed. It did not take long for you to grow bored with analyzing people’s faces — they were more or less the same, and most of them took the shape of women giggling when Thomas walked past them. You soon caught sight of Arthur and John, both talking to their brother.

“Fuck me, Tom. I don’t know how you do it.” Arthur stated, his gruff voice and harsh words contrasting drastically with Thomas’ elegant elocution. He had barely finished his sentence when the latter was once again forced into another formal conversation with aristocratic ladies. He took a quick look at John, who was sipping on a tea, and rolled his eyes, annoyed. Understanding that having a real conversation with Tommy was going to be difficult, he waved off the idea and finally headed back to you. As soon as his eyes fell on your frame, his face relaxed and enlightened with a loving smile.

“Oi. Why are you all alone, Angel?” He inquired, his arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close to his body for he could not keep his hands off you for too long, “want to go back home?” Arthur laid a tender kiss on your cheek, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your skin in signs of deep affection. Your smile widened at the sensation of his mustache, to the point you could not hold the light chuckle that escaped from your mouth. He was so worried about your well-being that he went straight to the point: if you wanted to leave you had every right to do so.

“No need to go back home dear, I do enjoy the party. I’m just not really good at social gatherings nor making new friends I guess!”

“Ada told me you can join in her conversations if ye want.” His thumbs caressed your hips in a circular motion.

“I don’t want to bother Ada. She seems rather busy.” You put down your glass on a nearby table, and snuggled in his arms, more than thrilled to have his whole attention for yourself. The slight anxiety you had been feeling vanished into dust at his soothing warmth and his manly perfume. A perfume that had started to blend with yours, hence creating that unique fragrance of your love.

“Hey Arthur, move. You know she likes me hugs the best.” John teased — he had also decided to keep you company rather than waiting on Tommy.

“I’m really going to kick yer ass John, don’t care if I do it in front of all the people of this bloody room.” He growled, pulling you even closer for he refused to let you go. Even if it was with his own brother. Your grin widened, their never-ending sibling arguments never failing to amuse you.

“I would take your brother’s threats with the utmost seriousness if I were you. But at the same time, I really appreciate your dauntless nature. C’m’here.” One of your arms left Arthur’s neck to welcome John in the hug despite the hoarse complaints that followed. John, not hesitating for a slight second, joined in and held you in his arms for a few but indescribably comforting seconds. Each time he would pull you in a bear hug, he would make you feel at home.

“Okay, enough —“ Arthur nudged his little brother in the ribs, the corner of his lips curling up in a sadistic smirk only older siblings knew how to do.

“Why don’t you hug me longer? Afraid to show your sensitive side, Mon amour?” John said, making his best impression of your French accent and the pet name you were always giving to his brother. This time you could not help but genuinely laugh, a part of you astounded by John’s ability to be that annoying. The face Arthur made, contorted with both shock and anger, only cracked you up harder. Still, you softly stroke his neck to keep his spirit quiet and avoid him throwing a tantrum in the middle of the room.

Finally resigning himself not to bounce on John and beat the shit out of him, Arthur looked at you with the most irresistible puppy eyes he could do. Sometimes you had trouble realizing he, who could look like a beaten dog, was the same man that could kill someone with his bare fists out of jealousy and fuck you roughly in the shower still covered with fresh blood right after.

“Lemme smack him, please Angel. Just one little tiny punch in his fookin’ face.” He begged, “Just to shut his bloody mouth, eh.”

You raised a brow, your hand trailing up his neck to fix his hairstyle — Arthur shivered at your touch, his whole body responding with tremors of lust that shook him to the core, “Not here. But you’ll find a good moment to avenge yourself, Mr. Shelby” You said, punctuating your sentence with a knowing wink.

“Woah, calm down Devil. I thought you’d defend me!” John retorted, pretending to be outraged by your betrayal.

“Not my fault if you’re stupid enough to believe that.” Your grin turned into a sharky smile.

“That’s my girl,” Arthur purred when looking at you, “always on her good ol’ Arthur’s side,” He pressed his lips on the side of your head, laying an enamored kiss upon it. How much you liked his way of showering you with love no matter where you were. Nevertheless, the lighthearted conversation did not last long, for an unpleasant gut feeling alerted all your senses. You slightly pulled away from Arthur and frowned, instinctively looking in Thomas’ direction. He was talking with Ada, his face veiled with a deep worry you had never seen him wearing. Something happened, that was the first thought that crossed your mind — and how right you were. At this moment, Thomas walked to you, his piercing blue eyes expressing concern. You saw him coming before his own brothers.

“Heaven, love? Are ya alri—“

“Boys, have you seen Charlie?” Thomas cut him off.

“Eh…” Arthur softly released you from his sweet embrace to focus on Tommy, “I don’t know. He is playing, ain’t he?” His smile faded away as if he had just sensed that something was wrong.

The wind changed for Thomas Shelby, whose legendary self-control broke down at the moment he realized Charles had disappeared. As your mind proceeded with what was happening, he had already started to go from guest to guest asking if they had seen his son. The more he asked, the more his placid tone turned into the painful roars of a wounded lion. All it took was one tiny second for the whole ceremony to dive into chaos.

Deafened by the sound of your own beating heart racing in your chest, you started to look around you in a vain attempt to find Charles maybe playing under a table or behind furniture. That was all you could do, for your feet seemed stuck in invisible roots that were keeping you from moving. You stood there, useless, for you did not know what to do. Maybe Charles was still here, hidden somewhere to prank his nanny? But all Tommy’s hopes and yours crumbled when Ada, so stunning in her elegant outfit, caught everyone’s attention with precious information.

“Tommy. Someone said they saw a nurse take him through the back door.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Fuck.” Arthur swore out loud, grabbing his sister by the wrists before storming out of the room with the other Shelbys.

Boom. Boom.

You brought your hand to your chest, now convinced your heart was about to burst. Something had definitely happened to Charles — as you had sensed weeks ago at the Garrison. Ripping through the lethargy you were embroiled in, you ran up the stairs and rummaged through each room to look for Charlie. Voices, all mixed, came through the opened window. You froze, listening to them.

“Arthur! Somebody saw a woman and a kid getting into a car.”

“Ah, fuck!”

“CHARLIE!”

“Where is he? Tell me.

_Someone took him. Listen to me! They put in in a car. They put him in a car and drove south. We’ve got roadblocks, we’ve got spotters. I’ll set up shop and put every man we’ve got… between here and Maypole.

_ Right. You do that.

_ You gotta go to the office. You gotta sit by the phone. Whoever took him is going to call. Polly! Let’s go, Pol! Stay by that phone. Me and John will cover the roads.”

And that was how the world collapsed on Thomas’ head. Again.

You looked at his car disappearing in the dull horizon, knowing that dark hours were awaiting all of you. Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the mighty silhouette of the crow that was staring at you from the nearest tree with his dark beady eyes. A dull caw sound tore the silence that had fallen upon the mansion and snatched you from your anxious mind.

Caw. He mocked.

And to think it had warned you!

When Tommy stormed into the office, all of the family already gathering there, the sound of his soles hammering the wooden floor made the whole skies shiver with fear.

“Where’s Heaven?” He asked, blue eyes looking dagger at Arthur because if someone knew about you it was obviously him.

“Coming. She was with Esme.” His gruff voice retorted, trying to remain calm for Tommy’s sake.

“Esme’s waters broke,” John answered right away, “I was just with her. Running around fucking broke the waters.”

“Where’s Finn?” Thomas insisted.

“With the young’uns looking for the Riley. We couldn’t reach him.” Arthur informed before bringing a glass of whisky to his mouth and taking one big gulp. The fire that trailed down his throat almost made him sigh with momentary relief.

