#lizzie stark fanfic

[graveyard---dolly]

I love here

[novashelby]

I'm Not Your Wife, I'm Your Daughter-Father!Tommy Shelby x Daughter!OC-Angst

Pairing: Father!Tommy Shelby x Daughter!OC-Evelyn (but honestly, Evie has a little bit of everyone. So, you are welcomed to be Evie...we are all Evie)

Warning: Death, swearing, violence, mentions of sex, very sad

Word Count: 2,761

Summary: Evelyn comforts Lizzie as Ruby gets sick in the hospital. When Tommy neglects his family, his daughter has some choice words for him

I am so proud of this. For the first time in a while, I feel really happy with something I wrote. So, please please please consider commenting and letting me know what you think. I know likes are easier, but I'd really appreciate some comments.

The childrens’ tuberculosis wing was a dark road. In fear of contraction, no one was allowed past a certain point. It reminded Evelyn of the road to hell, but she was older then. She knew better to speak the words in her head. So instead, she said nothing as Lizzie and her stared down the corridor that only seemed to get darker. A simple hand on the shoulder was good enough, whatever that was…good enough. They knew nothing was good. So, perhaps, it was just enough.

No longer able to bear looking down where they took her, Evelyn turned, letting out a large exhale. Out of everyone, she had to be the strong one, the present one, the mature one. There was no room to lose herself. Without looking at Lizzie, her hand searched behind her until she felt the ridges of her checkered coat. Her fingers hooked around the sleeve and tugged. But she was stubborn. If anything at all were to change from then until the end, Lizzie was determined to be there. 

“Go home,” she told Evelyn, not unkindly. More so lack of any emotion. But she’d be damned if she left. Evelyn looked at her step-mother, or mother, she was never really sure what any of them were. The woman was young-only eleven years older than she, but her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks lost all and any color. It would have been nice and too easy to blame it all on grief. Evelyn knew better. Her father sent everyone to an early grave. 

She shook her head. “No way home at this time.” 

Lizzie softened a bit, giving a short head nod. “Very well-”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. There was nothing left to get. Lizzie needed no more coffee. The two women shared a look of understanding. Lizzie stepped forward and hugged Evelyn; her arms squeezed around her, head tangled in her hair. Stiff at first, Evelyn was taken aback. Her own arms slowly wrapped around, hands hovering for a moment over the woman’s back. While neither were ever affectionate as mother and daughter, Evelyn was bonded to Lizzie by one mutual understanding. One was birthed by a whore and one was a whore. “It’s not going to be okay,” Evelyn said, resting her hands against her back. “It’s going to be horrible.” She could tell the woman was crying from how her shoulders twitched and chest heaved.

“I know,” she said, furiously nodding. “I know, I-I know….” Lizzie did her best sniffing, and wiping the wetness from her face, but Evelyn grabbed her hands. It was okay to cry. Everyone did it. Especially when life handed you a reason with no explanation. “I’m, I’m fine-”

“Let’s sit.” Evelyn walked Lizzie to an empty waiting area that was just as gloomy as the corridor. They were quiet for a while, studying everything there was to study; paint chipped wall, door frame, the chairs, and a lopsided painting of the Dover cliffs. But when Evelyn turned her head, eerily sat next to her was a teddy bear. It was a faded brown with a worn out face. Dried tears left specks of crusty, hard fur. It and her stared at one another for far too long until she turned and found something else to get lost in. “He’ll come-”

“He loves you,” she commented, slowly looking at her. “Out of everything in the world, he loves you more than anything-”

“No.” Perhaps it was true, but Evelyn couldn’t afford Lizzie going down that direction. “No, he loves everything the same, Lizzie. If it was me in that room, he would have been just as conveniently occupied-”

“He’s affectionate with you-”

“My father’s affections are spread thin.” Evelyn looked at Lizzie, forcing a small, thin smile…lips pressed and face tight. She shook her head. “We all fight for what isn’t there. You, me, Charlie. If I was older and wiser, I would have told you none of it was worth it. Him, it, us…none of it.”

Lizzie for the first time allowed herself to laugh. It was awkwardly placed among the hospital grounds, but nonetheless, it was a laugh of sorts. “I would have been just as stupid-”

“Well, if you look at it this way,” Evelyn snorted. “Married John and you still would be without a husband.” As the words came out of her mouth, she regretted it, but Lizzie laughed trying to soak up any humor she could in distraction. Shortly after, they went back to sitting in silence, soaking up their thoughts. Perhaps trying to numb themselves in the midst of it. Evelyn felt so much she was numb. 