“I need to know who spoke. Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside of the family. I need to know who spoke, who they’ve spoken to.” Tommy was trying hard to remain calm but his erratic breath and the quick pace of his words betrayed the rage that was boiling within him.

“Tommy…

_ Your future wife, Arthur?”

Arthur’s pinched his lips, swallowing the furious urge to yell at his little brother for uttering such an obnoxious accusation. He looked away as he tried to keep his composure.

“I’m gonna tell myself you’re not thinking straight. Your mind’s not clear.”

“I want to see her now, you hear me?”

It was at this moment you entered the room as if you had been summoned by Thomas’ words. You had appeared in the doorframe without a single noise, Arthur’s dark coat contrasting with the unsettling porcelain of your skin and the fair aquamarine of your iris. There you stood, all the family’s eyes staring at you for they had told you it would have been probably better if you did not come. All of them were more or less aware of Tommy's hostility toward you, and they knew he would certainly find a way to blame you in one way or another.

“Speaking of the Devil.” He said with his most collected tone, while his gaze darkened at the sight of your doll face. If Arthur saw an Angel when looking at you, Thomas could only recognize the threatening shadow of death floating around your silhouette, the long coat you were wearing reminding him of the Grim Reaper’s cloak. All that was missing from the picture was a scythe in your hand, “Did you speak?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply replied, walking to Arthur. The wooden floor creaked under your heels. You were already exhausted by his accusations you knew that were awaiting you. But still, you came, because all you wanted was to be where you belonged: by Arthur's side, supporting him.

“I know Arthur can’t keep his fucking mouth shut and tells you everything.” He quickly glanced at his brother, who was staring at an invisible dot on the wall to keep calm, and shifted all his focus back to you again. You clenched your jaw at the petty comment, “So I’m gonna reiterate the question and you’re going to answer me, eh. Did you speak?"

“I did not speak, Tommy. I said nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.” He retorted right after you finished your sentence. His hands, pressed against the table, were now trembling with a rage he desperately tried to tame, “I know you’ve got something to do with all this shit. I know that’s you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Arthur was quicker. Grabbing your wrist in case he needed to protect you from his brother, he stepped between the two of you, “Come on Tommy, I know yer angry and anxious, but that ain’t a reason to accuse her. She didn’t do anything.”

“Ah. Arthur Shelby protecting his damn fallen Angel, I was expecting it" His eyes went from him to you several times, "Do you think she didn’t? So, can you explain why did she tell me to keep an eye on Charles weeks ago?” Tommy's words were coated with poison. The quietness of his voice, highlighted by the rumble of his growling soul, only rendered him more impressive. Silence fell over the office at such a revelation no one knew.

Astounded, Arthur turned to you and, with his brows furrowed in confusion, stared at you, “Did ya — Did ya really say that?”

You blinked, stunned by Thomas’ vivid memory and by the gleam of shock in Arthur’s steel blue eyes.

“Hey, listen. I did not plot behind this family’s back nor did I hurt Charlie or anything.”

“Why would you say that to me then?” Tommy took a few steps toward you. He would usually avoid coming to close to you when other people were around, but you were not sure he would do so this time. You wanted to back off but Arthur’s grip tightened around your wrist, for he did not know what to think anymore. “Whose side are you on, uh?” Tommy asked, "Did anyone ever wonder whose side she's on?"

“I saw a crow on my way to the Garrison and I felt it was a bad omen. And then I had a gut feeling after our conversation. That’s all, Thomas! It was just a damn clairvoyant gut feeling!” You defended yourself, before looking at Arthur, “I swear it’s the truth.”

"Yeah, the truth," Arthur repeated, trying to overcome his insecurities.

“Oh my God, keep your witchcraft-coated excuses for someone else, Heaven. You talked at best, you work with Hughes at worst. After all, you knew him before you came into our lives” Tommy tried to come closer again but Polly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him at a safe distance, “No matter the makeup and the jewels you wear they won’t hide the Devil under there.”

“Don’t imply I have something to do with that fucking bastard!” You hissed through your teeth, hatred blooming within at the sole mention of the name. This time, Arthur’s calloused hands grabbed you by your shoulders to keep you still, for you were starting to get agitated. At this point, he was not sure if he did it to protect you from Tommy, or to protect Tommy from you.

“Heaven, calm down…” He said softly, trying to ease the wildfire of your anger.

“He’s accusing me of Charles’ kidnapping, Arthur! I can’t fucking believe it!” You protested, your doll face wearing injustice like the most beautiful jewel ever crafted. Arthur kept you firmly against his chest, his arms locking around you and his hoarse voice whispering “I know love…” in your ear.

“And I can’t believe you think I'm naive enough to believe you talked to a bloody crow and got a bad feeling. Tell me where’s my son, you Devil.” Thomas growled in the background.

Polly pulled his nephew’s arm, for he was starting to be too harsh with you “Why not? She has brought a bird back to life Tommy. I would not be surprised if she saw it coming one way or another.”

“'Scuse me?” He turned around in one vivid movement, his eyes diving into his Aunt’s. He could not believe what she had just said.

Another silence flew over the room as the rest of the Shelby family confirmed Pol’s information with a nod of the head. All the people in this office had witnessed the extent of your power at the last gathering you had organized in your garden — hence the fact they were not particularly surprised by your sharp instincts. John swallowed, recalling the way the bird first twitched in your small hands before flying away, wings flapping with newly breathed energy.

“Pol’s right, Tom,” Ada started, “I usually don’t believe in these kind of things but it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

It was too much for Tommy, who already was on the very edge of his patience. There went his mind, aching at the thought of his sweet son trapped between the monstrous and disgusting claws of that twisted priest. His boy, the last thing that kept Grace’s memory alive, had been snatched from him and here his family was, defending the one that probably did it. Of course, he believed in supernatural forces — he was convinced a curse took Grace away from him — but Tommy needed a more rational explanation. He needed anything that could help to get Charles back. He brought one of his trembling hands to his mouth, gathering all his remaining strength to restrain himself in such a catastrophic situation, “She resurrected a damn bird, and no one told me…” He said to himself, " She resurrected a bird," He repeated, a faint and nervous chuckle escaping from his lips before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Heaven‘s really sensed it, nothing else. You know she would never harm Charles. She felt it coming Tommy. She is… She is gifted. Do you understand how useful she could be?” Polly’s words, coated with both softness and authority, managed to soothe the hurricane of violence that was raging within him. Thomas had stopped talking yet he kept looking at you with anger burning in his ice-cold eyes.

You frowned —still trapped in Arthur’s arms for your own sake—, and looked at Polly.

“Forget it, Pol. He’s not going to change his mind.” You finally said after letting out a long sigh. A part of you was well aware that bargaining with Thomas Shelby was useless. Moving your shoulders, you managed to free yourself from Arthur’s embrace and, to his greatest surprise, made your way to the exit. He almost jumped, catching your hand in his.

“Heaven.”

“No Arthur, this is fucking useless. I am not going to stay here and let him blame me for everything that happens to this family while I did nothing but share my clairvoyant feeling with him. He wants me to prove whose side I’m on? Fine! I’ll do it then! ”

Arthur opened his mouth, thinking about something that could convince you to stay but he knew you were right. He finally lowered his head, jaw clenched and eyes avoiding yours.

“Gonna come with you then,” His gruff voice mumbled.

“No, you stay there.” You said, which made Arthur frown even more and look at you with utter confusion, “Thomas needs you. He’s aching and vulnerable. Stay with him and do what you have to do, Arthur. I'll wait for you.”

“Alright.” He resigned himself, worries making his magnificent eyes shine, “ one last thing.” He said after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Hm?”

“Tell me you have nothing to do with Charles’ kidnapping.” He dared to say, feeling utterly ashamed by the fact he needed reassurance about it. But he had always trusted Tommy more than anyone else and now, he was conflicted between his loyalty to his brother and the maddening love he had for you.

“Arthur… Are you serious?” You asked, your heart hurting at such a demand. A sigh fell from your lips, whose red lipstick made even more hypnotizing. “ I promise I'm not involved in Charles' kidnapping. You have my word.” You finally said as you looked at him right in the eyes, trying to hide the pain.

“I— I trust you,” He paused, “I trust you.” He repeated, then he pulled you in a quick hug to soothe his inner turmoil. To be true, he would have probably died if it turned out you had been toying with his heart all along. But Arthur refused to believe Tommy was right, this awful thought almost leading him to the path of madness again, “Take care, love. See you later.”

You replied with a faint, exhausted smile and left the building, disappearing in the fog of Birmingham’s streets.

The fact remained that Tommy did not feel better after you left.

Or Esme getting cash for cocaine, eh, John?

All of a sudden, back in the family, Ada, eh. That’s a surprise. Out of the blue. On whose orders?

And you and your painter…

Down he went, spiraling into a paranoid craze and, to everyone's greatest surprise, you were not the only one that had triggered it.

The sound of Death Knell resonated in the night, its threatening shadow floating over Birmingham houses and souls. Following Tommy’s plan, John and Arthur roamed through the train station with the firm will of spreading calculated chaos at 10 o’clock in a grandiose murderous explosion. You can go with them but it’s better if you let them do the job, that was more or less what Arthur had told him before he left. Despite the orders given, Michael managed to leave the two henchmen behind and reached Hughes’ church without getting caught by another Peaky Blinder. It was not that Tommy’s plan was poor, but he indubitably needed to take care of this business alone. No one around him seemed to understand how deep his pain was entangled with Father Hughes. He had to wipe the priest out by himself — he had promised it to his little self after many sleepless nights recalling his dirty hands wandering on him.

And he did.

Michael was panting, a mix of thick repugnant blood and sweat dripping from his face. Still straddling Father Hugues’ corpse, the young Blinders’ hands were frozen on the knife he had thrust into the priest’s throat. The hot and sticky sensation almost made him throw up when it first poured over his skin. A crimson puddle had already formed under the body, growing bigger and bigger as minutes passed. And when that same puddle reached the floor’s grooves, it filled them with dark red blood and drew patterns on the wood.

Another grunt escaped from Michael’s quivering lips as he slowly realized what he had done. He killed. Again.

All wobbly on his legs, Michael Gray still managed to stand up and took a few steps back, his hand leaning on a bench. His fair eyes did not shift from Father Hughes’ motionless body for he forced himself to look at him— there lied the monster who had terrified him for years. There lied the child eater, his neck opened and his obscene glassy eyes staring blankly at the church’s ceiling.

Coming back to his senses the best he could, Michael stumbled to the heavy door of the room from which Father Hughes came out and opened it. All he wanted was to carry Charles in his arms, telling him everything would be fine, and flee from this cursed place. Yet, his heart missed a beat when he entered the small room and realized Charles was not there.

“Fuck!” Michael blurted out. Panic kicked in again as he tried to come up with a solution, or at least an idea of what to do. He knew he had to think, and he had to think pretty fast because Charles' life was threatened. He needed to find the kid before it was too late. The main reason behind his dedication was not only to show his worth, but also to keep a child from suffering at an Hughes’ hands ever again. However, Michael's thinking process shattered in pieces when he heard the heartbreaking cries of a kid yelling at the top of his lungs. Blood froze in his veins as he recognized Charles’ voice.

Following the screams, there was a thundering noise of something heavy dropped to the floor, and nothing. Nothing except a chilling silence that brought goosebumps to his pale flesh.

Oh no.

Michael stood still in the loud silence, as petrified as an animal in front of the blinding headlights of a car.

No, no, no!

They’ve killed him, he thought. Of course, they did. Father Hughes was probably not alone in that bloody church, even though Tommy said he did not expect them to come. Someone was here and took advantage of the chaos of his fight with Hughes to grab Charles and hurt him. Whoever his accomplice was, they had just ended Charles's life and it was all his fault. If only he had listened to Arthur. If only he had let the two henchmen do their job and handle the situation. Guilt started to beat him.

Michael shook his head, hoping it was not too late, and ran toward the direction the noise and cries came from. His heart raced in his chest as his legs almost automatically moved, winding up his anxiety like a mechanical toy, and led him to a second room he did not see at first.

“HANDS UP YOU BASTARD!” Michael yelled, storming into the room that was directly linked to a backdoor exit: the perfect spot for Hughes’ accomplice to flee with the kid in case of emergency. Or to kill him in case something happened to the priest. Pointing his gun in front of him, Michael was ready to shoot, hatred blazing in his eyes. He winced at the foul and slightly metallic smell of blood that jumped at his face as he entered the place. Michael was a brave boy. He was ready to use violence. He was ready to actively take part in the family business. Hell, he was even ready to die if that was what he had to do, but there was one thing no one prepared him to face and it was what he saw in this place.

“Oh my God!”

He cried out, his breath hitching with panic as his blue eyes, filled with tears, first caught sight of a second corpse lying in a lake of blood. If Hughes' dead body was already gruesome, it was nothing compared to his accomplice's.

The man, who was strong in stature and impressive in height, was staring at him with blank eyes, silently begging for help. His petrified face, splattered with dark blood, was distorted in a terrified expression as if he had seen the Devil itself before dying. Yet the cause of the poor lad’s death was not fright, but rather the dozen stabbing wounds that scattered his body, and the pair of huge scissors that was deeply stuck into his neck. Michael could not help but step back, so disoriented by the macabre spectacle that was in front of his bewildered eyes that he dropped the gun Tommy had given him. The sound it made when it crashed on the floor caused Charles to cry again.

“Shhhh, everything’s fine Charlie. Everything’s fine. Keep your eyes closed.” A soft and enchanting voice raised in the room, like it did the night Arthur wandered aimlessly to church. For a few seconds, Michael was convinced the voice did not come from a human being. It sounded so foreign, so alluring, it could only belong to an angel of justice, whose avenging blade fell on Hughes' associate. Then he saw her, the creature, and his eyes widened even more.

“Bloody fucking hell.“ He really tried to say something else but his brain could not proceed with the sight of Arthur’s woman holding Charles in her arms, her sweet angel face and frail body entirely covered with crimson stains.

“I know.” You simply replied, one of your hands tenderly resting behind Charles’ head to keep him from looking at the butchered dead man that had fallen on the floor when your scissors tore his jugular vein.

Michael stood still, staring at you with utter shock.

"How?" He managed to ask, one sole tear running down his cheek.

"Please Michael, don't ask questions. I just — I just want to go home." You whispered, the far too familiar smell of blood and after-taste of murder making your head spin. You closed your eyes for one second to keep the traumatizing images of your past from flooding your brain and let out a shaky exhale. When you came back to your senses, you walked to Michael and put Charles in his arms, still careful to keep the corpse out of his sight. Then you left the room.

As you passed by Father Hughes, you stopped and looked at him from above, indescribable hatred blazing in your iris.

"See you in Hell, sale fils de pute — You son of a bitch — "

Michael followed, still unable to keep his eyes away from your mesmerizing frame scattered with blood drop like millions of precious rubies. The way you looked at Hughes' corpse resonated with him so much he could not help but talk.

" Did he..." He left his sentence hanging, but you understood what he meant.

"No, he did not. But he still found another way to be the cause of my sorrow," You glanced at Michael from above your shoulder, "I'm glad you killed this bastard. There are people whose souls can't be saved, and he is one of them."