Sometime around midnight, Ruby had been moved to a different room. One where the family can see her under precautions. Lucky for Evelyn, she had received the vaccine as a child unlike Ruby. They had come out just in 1921 and just a short year later, made their rounds. Lizzie had fallen asleep, slumped in the waiting room chair. She almost woke her up, but decided against it, wanting to slip into the little girl’s room herself for a short moment.

And it was a short moment because Evelyn couldn’t bear to look at such a small life withering away. She slid in the room. It was the first time she saw Ruby for a few days and even then, she’d been thinner looking. Her feet stopped under the threshold, feeling her heart sink down to her stomach. “Ruby,” she whispered, not knowing what she could expect back. The last time the two sisters chatted freely, it’d been about fairies. 

First, it was a sneeze and Evelyn helped her blow her nose. Then it was a cough and Evelyn went into her little room with some water. Finally, it was the fever and after the fever, the infection spread over her little body. Both were too busy. Evelyn would never tell a grieving mother, you were also too busy. Her father was too busy neglecting family for work and Lizzie was too busy caring for a man who neglected her. When the fever got too high, she called the doctor. Funny enough, they were home. Both of them in their own world. Own repeating cycle. Tommy had asked why didn’t you tell us? Who could between all the drinking and yelling? But that was then when they were naive of it all.

Evelyn pressed by the threshold and quietly sat down on the edge of the bed. The young girl slept still, head lifted. She’d never seen a child so drained of life; pale and almost tinted blue. Her breaths were spread out and wheezing. Sometimes they’d be like little gasps for air, trying to cling onto whatever was left. Affectionately, Evelyn rubbed the girl's legs to get some circulation moving and propped her up better. She was still fashioning the braids from a few days ago. “You look so pretty, Ruby,” she whispered, sliding to the floor to kneel at the bedside. “I wish I brought a blue bow…I’ll put one in your hair for you’ll always be wearing a blue bow.” 

Evelyn thought back to the time she took her shopping in Birmingham. Ruby had just turned five. Look, they have a pink one for your hair. She would have looked so cute with pink. Ruby had taken one look at the pink satin ribbon and turned, pointing to the blue one, I want the blue one. “I’ll always get you the blue one,” Evelyn said when the memory ended and she was left staring at the still girl. Tears leaned heavy on her eyes waiting to fall down her cheeks. It would be the first time Evelyn would have allowed herself to cry, but not for long. She placed a lingering kiss on the girl’s cheek before leaving. When she opened the door, Lizzie had just reached for the door knob. But they only shared a quick glance before Evelyn went back to the seating area.

The bear had seemed to been moved, so when she walked back in, it’d been staring at her like the devil. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” she groaned, swiping it off the chair before sitting down. 

Sometime between then and whenever Tommy came, she fell asleep. He peeked in before sliding into the waiting area, kneeling by her sleeping side. Despite being twenty-four years old, Evelyn was still short and able to make a makeshift bed out of chairs, curling up. He was his girl. His baby still. After everything, Tommy still looked at her as he did when she was eight. His calloused, shaking hand rested against her cheek for a moment, his thumb making circles. “Love,” he whispered, placing kisses on her forehead. 

Evelyn jumped awake a bit, propping herself up with her elbow. In a tired voice, she said, “you should have been here-”

“I know-”

“No, dad.” Dad. Tommy felt that knife go through him. It had always been daddy, but never dad. “You should have been here!” The words came out like hisses through clenched teeth. She sat up, ignoring the cushion imprint on her cheek. Tommy couldn’t argue with that. He knew. Tommy looked down, swallowing, nodding.

“I had work-”

“Work,” she scoffed. “Ruby is in the hospital…she’s-.” Evelyn stopped talking, noticing the red puffiness around her father’s eyes. She knew then. ���Why are you here with me? You should be with your wife-”

“You should go home-”

“You’re deflecting-”

“You should go home,” he repeated, tone a bit more serious. “I’ve called Isaiah to pick you. If you want to have a fight, we’ll have a row when I come home later. Alright?”