"Yes, he definitely is." Charles had calmed down in his arms, lulled by the soft movements as Michael walked outside the church by your side, "what about the second man?"

"He was about to kill Charlie and then come for you." You replied, trying your best to forget the unpleasant sensation of half coagulated blood on your delicate skin. Michael took a while to process the information and realized you had probably saved his and Charles' life.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His question brought a faint yet terribly melancholic smile to your lips for it reminded you that you had broken the only promise you did to yourself. The promise of not taking another life ever again.

"Are you?" You replied to his interrogation by another one.

"No, I'm not. I feel... Empty."

"So, you already know the answer."

When the door opened and Michael entered the house with Charles sobbing in his arms, Polly and Ada ran towards him and cried in relief as they hugged the child. Polly soon focused on his own son, whose blank expression left no doubt on what he had to do to save Tommy’s kid… He killed, and it changed him forever. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, checking on him with tears in her eyes, knowing she could not do anything to ease Michael's pain anymore -- and what was more awful for a mother than watching his child suffer without being able to do something about it? What snatched her from the sorrowful conclusion she had come to was Ada’s gasp, who had just realized Michael was not alone. You had followed him, a cold expression etched on your face and a myriad of red ink stains soiling your whiteness.

“She helped,” Michael stated with a tired voice before anyone had the time to say something, “She helped me save him.”

Ada looked at you with surprise, trying to discover the mysteries your traits hid so well, but her focus was far too disrupted by the frightening amount of blood that was covering you. Blood everywhere on the stunning, little, murderous creature she never thought you were. Many questions raged in her skull, like a tornado of thoughts and speculations. After what seemed to be a whole eternity, she managed to speak,

“For God’ sake… It could have been dangerous!” She said, blinded to the simple possibility you had just killed someone without batting an eye, "You are wounded! Look at the blood!"

You sighed and remained silent, stealing the silver cigarette case that was on the nearby furniture. The tip of your tongue moistened your juicy lips, whose corner was stained with red lipstick you smeared all over your skin when you had tried to wipe the blood that had splattered on your face.

"It's not mine."

Your hands were still shaking from what you had to do, unpleasantly recalling their past crimes. Then, you slipped one cigarette between your teeth and lit it with the zippo you found in the pocket of Arthur’s coat that was still on your shoulders. Shivering with cold despite the fire burning in the hearth, you nestled a bit more in his coat in a desperate attempt to find a substitute for your man's comforting warmth.

"I beg your pardon? Whose blood is it?" She almost choked with surprise. Then it struck her. "Heaven..."

You did not say a single word and kept smoking in almost religious silence.

"Who the hell are you?" Ada inquired, her shaky voice coated with an odd mix of fear and fascination stirred by the eerie aura that was all around you.

You took a long puff from your cigarette before staring deep at Ada’s beautiful eyes. You looked at her for a while, then shift your focus on the fire burning in the fireplace. You watched the flames dance, the sound of wood cracking sending shivers down your spine. Ada swallowed, waiting for your answer. She, who had defended you in front of Tommy a bit earlier, could not tell anymore if you were the hero they needed or the villain they had to fear.

Saint or sinner? Spell or prayer? Blessing or curse?

Who are you, she asked.

“I am the one they really should have burned.”

A cloud of smoke came from your mouth as if hellfire was burning within you.

And somehow, it was certainly the case.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd

#comment rb #little lora 💚#HYE Squad

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Noooo Lora, don’t sue me 🥺 !!

I can only agree with you because I am not fond of SK’s way of dealing with relationship, especially with Arthur. Taking this into account, I’m even more honored that you think the relationship between Heaven and Arthur sounds as effortless as sincerely genuine love, because it something I’m trying to convey but that’s quite a difficult thing to do. You accurately describe this whole chapter: they barely know each other in term of past experiences or information, but still they accept and they love everything they already know about each other.

You’re right, it would not have worked with Linda whether she was sincere or not. As you said religion may help a lot, and surely it helped Arthur a little bit, but the way she tried to model him to her was not what he needed. She was far too controlling. Without expanding on the Linda topic, I think that’s one of the reason his relationship with Heaven works well: she doesn’t want to change him, she accepts and just want to keep him from doing far too destructive things like drugs.

Teehee Lora I’m delighted you think Hughes was a terrifying villain because I thought the same. He had a chilling something. And I hope you won’t be disappointed with his role because he’s definitely a key character in Heaven’s story!

In truth, I am stunned by your analysis, honey. This is only the second chapter and you’ve already pointed out how touch is primordial between the two of them. Arthur is literally touch-starved.

Regarding the description… YESS GIRLL 🤣🤣 Thank you so much for corroborate this 100% truthful description of Arthur. He’s just… All limbs lmao!! I’ve never notice how funny he looks in a car so I’ll pay great attention to that, but the scene that really struck me was during Tommy’s wedding: like when he runs around the fountain he literally stumble on his own legs because they are too tall 🤭 surprisingly enough Paul Anderson’s height isn’t that tall, but he has little body fat and long limbs so it gives off these vibes of him being a giant. To conclude; we can say that the two words that fits to him are leggy and mustache. 😬

Thank you so much for commenting and for reading this series, I’m enjoying your comment you can’t imagine how much 💚 also PLEASE keep adding a title song related to what you’ve read if you have some because that’s the best thing ever. I’ve already added the two Lana’s songs you told me about to my playlist and this one is PERFECT too, literally fits Linda/Arthur! Not only I don’t mind, but I’ll be impatiently waiting for it your HYE playlist sweety🥺💚

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x OC!Reader

Summary: Weeks passed since Arthur's first encounter with the woman of his life. From that day, you meet every night and part only when the morning comes. When Linda starts to suspect it, she decides it's time to remind him who is in charge. The thing is, Arthur cannot take it anymore and just want to be with you.

Words: 4k

TW: Angst, toxic relationship, narcissistic personality disorder, mention of witch hunt and death, implicit divorce, soulmates finding each other for good but hint of dependent relationship

Notes:

✞ Even though Linda tends to be a disliked character, this story does not want to demonize her but rather offers an reading of the character based on my interpretation and research on narcissistic personality disorder.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PART ONE || NEXT PART

When Arthur came back home at dawn, he could still feel the tingling sensation your gentle and cold fingers had left on his skin. His body collapsed on the sofa, repulsed by the simple idea of sleeping in the marital bed beside his controlling wife, for he was smitten with the divine creature he had met earlier.

He wanted her.

Only her.

And he wanted her so bad that it physically hurt.

The way she had touched him — like no other women did — had lit a blazing fire within.

His whole being was burning with an unquenchable desire he was not really sure how to hold back. But more than a carnal appetite, it was his whole soul that was yearning for her. A feverish sigh escaped from his lips as his mind replayed each of their interactions again and again, like an old broken record: She had washed the blood from his face without the slightest wince nor hint of disgust. As the white cloth she used had turned entirely red, she looked at him with a soft gleam in her eyes, then laid a blessed kiss on his forehead. He remembered grabbing her wrists before she let go of his face and begging her not to leave. The look she had given him, full of divine mercy, almost brought tears back to his eyes. The Angel finally allowed him to rest his head on her lap.

His memory blurred from this moment. All he could remember was how gently her hand stroke his hair. He had dozed off, lulled by her fresh spring-like perfume and by the way her nails grazed the shaved parts of his head.

Little he knew that what was supposed to be a fortunate and ephemeral miracle soon turned into an addiction — maybe the healthiest addiction he ever had. He eagerly waited for the night to come because he knew that, at the end of the day, she would wrap her arms around his neck and make every one of his problems fade away. This was how they had started to reunite each night, hidden from the world’s sight.

Moon after moon, he would listen to her sing, her voice echoing through the church’s walls as it did the night fate had led him to her. Sometimes they would stay inside the church, talking until the sun rose and the birds chipped. Some other nights they would go for a walk, holding hands and finding comfort in each other’s presence. But ultimately, they would always end up laying in her bed, their fully-clothed bodies pressed together and their fingers intertwined, with the firm will of never parting. And it was at the exact moment when the heat pooling under their skin became unbearable that their lips would brush against each other’s, shaky breaths melting together as they fervently waited for the other to break the small but oh-so-excruciating distance that was separating them.

But he never did — for he feared hurting her.

And she never dared — Afraid she would curse him.

“You came home late. Again,” Linda stated. Noticing the calm but devastating anger in her voice, Arthur opened his eyes and focused on the wall that was facing him.

“Told ya. Had to take a walk.” When she remained silent for more than a few terribly long seconds, his gaze shifted from the invisible spot he was staring at to look at her winter iris. Invisible knives stabbed him as she gave him the cold-eyes stare she used to do whenever he didn’t do what she wanted or what she had expected him to do.

“Arthur. I already told you that working in the dark is —“

“For the Devil,” He finished off her sentence, “working in the dark is for the Devil. I know.” Arthur growled, too tired to suffer another Christian lecturing. As he swallowed, his calloused hand rubbed his throat as if it was looking for the invisible leash she had put around his neck. An invisible leash that had started to suffocate him after Tommy’s wedding.

“You know, I am trying to save you. But how come each night you leave the house and manage to sabotage each of my attempts to make God forgive you?” Her voice remained quiet, but each word she spat was coated with venom. Her personal dog was slipping through her fingers, disobeying her orders, and she could not stand it.

“Save me eh. “ Arthur repeated, his lips stretching in a crooked smile tainted with indescribable sorrow. There was a time he truly believed her — a time he thought Linda would see past the beast he was and treat him right, but she only trapped him in a loveless marriage. When she was not boring him with her endless religious sermons and metaphors, she would value herself by demeaning him.

By all means, Linda Shelby was a fierce woman who tended to give herself a superior appearance to others and felt an overwhelming need to be both admired and praised. Especially if it was at someone’s else expense.

He could have ripped her throat with his bare teeth, of course. He, Shelby’s unhinged mad dog. But Arthur wanted so desperately to be loved that he had never dared to bite.

“Yes, save you. But I’m starting to think all my efforts are useless. I helped you get off drugs. I brought you to church each Sunday despite ruining my reputation dating a Shelby and this is how you thank me? I am —“ She paused, only to step closer “ Deeply disappointed in you.” The expression on her face would have broken Arthur’s heart if she had not used the same trick countless times before. It was just a part of her strategy.

“Come on, Linda! Say it!” He snapped and jumped from the chair, facing her, “Say I’m not worthy of saving eh. Ye always say that kind of fookin’ things to me. One day I’m a poor misguided sheep, the other I am a shit not even worth stepping on. This ain’t goin’ to save me. Yer messing with me brain!” He hit the left side of his head with his palm as he said so.

Linda blinked, surprised by her husband’s audacity to bark at her.

“How… Dare you?” She whispered , feeling her self-control starting to break down. Despite the anger slowly building within, Linda was smart. Far too smart for lashing out on Arthur by yelling at him — For her, relationships were like a chess game. All she had to do was moving the right pawns to get people to do what she wanted, “Don’t you realize that I am the only one who will ever want you?”

Was it the sound of broken glass or a shattering heart? Arthur could not tell, for her murderous words had struck him with the violence of a guillotine’s blade on a prisoner’s neck. He took a few steps back, bewildered by what he had just heard.

“Yes, you heard me right. When I found you in London you were fucking with these Eden Club’s whores because no one wanted you. You either scared women, or repelled them, and don’t be dumb enough to think it has changed.”

At this point of the conversation, his head started to get so dizzy he had to hold onto the chair’s backrest, “Don’t— Say — that.” He gritted through his teeth, nails digging into the varnished wood.

Closing his eyes, Arthur thought about you in an attempt not to burst into a destructive rage, but his heart only ached more at the possibility of you being afraid of or disgusted by him. What if she was right? What if you, God’s most beautiful Angel, would grow tired of him? After all, you were a young and pure soul. And he was an old and sick bastard.

What could he give you, except a miserable life in Small Heath and the negative influence it has upon people?

Linda sneaked behind Arthur with a wild cat’s grace and put one of her delicate hands on his chest. The unwanted physical contact snatched him from his thoughts. He reopened his steel blue eyes, shining with both anger and pain. A part of him — the self-depreciating one — wanted to fall on his knees and beg her for forgiveness, knowing far too well that placing his hopes in you was a vain thing to do. No one would ever want him, she said. Let alone you, Heaven, the most beautiful and holy creature he had ever seen.

“So now,” the tone she was using had turned from venom into sugar again “You will first apologize to me and, then, promise me to stop leaving at night no matter the reason behind those nocturnal getaways. I don’t care if it’s for family business or for a young slut. You’ll stay here and be a good husband, will you?”

And that was how she always won arguments without raising her voice once. Pushing the right buttons and using a punishment/reward method with Arthur was efficient enough to keep him under her thumb. Now, she knew he was going to feel awful for yelling at her and he would seek for her tenderness, afraid she would leave him. Maybe he would cry, maybe not, but as long as he remained obedient it did not really matter. That was what usually happened. Or at least, that was how it would have happened before you and he met, for he could afford to lose Linda but not his angel. In fact, he would rather rot in hell than give up on you.

“Go choke on yer apologies, Linda. Ya don’t seem to realize that I’m already saved, and ya had nothing to do with it ”

When, with eyes wide open and trembling hands on her mouth, Linda Shelby realized she had lost for the first time in her life, the door slammed so violently it felt the whole house was shaking, within an inch of collapsing on her head.

If there was one thing you missed from your home town it certainly was the mountain forests of your childhood. There was a comforting feeling in walking through the green vastness of the woods, birds' whistles and streams’ whispers for only companions. When you first came to Birmingham, you felt like suffocating: the noise, the smell, the swarming people… You had trouble handling it for weeks. The truth was, you cried yourself to sleep almost every night, wishing to wake up in your beloved French Alps. But, deep inside, you knew that coming back to Haute Falaise would be a death sentence.

Even though the bedroom you rented from Lucy, the lovely widow who managed the place, was located near a mock forest, it was nothing compared to the mighty splendor of the mountains’ landscape. Still, you understood that crying would not resolve your problems so you did what you did the best: raising your head and taking the blows… And here you still were.

You had just finished brushing the horse’s mane when Lucy came, arms crossed on her generous bosom.

“There’s a man waiting for you at the door.”

“A man?” Your brows furrowed for you expected no one. Making friends had never been an easy task for you, even more considering they were all scared of you and your white hair.

“Tall, all limbs, cold blue eyes, and a mustache.” Lucy stared at you, waiting for your answer to know if she should welcome the visitor or if she could chase him with her broom — the landlady was not a very social woman. Even though you remained silent, the surprised and shy expression that appeared on your juvenile face gave her an answer, “ Alright… But if you plan to fuck, I’d ask you to clean the bedsheet yourself.” She added.

You would have died from shame right on the spot if Arthur’s presence did not occupied your thoughts. Heart racing in your chest, you walked to the door but the tall blonde woman, whose face remained placid as always, grabbed your arm as you went past her.

“Heaven. He’s a Peaky Blinders.”

“I know Lucy.”

“And this one is the most dangerous.”

The frozen blizzard of her eyes warmed when she stared at you, silently begging you to be careful around this kind of men, especially when they bore the name of Arthur Shelby. She, along with all of Birmingham, was aware of his violent nature and did not want him to put you in a vulnerable position.