Evelyn shook her head. “No.” She was incredibly tired of his shit. “No, dad, nothing is alright.” She slid from the chair and draped her coat around her shoulders, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Tommy looked over at her. “Remember when you were eight, and you told me something.” Evelyn paused at the door, rolling her eyes to herself before tiredly turning to her father. He was still kneeling at the chair. “You said…you said to me, do you remember? We were laying in the field and it was the first time I had taken you on the caravan-”

“What are you getting at? Huh?” she rushed him, fixing her bag on her shoulder. “I know, we went up north…it was the edge of the season and the mist…we got really wet laying in the grass. But I don’t understand what any of it has to do with you not being here!”

He got up, striding over to her, pointing, “you said…daddy, it’s me and you-”

“Because at that point, you were all I had,” she snipped back. “But guess what, I’m older now and my circle is bigger. I have other people, and in fact, out of everyone…it seems I have you less.”

Tommy cocked a brow. “No, no…you said, in some shape and form with your little girl words…daddy, it’s me and you, and no matter what you do, I will always be by your side.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You did,” he said, pointing. “You said that…it was misty and in September of 1918…In fact, I had adopted you just a month later. Shortly before that, I had came home from France-”

“I was eight,” she sighed. “You can’t hold something against me from when I was eight-”

His hand reached up and massaged her cheek. “I’ve held people for less-”

“Well, you fucking know what, dad.” She swatted his hand away. “That promise wears off when you start to neglect the only people who still love you. And quite frankly, loving you, it’s hard…it’s fucking tiring. Exhausting. You never know the meaning of accountability. You know what you do?” Tommy swallowed, his hand instinctively gripping her wrist. Perhaps deep down he was afraid she was going to leave. Go somewhere further than home. Somewhere he could no longer grab her. 

Tommy closed his eyes and sighed. “You don’t understand…no one hates me more than-”

“No one hates you, daddy,” she said. “We're just tired. Everything we have was not worth the cost of what it took. Everyone else is gone.” In one way or another, everyone else was gone. She slipped from his wrist and started to leave.

That is when he said, “I’m glad it wasn’t you-”

“That's an awful thing to say right now,” she whispered. “That was my sister-”

“I loved her…love…and my heart hurts so much right now,” he explained. “But if it was you, I’d be better off dead-”

“And that’s why I mean.” Evelyn had to choke down the tears. It was years of stress and trauma coming forth. Discreetly, she held onto the door frame. “You don’t understand…it’s too much! Daddy, it’s too much…I’m your fucking daughter! But after Grace died, I became everything! I became Charlie’s mother, your wife, your sister, your fucking mother! I became your nurse, your caretaker, your therapist, your fucking everything. It’s been ten fucking years, daddy, and I’m tired…I’m so fucking exhausted!” She walked over to, her hands gripping his arms. “I’ve lived through every stage of life for everyone, but myself…”

Tommy was hardly impressed. He knew what she was saying, but couldn’t accept it. Because he was selfish. “Have I not given you everything you’ve ever wanted? That is your problem, Evelyn, I raised you spoiled…and I will continue to fuckin’ spoil you because it’s too fuckin’ late. So what? I asked you when my wife died to help with your brother? Huh? Is that it?” He pinched her chin. “Do you not remember how you’d sneak out all the time? Get in trouble? Party and drink? I’d have to come pick you up from some random fucking house at three o’clock in the morning! So, don’t give me that bullshit, Evelyn…you lived your youth just fine. You know what I did with mine? Worked and then I went to fuckin’ war…So, I’m sorry, out of all your fun times, I asked you to hold a tad bit of responsibility. Go home-”

“Aunty Polly was always right about you,” she scoffed in disbelief. “You lack all sense of accountability. I had to sneak out because that was only time I was free-”

“And I never once punished you for it,” he interjected. “Never striked you, grounded you, hardly ever yelled at you…Out of everyone in my life, you are the only fucking person I’ve forgiven without consequence.”

Evelyn pushed away. “That’s because everything else has been a punishment. My friends from school are married…I was supposed to go to university, but you needed me home. All the men who wanted to marry have found other wives. Daddy, I am left behind because I’ve devoted my whole life to being your emotional lap dog, and what's sad is, you don’t even understand!” She paused to swallow, taking deep breaths. Tears had dripped down her cheeks, falling to the ground. “Daddy, you only have three people left…me, Uncle Arthur, and Aunty Ada…and some of us already have one foot out the door.” 