“Well. My mother used to call me dangerous too.”

“Hm.”

She let go of your arm when her sharp senses noticed love coursing through your veins. Lucy sighed…

It was already too late.

As soon as Arthur saw you running to him, your long ivory mane dancing in the wind and your aquamarine eyes shining with excitement, the weight of his dark thoughts magically lightened. His morose mood vanished, swept by the way your hypnotizing body swung at each step. It was the first time someone looked at him the way you did, genuinely radiating with joy at his simple presence many dreaded. In many ways, he was used to glimmers of fear and hatred or, at best, pity, in the eyes of those staring at him, but not that deep and sincere affection you always blessed him with. His lips stretched in an enamored smirk, his mustache slightly lifting as he did.

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” You asked.

Words choked in his throat, for the way the pale sunlight reflected on your delicate porcelain skin clouded his mind with confusing and intense urges. His strong, calloused hands grasped your hips with hast, almost bruising you in the process. Yet, you wrapped his neck with your arms far from being repelled by the firmness of his possessive grip. Quite the contrary, his overwhelming need of owning you made you feel safe.

“Arthur?” You called him again softly, but he remained silent, mesmerized by your beauty he never had the chance to observe by day. A light, hoarse chuckle escaped from his mouth.

“I can’t help but wonder where your wings are each time I see you, love.” His smile widened when he noticed the adorable pink shade that had just appeared on your cheeks.

“Don’t try to change the conversation, what are you doing here?” Fire burnt within as his hands tightened their grip even more, and his thumb started to caress your hip in circular movements.

“Couldn’t wait for tonight. And to be true, I can’t fookin’ wait at all. My body and heart yearn for ya. It’s like a slow acting poison running through my veins, infecting me brain. And it feels good only when I’m with you.”

Boom. Boom. Your heartbeat echoed in your whole rib cage, its pace so brutal that you were pretty sure it was about to burst your chest open. Moisturing your lips with the shy tip of your tongue, you did your best to muzzle your emotions.

“I missed you too. You know… I feel like I come back to life when the moon rises.” Mission failed, your heart spoke far too quick than your rational mind, even though your voice was merely a whisper — In spite of all your love, the man was not yours and he will never be.

At your words, Arthur let out a long relieved exhale and leaned over you, burying his nose in your neck. A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation of his mustache tickling your sensitive skin. Usually, he would rub it in your neck to make you laugh but today he was not in the mood to torture you. All he wanted was to keep you in his arm and never let you go. His ardent breath, fanning over you, made you realize how close his mouth was, and this sole thought almost drove you crazy. You ran your small hand through his hair and brought him closer— but it was never enough. No matter how close you were, there was always too much space, too much clothes, too much of everything between you and him.

Arthur closed his eyes and drown in your perfume, whose floral and green fragrances reminded him the smell of Lily-of-the-valley. And even if he had never dare to use his lips on you yet, he started kissing your collar bone for he could not resist anymore.

“Fuck—“ You breathed and bit your lower lip, trapping it between your teeth while you tried not to give in to the fuzzy sensation that was numbing your whole being.

His mouth kept conquering your skin, tingling kisses trailing up your neck first, then your jaw, and your cheek. With one skilled movement, his hips crashed against yours and hugged your forms with a tailored perfection — He was convinced God created you for him and nothing could change his mind. One of his powerful hands left your hips only to catch your chin and raised your face for you to look at him. You felt overwhelmed and intoxicated, surges of electricity running through your body as the Celeste blue of your eyes dug into the steel blue of his.

“Arthur— No. You’re married.” The words that had just escaped your mouth left a bitter taste on your tongue. Your face turned to the side, denying him access to your lips.

“Is that the problem, love?” Arthur was still staring at your lips, forehead pressed against your head. Strands of hair were falling in front of his face, now darkened with a shade of anger. He was not mad at you, far from it, but your anxiety about his marriage reminded him of the foul things Linda had said to him a few hours ago. He swallowed, gathering all his strength to keep his calm even though you had already met that monstrous part of him the night you had cleaned the blood off his face. Somehow, Arthur knew you accepted him as he was — contrary to Linda who wanted to change him — but his protective nature told him to spare you from his tantrums.

“It is indeed one of the two problems that keep me from kissing you, Shelby. You know the nature of my feelings for you, dear, but if I resisted the temptation of your lips for months it’s not to give in now. I don’t want to be the other woman.”

Arthur backed off, jaw clenched. Then, he raised his left hand to display the golden ring he had never taken off since his wedding day. “So it’s that damn thing that bothers ya,” He paused, only to look at you and your otherworldly beauty. Sometimes he had still trouble realizing you were real, “lemme tell you something… It ain’t a wedding ring. It’s a fookin’ noose and I don’t want it anymore.” At these words, he took it off and threw it as far as he could with one powerful movement. The ring, whose golden surface reflected the pale sun rays, flew away and ended in the small stream nearby. As soon as it touched the water, the stream's flow carried it away.

You looked at him, speechless and bewildered by what he just did.

“Fook Linda, and fook my vows. I don’t want ya to be the other woman, I want ya to be me woman.” The gravel in his voice sent a shiver through your spine. He looked at you, arms open, silently asking what else he had to do for you to belong to him.

Admittedly, Linda had been one impediment to your relationship with Arthur, but it was out of respect rather than anything else. What really terrified you though, was the consequences of your love upon the man.

“You don’t understand Arthur,” This time tears flooded your vision, for if Linda was a resolvable problem, the other obstacle was engraved in your flesh, “They say I’m cursed.”

His long arms fell down along his body, not quite comprehending what you meant by "cursed". The tall gangster remained petrified for what seemed to be an eternity, his mind proceeding with this information. You had always been mute about your past — all he knew was that you came from France and people thought you were some kind of witch. But as superstitious as he was, he would not let stupid rumors ruin you. You were everything he needed, everything he prayed for, cursed or not. And at this point, he was just saddened by the distorted image you had of yourself. How he would have loved to lend you his eyes so that you see yourself through his lights. This is why he broke the distance you had set between you and him and pressed his warm and rough hand gently against your cheek.

“You ain’t cursed. Who told you that?”

“Father Hughes.”

“He’s a cunt. And even if he’s right, you can be their curse, but it doesn’t mean yer not me blessing eh.”

“But — “ The sun reflected on your crystal tears, making them shine as if melted diamond streams were overflowing from your heavenly eyes. What people had always said about you was still somewhere behind your brain, hanging onto it with their claws dug deeply into your synapses. They kept you awake at night, along with the villagers’ chants, the menacing pyre, and the stones cast at you.

“You’ll die if you stay by my side.” You muttered between heartbreaking sobs, whose ache would make stones weep.

“You don’t seem to understand, love. I’ll die if I don’t.” He spoke all the while lovingly pressing his forehead against yours, pulling you into a tender embrace — It was at that very moment you discovered that his tenderness had the power of chasing your sorrows away.

Silence fell down on the two lovebirds, whose silhouettes embellished Lucy’s garden. Arthur’s lips brushed against yours, still unsure if you wanted it or not. Yet, the way your mouth slightly parted left no doubt of your consent. He leaned over you to break the distance but, as he did, you gently backed up but only to tease him this time. He growled, his hoarse voice making your soul vibrate.

“Kiss me, eh.” He complained, with a low tone.

Your lips still grazed his, gently, ghostly, like an angel’s feather. Arthur inhaled your breath and the feverish sigh that followed made you flicker like a candle flame. That was only when the wait became unbearable, almost physically painful, that your mouths collapsed, like rogue waves crashing against the shore’s stones. As you were finally giving in to your desire, a firework of sensations exploded within and eluded everything that surrounded you.

He smelt like whiskey and musky aftershave, but he tasted like honey and sadness.

Among all the drugs he had taken, all the alcohol he had consumed, and the women he had known, the sensation of your tongue lightly touching his with an adorable shyness was so ecstatic that it rendered his past vices bland and empty. The world melted under your feet. Arthur embraced you tighter, feeling the need to be pressed against every inch of your body he could rob from you and jail them in this timeless moment. Your lips slightly shifted to the side so you could catch your breath, but he kept kissing the edge of your mouth, hungry for more and more. He did not want to let you go for the life of his. No matter if he had to suffocate in the process.

“I love you, Heaven.” He mumbled between kisses.

It was all it took — along with the pleasant caress of his mustache on your face — to convince you to give up on breathing too and devour his lips a second time, fiercely. As you pulled him in a second kiss, Arthur’s hand left your cheek only for him to run his long fingers through your magnificent hair, whose ivory color suited you so well. To be true, he really fancied that unusual physical trait of yours; given how he always played with some of your long white strands. Your tongues danced one last time together and as they did, his demons found a cure in yours.

Arthur pulled away reluctantly, knowing he had to let you go. He had a meeting at the Garrison with his brothers to talk about the Russians. You laid a soft kiss on his chin, waiting for him to break your embrace.

But he never did — for he feared losing you.

And you never dared — Afraid he would shatter without your touch.

Any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom. I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven.

Ask if you wanna be tagged in future Peaky Blinders Works.

Peaky Blinders Requests are open.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

#Little Lora #HYE squad #comment rb #you’re the actual angel

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Oh gosh Lora!! I did not expect you to start reading this series and let me tell you something: I am beyond touched! Please don’t put any pressure on your shoulders, you being a slow reader is completely fine. You owe me nothing and I am already moved to tears that you’re willing to give Heaven in Your Eyes support. So, take all the time you want.

Thank you so much for your sweet words. Im a non-English native writer so knowing you find it poetic but not cheesy is a huge compliment. As this chapter is the first one and marked Heaven/Arthur’s first meeting, I put emphasis on the eerie and angelic atmosphere. I love that you highlighted the part with the raven, and let me tell you that your analysis is 100% accurate. Since that chapter is filled with almost a supernatural mood, the raven does symbolize the frontier between reality but also Arthur’s own guilt manifesting in front of his eyes. Hence the fact the raven is not afraid of him and laughed at him.

I’m delighted that I’ve managed to make Heaven’s first appearance as stunning as Arthur sees it, since this chapter is kinda told through his eyes. It’s really love at first sight for him — as if he felt she was meant to be his. 🥺 As for her, she wasn’t scared despite of the blood and kinda immediately cared for him as no one ever did.

Admittedly I don’t listen much of Lana Del Rey but I’m definitely going to check those two songs — because I’m utterly moved by the fact you associated two songs with my story. Like… It means a lot, this is adorable 🥹 And from what you’ve written, the lyrics 100% fit these two future lovebirds.

Little Lora, I hope you’ll enjoy the ride and welcome to the roller coaster. Thank you so much my dear, really. Thank you 💚💚

Heaven In Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Beaten with guilt and shame after losing his temper again, Arthur's aimless wandering leads him to church. There she is and, after diving into her heavenly eyes, he is convinced God has sent him His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul.

Words: 2.6k

TW: Blood, a bit of angst, slight blasphemy and bad use of holy water, reckless x caretaker Inspired by the prompt "Where does it hurt? - Everywhere" by @the-three-whumpeteers

Notes:

✞ Timeline: between seasons 2 and 3

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here). Heaven’s voice and song is linked, all you have to do is click on the lyrics.

The stumbling tall silhouette of Arthur Shelby was crossing through the thick haunting mist of Birmingham. As unwelcoming the town was during the day, it was nothing compared to night time. When sun faded behind the horizon, chased by the pale glowing face of the moon, the whole city turned into a cut-throat area. Arthur brought the neck of the bottle he was holding to his chapped lips and gulped down a mouthful of pure Irish whisky. The fire trail the beverage left behind it as it went down his throat reminded him he was alive — he could still feel something, even though it was the alcohol’s burning. An animal growl escaped from his lips when the bottle left them only for him to lean his back against one of the church’s gigantic concrete walls. A loud raven’s croak torn the silent veil of the night, making him swears. The gravel in his voice answered to the dull bird, which was watching him from a tree with his tiny and beady eyes.

« Fooking bird, laughing at me like the rest of ‘em eh? »

The raven — which was rather large for a bird — tilted its head to the side and kept staring at the drunk man with a cunning interest. Its black eyes, shining under the moonlight, seemed filled with both a wise glare and a mocking sparkle. Soon, Arthur’s curiosity for the raven’s unusual behavior turned into a senseless anger when he understood why the bird was focusing on him, his explosive rage strengthened by the incredible amount of alcohol he had drunk a bit earlier.

« It’s the damn blood is it? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m — I’m some kind of monster, or a beast or I don’t fookin’ know what else! Go to Hell! »

The bottle flew towards the raven but it did not flicker, as if it knew Arthur was not in the shape of being quick nor particularly precise with aiming. As the glass smashed into the ground, Arthur hit the wall behind him with the back of his head and let out a frustrated scream. No more cocaine, no more auto destructive behavior nor suicide attempts for two years straight, and tonight he fucked it all up. He was convinced he could get better, and God knows he tried his best to do so. Got sober from every poison he used to take, got a religious wife that was trying to turn the wolf in him into a sheep… Hell, he even brought her flowers every damn day. But then came troubles, taking the shape of his little brother, Thomas Shelby.

He asked him to do the dirty job — again.

With his calloused hands, he took another man’s life. At first Arthur thought he would not be that disturbed at the idea of killing someone, after all he had done that almost his entire life. Just one last time, he told himself, just one last time and I’ll go back to my little peaceful life with me wife.

Yet, the guilt and the shame that struck him after bashing the lad’s head against the edge of a sink until his face became a pile of squishy flesh soon became too much to handle.

As the last spurt of blood spattered his face, Arthur’s clouded mind became suddenly crystal clear: it would never stop. After that epiphany, the older Shelby brother contemplated how everyone he deeply loved tended to use him. For Thomas and the rest of the family he was a mad dog, the combat brute whose only times he could enjoy life without a muzzle were when he had to rip someone’s throat apart. For his father, he had been nothing else than a poor naive hound that would have done anything to receive his respect. As for Linda, her love was a cruel mirage he wanted to believe with all his heart — but the illusion had vanished in smoke. Whether she considered him as her personal test subject for Christian brainwashing or as a tool to get what she wants, Arthur could not tell. What he could tell though was that he knew she did not really loved him. She wanted to mould him at her will, but he was no lamb. He was a wolf, a beaten and lonely wolf, but still one. And there was no love for rabid wolves, only a bullet through the brain to cure the madness.

As his skull buzzed with macabre thoughts, whose unpleasant noise reminded him of a furious beehive, a bewitching voice pulled him out of his auto-destructive spiraling. Standing at attention and listening carefully, he came to realize that someone was singing inside the church. Arthur’s eyelids fell on his steel blue eyes and the back of his head gently rested against the cold wall behind him, the same wall he had been previously smashing it with. A sighed escaped from his liquored lips as the angelic and hypnotizing voice, slightly muffled by the church’s heavy wooden doors, plunged him into a soft but oh-so-warm haze.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold…

Lulled by the sad melody carried away with Birmingham’s cold night breeze, the swarm of raging hornets in Arthur’s brain stopped crashing against the bony walls of his skull. Another sigh — one of relief this time, for the unbearable noisy thoughts and violent buzzing had vanished. His trembling fingers, numbed by the blows he had hit his target with one hour ago and still covered with half-dried blood, slid along his temples and slicked his hair back. The utter and feral anger he had felt was reduced to void, for even his old heart had slowed its pace down in his ribcage.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

The tune, embedded with melancholy, soothed his troubled mind and to be honest, he could barely believe it. When that switch in his brain flipped, God knew he was not in control anymore - even dear Linda, who still managed to hush down some of his tantrums, could not tame the beast inside when it broke free a bit more fiercely than usual. Yet, this voice did so. This stranger, faceless and nameless ghost of the night, brought him back to sanity with the sole power of her voice. The words she was singing, with her a juvenile and enchanting tone, were wrapping his heart. Arthur sniffed and fought hard against the dawning tears that were forming delicate crystal beads at the corner of his closed eyes.