Tommy nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. He dug into his pocket for a cigarette. “Maybe my curse is my ambition.”

“And mine is that I love you too much,” she replied. “I love you so much that I’ve never left and I probably never will. So I will suffer until you die…I will watch you kill yourself little by little, drink and smoke, and sleep with women you can never afford to love. I will stand by and watch you wear people down until they die, and then have to put you back together because you realize your guilt. It’s a fuckin’ cycle.” Evelyn took a deep breath, fixing her coat before turning away. “Daddy, I love you, but I promised you that when you were making illegal bets on horse races. Not neglecting us for politicians.”

“What do you want me to say, Evelyn?” he asked. 

“Nothing. I want you to say nothing,” she said. “But I fucking swear to God, if you bring that blonde headed bitch back to our home and fuck her like you did the night Ruby went into the hospital, you’ll see a side of me you’ve never seen-”

“Daughters don’t get in their father’s-”

She looked at him once more. “I’ll fucking cut her head and stick it on the pillars of the bridge in London like 1600. And with her blood, I will write your fucking name….”

[evita-shelby]

Beware the Ides of March!

Grab your knives and togas and join me on this Tumblr Holiday where we celebrate the murder of Julius Caeser.

🥖send a prompt for a moodboard or a fic where the only requirements are: must have a murder, a knife, and/or a party

🍷 write a fic or a moodboard with the same requirements from the list above

🫒 let's play Caption This! Send a gif or picture of a character(ocs welcome!) And I'll supply the caption. You can also send the caption and i will find the gif or picture

🗡 the Gladiator Arena: send me a poll and the participants and let's see who wins the fight!

Won't be restricting myself to just peaky characters, every character I've written for be it a cillian murphy character, BBC's World on Fire and now, Masters of the Air

Masterlist

[tommyxgrace-always]

The sparks with these two🔥🔥🔥

…and then there was Lizzie,

the only spark she got was on her cigarette. Must say, she had far more chemistry with her cigarettes than him!!

[katebishopofearth]

Feel free to ignore….

How do you think tony would react to nats death? (In an ironwidow world ofc)!

Anon you've caught me in an ironwidow mood, and also a writing mood, and also an Endgame mood thanks to @queeenpersephone's excellent scene rewrite. So, it seems like the stars have aligned to make me answer this ask ;)

----

"See you in a minute." Natasha had smirked and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, a quick goodbye like she was going to to pick up cat food from the store down the road. Tony had barely laid a hand on her waist, hadn't even begun to hold her close for a lingering goodbye before they went off to different corners of space and time, when she stepped back lithely and slipped out of his reach.

He'll see her before too long.

But a minute later – after he took a life-changing trip to the past and laid some daddy issues to rest – Clint returns alone to the here and now. Drenched and weaponless, he collapses onto all fours, an orange jewel clutched in his hand.

The Avengers stare at him in trepidation, waiting for an explanation, when all he can offer is a grief-stricken look on his face. A black holes opens up in Tony's stomach and swallows his pounding heart.

"Where is she?" he demands, his voice shaking.

The bow-less archer turns his eyes to him. A look of profound sorrow carved into the lines on his face.

No. Tony swallows the despair that threatens to swallow him whole. "Where is she?!" He repeats, using anger to mask the immense fear that yawns inside him. He steps forward and kneels down to grabs Clint by the shoulders. "Tell me, you coward!" he snarls, at once a demand and a plea. Tell me she's right behind you. Tell me she got left behind. Tell me there's still time to save her. Tell me… tell me… anything except –

Clint shakes his head, unshed tears in his eyes like the alien stars he has just witnessed. "She's gone." His voice cracks.

"No – you're lying." Tony's voice comes out far harsher than he intends. "Tell me you're lying, Barton. Tell me where she is." He's pleading now, all desperation.

"Clint?" Steve prompts, his voice even and calm and Tony hates it, hates how he can be so fucking composed when Natasha isn't here. "Tell us what happened."

"The stone demanded a sacrifice," Clint says. "I tried to stop her, I really did." A sob wrenches its way out of his throat. "I fought her so that she wouldn't jump but she…" His laugh is a broken thing. Something inside Tony – the last remaining shard of hope – shatters at the sound. "She was too fast, too strong for me." He sinks his forehead onto Tony's shoulder despite the other man's aggressive hold. "It should have been me."

"No. No, that's not true, that's not…" Tony stumbles over the words. His head spins, light particles and dust molecules and oxygen swirl around him, taking no shape. His lungs don't work properly anymore. He sees her in his mind's eye, on some barren cliff on an alien planet, and the image doesn't make sense, it simply isn't possible. That she no longer exists somewhere in the world, that the universe isn't warmer for her presence, living and breathing, as certain as the Earth spinning on its axis. Tony wants to look out the windows because surely, surely without her the sun would crumble into ash and the atmosphere disappear and the world fall into smothering darkness because a world without Natasha – is not a world that can exist at all.

Clint raises his head and the grief in his eyes is as fathomless as the pit that yawns within Tony. A black hole to swallow them both and the world with them. Part of Tony wants to put his arms around Clint, hold onto the only person who can possibly understand this terrible, apocalyptic grief and emptiness. But the other part of him wants to push him away, to curse and scream, to fight time and fate and the universe itself.

That angry, resentful part wins out. He shoves Clint off and gets to his feet. "You're right," he snarls. "She's not the one who deserved to die."

"Tony!" Steve gasps in reproach, grabbing Tony's shoulder. But Clint only hangs his head in shame. "That was out of line," Steve reprimands.

"Out of line?" Tony echoes angrily. "Natasha is –" /dead/. He can't bring himself to say the word, to make it unbearably true and final. If he doesn't say it, he can pretend that maybe, maybe in another minute he'll see her again, and this time he'll wrap his arms around her, holding her properly so that she can't slip away again.

"She's gone," Steve says with sombre finality. The lines between his brows betray that he's already admitted defeat, and it makes Tony want to punch him in the face. "We've got to move on." The look of sympathy in his eyes, that implies I know how you feel, makes Tony sick to the stomach.

Tony's voice is freezing cold. "With all due respect, Cap," which is none, he adds silently, "Natasha isn't Peggy Carter. She didn't get to live a full life and achieve great things, and grow old, and die in her own bed surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She has so much life left to live!" He's vibrating with rage, and it's all he can do to stop himself from throwing hands with Captain America.

"She did," Steve agrees, squeezing Tony's shoulder in a way that's meant to be comforting but comes across as a pressure. "But she sacrificed herself for a cause, and we'll honour that. Make the price she paid worth it. We'll save the world. It's what she would want."

Tony glares, his anger freezes his veins and burns him from the inside out. "You don't get to tell me what Natasha would want." He pushes Steve's hand from his shoulder. "For someone who says he wants to save the world, you're awfully quick to give up on the people you love."

"You can't change the past, Tony," Steve urges, but Tony brushes past him roughly.

"No," he says with icy conviction. "I refuse to believe that. I didn't figure out time travel by admitting defeat. You might be able to move on, Steve," he adds scathingly. "But not me."

He marches to the console of the time travel machine. A cold fire burns at the edges of the black hole inside him, the only thing keeping it from engulfing him in despair. He's figured out time travel once, he can do it again. Especially when it's the life of the one person he loves more than anything else that's on the line.

He looks around the tense, grief-stricken faces of the gathered Avengers. Everyone Natasha loves – everyone who loves Natasha – in one room. Steve's arms are crossed and he frowns in disapproval, but Tony can't give a rat's ass what Captain America thought. "We want to save the world?" He puts it to the team. Bruce and Thor offer tentative nods, and that's good enough for him. "Good. We start by saving one of our own. It's only a victory if we all win together."

A spark lights up behind Clint's eyes. A glimmer of hope. Wordlessly, he gets to his feet and offers Tony the orange gem that sits in the palm of his hand. The Infinity Stone that Natasha gave her life for. A singularity of the birth of the universe, but a trinket compared to the singularity, the complexity, the paradox that is Natasha Romanoff.

As Tony takes the Stone from Clint's hand, a silent understanding passes between the two of them. They would trade all six Infinity Stones, a hundred times over, for Natasha's life and think it a bargain.

"New mission, team," he announces. It's a side quest in the grand scheme of the fate of the world, but it's also the only quest that's ever mattered. Because what good is saving the world if Natasha isn't in it? He adjusts the coordinates on the time travel machine and sets a course to Vormir. "We're gonna get Natasha back." Or he would die trying. Either way, he promises silently, I'll see you soon, honey.