If he had been the jolly sailor bold, he would have thrown himself out of the boat to join the siren that was singing.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

She repeated, sadder than she previously sang.

Her song sipped through his heart and filled the cracks with molten gold. Arthur’s lips stretched in an almost invisible grin without even realizing it — By her voice, he was convinced she could repair the damaged creatures like him and make them even more beautiful than they were before they had been dragged through the trenches’ mud and shit. He had barely came to his senses, almost miraculously sobered up, when silent fell again in the church. Arthur reopened his eyes, and shook his head - Had he dreamt? Had it been the whiskey singing to him? No, he could not be that crazy right? Not quite sure if he was starting to hear voices and see things, Shelby decided that he had to found out who had been singing to his very own soul. He wanted to see her, the girl who soothed his foul heart and his twisted mind. He wanted to know, no, he HAD to know, even though his whole being was fragile like a flickering candle flame caught in a hurricane and would probably shatter in million of pieces if she turned out to be an illusion.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Arthur grabbed the handle and opened the church’s door.

[…]

A shiver ran down your delicate spine at the loud silence that floated in the gigantic and empty church. The peculiar sweet yet strong scent of myrrh, wood and frankincense filled your lungs with its holy fragrance. The vibrations of the last word you sang was still echoing in the room, swirling to the high and sculpted ceiling from with marble angels were watching over you. If someone would have told you two years ago that the only place you would find comfort would be a church, you would not have believe it. You had never been particularly fervent about religion, but you did believe in higher forces whether they were good or bad. More than a matter of faith, the church itself was an old friend of yours. A gargantuan friend of stone, holy titan always welcoming you even in the darkest moments of your life. What you liked the most were these lonely moments at night, during which you could light up dozen of candles and sing your sorrow to the status and colorful stained-glass windows. No gossip from the parish, no believers swarming like ants within these mighty walls. There were just you, the candle lights and the soothing silence. For a few hours, you could finally find peace.

Brushing the varnished wood of the altar with your thin fingers and painted-red nails, you let your mind drift and, suddenly, the world around you vanished. You sunk so deep in the abyss of your thoughts that you did not hear the creaking sound of the heavy door opening, nor the footsteps that followed. All you could heard were the « Burn witch, burn! » that hundred of villagers screamed at you in the woeful remembrance of your past. And in spite of your immaculate porcelain skin, you bore the scars of their words deep in your soul.

[…]

Arthur made a few steps before freezing, his body refusing to come closer as if the aura around the creature that was standing back to him , right in front of the altar lightened up with dozen and dozen of small dancing flames, was too sanctified to be violated. Bathed in the soft and warm orange hue of candles, the long white hair of the woman fell down the small of her back like an ivory waterfall. Right above her the pale glow of the full moon coming through the stained-glass window formed a luminous halo around her head.

His breathing stopped, choking in his throat at such a divine vision. The gangster opened his mouth to speak but no words managed to come out. He had never been good with words anyway. Instead he moistened his lips and swallowed, his mouth dry. The white-haired girl had started to hum the same song she had been singing a bit earlier, not aware of his presence — and he did not dare to disturbing her as if he feared God’s punishment. He took another step, the wooden floor creaking under his sole.

This time the angel — because he was convinced it was one — jumped and turned around, an expression of utter surprise veiling her sweet face. Her fox eyes, adorned with two iris so fair it reminded him of aquamarine stones, scrutinized his slightest movements. She remained petrified for what felt eternity for her, but regarding him the time had stopped for good. Arthur finally inhaled sharply, coming back to life.

All those endless nights of crying, all those endless nights of praying in vain for something or someone to save him, and here you were… His salvation.

He had asked God to send him, the most desperate sinner of all, His most beautiful Angel and He had done so.

She was not just pretty. She was otherworldly and vaguely threatening. Almost ethereal in her short white dress whose cut let her naked back for the world to see.

« I waited for ya. » He whispered.

She blinked, her full and juicy lips opening with surprise.

He stuttered, looking down and decided it was better for you if he stopped talking. The gravel in his hoarse voice, as strong as it was, sounded indescribably frail. As if this tall and slightly threatening man could shatter at your single touch. Now he felt stupid, clumsy with words contrary to Tommy and his naturally eloquent and charismatic speech. In addition to the unpleasant impression of being a fool, Arthur’s own whisky-scented breath and the strong metallic smell of blood reminded him of his horrific appearance. Overcoming the awe you infused in him, panic started to kick.

You frowned, and all of sudden he did not look that impressive anymore. Swept away by the wind, your face relaxed and wrapped itself with a calm, almost placid expression. You exhaled through your nose and walked towards the gangster, who had brought his bloody hands to each side of his head and was now pulling his own hair in a desperate attempt to not lose track.

« Where does it hurt? » You asked with a quiet and soothing tone, for you were concerned about all the blood he was covered with.

Arthur raised his gaze toward the petite white-haired doll who had just pressed one of her cold little hands on his. Your ice against his fire made his legs weak and his heart missed a beat. How his breathing calmed down at your touch was a mystery, but it did. Not quite comprehending why you did not seem scared of him, he stuttered again, all flustered.

« Shhh, shhhh. Everything’s okay, take a deep breath and answer with all the time you need. » Your hand gently tightened its grip, willing to show him you were there and you were not going anywhere until he feels better. You waited until you felt him more incline to talk before reiterating the question.

« Where does it hurt? »

« Ev-Everywhere love. It hurts everywhere. »

His hands, his face, his body, his brain, his soul, his damn tortured soul… It all ached too much, and too constantly for him to bear anymore. E-ve-ry-where, that was all he could say because pain was all he could feel.

Without answering, you pulled him to the altar and invited him to sit on the marble stairs. The strong and fierce gangster followed you without the single physical resistance and gave in between your hands, as a rag doll. All he did was looking at you with his charming but oh-so-exhausted blue eyes as you tore the fabric of your dress near your thighs and soaked it in holy water.

« Let me wash away the blood. » Your voice echoed in the vastness of the church, enticing and haunting at the same time — enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. You had barely finished your sentence when you started rubbing the wet cloth against his hollow cheek to clean his pale skin from the dark red blood. Once again, he could not help watching you during the whole ordeal all the while enjoying the fresh sensation of the holy water cleansing the dirt of his soul. Not minding his stare filled with fascination, you focused on your task, brows slightly furrowed and fingers blessing him with the softest and most caring touch someone had given him.

« Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh. »

You quickly glanced at him, a sparkle of amusement shining in your cunning celeste blue eyes, before looking back at what you were doing. The weight of his gaze brought fire to your cheeks, for he looked at you like he had just realized what love was.

He looked at you, and to his greatest surprise, found Heaven in your eyes.

I'm super new in the Peaky Blinders fandom, so please bear with me... Especially since English is not my native language. To be honest I am kind of scared to post it so any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven. Still don’t know if I’ll write a full series or snipets of these two love birds.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

#little Lora #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #HYE squad #comment rb

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