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 18: 'Like Real People Do'

Warnings: Mentions of blood, childbirth, last chapter

Masterlist:

---

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

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

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

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

“She’s doing just fine,” 

“Her and the baby are healthy,” 

“Yes, she’s still working,” 

But that was the extent of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-I think my water just broke," 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alfie I-”

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

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

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

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

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

Their eyes brightened up. 

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

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

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

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

"(Y/n)," She whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking Christ!" You shouted.

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

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

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

"She's here," 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only if she agrees," She noted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can't John," 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi! How are you doing?

I've never made inquiries before. Could you write about the Thomas' daughter's allergy to tobacco? A strong cough and watery eyes when someone nearby smokes, which began from the first days of her life

I hope it won't bother you. Love your writing💗

Dear Anon,

You could never bother me love! Thank you for saying you love my stuff <3 hopefully, you enjoy this too! Thanks for writing in and for waiting!

Warnings: Mentions of difficult birth, Lizzie being ill, lots of tension, happy ending peaky related themes.

Allergies

He looked down at the little bundle of blankets. A small pudgy ball protruded from the top of it and Thomas wondered how something could look so new and yet so old at the same time. She was a darling little girl who had a shocking resemblance to a red, puffy, Whinston Churchill. Then he remembered what John, Ada, and Finn had looked like when they were born. Just as small and wrinkled. Thinking of where she had just come from it made sense.

Panic shot through him as he thought about Lizzie. He pushed those emotions down and tried to focus on his daughter. Again the fear of knowing she might be the only thing left of his family caused his stomach to lurch. Her eyes opened and she glared up at him. 

“You look squished, but you're still the prettiest girl I have ever seen.” He whispered. She seemed to take comfort in his voice and he realized he should probably pick her up and hold her. Poor thing should be stuck to her mother’s side. He picked her up and enjoyed the way she wiggled against him. 

She had no idea who her father was, only that he was her father and that she was safe there. For a moment Thomas was grateful he had been one of the older boys in the family. Being with children was not difficult for him. 

He walked over the windows and looked out at the dark sky. 

“Your mum is a tough lady, eh? Don't have to worry, she’ll come back.” He said in a low voice, was it to comfort the baby or himself, he wasn't sure. Feeling the heaviness in his heart threaten to take over he reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette with his free hand. 

He took a long drag feeling the smoke pull him together. He blew the smoke over his shoulder away from the baby. 

Looking back outside he heard a little cough. He looked down at her and was engulfed with that mixed feeling of pity and the urge to laugh. 

Her little red face was even redder and her eyes were glassy as she started to cough. Thomas wasn't sure what had caused it for a half second till he brought the cigarette back to his lips to hold her with both hands. 

“Fuck.” He said in a defeated tone. To confirm his suspicion he blew a small puff closer to her only for her to erupt into a coughing fit which she started to fight to breathe. Panic shot through him knowing all too well what that feeling felt like. Before flashes of the war could break into his mind he quickly put the cigarette out and brought her over to the window opening it. He rocked her back and forth and eventually, she settled against his chest. 

No smoke. He thought about how often a cloud of smoke followed him. It was as apart of him as his own shadow. How on earth was he to manage this? Remembering how scary the sound of her breathing was he have to figure it out. 

He’d promised Lizzie and Pol no more liquor but now he’d have to ditch smoking too. A flare of frustration ran through him. The whole situation was a big mess from day one. His thoughts became harsh and only broke when he looked down at the center of all his problems. 

The center of all his problems, and his entire universe. Guilt poured over him like cold water. It had been a long and uncertain birth, and now Lizzie was somewhere broken. 

Broken and unreachable. She was in the hands of the doctors now. He held his little daughter closely and watched her eyes flutter as he said a prayer for his new wife. 

______________________

Polly was irritated. She wasn't asked to attend the birth which was fine, but she wasn't sure how much support Lizzie would have gotten from Thomas and the hospital staff. 

Hospitals were places for death and sickness, not for bringing life into the world. Too many lost souls wandering around. She sighed and gave up waiting. Picking up the phone she dialed the hospital. 

The news she expected came through clearly over the receiver. Close family was now able to come and visit, except they clearly didn't think to call her to tell her everyone was okay. 

Polly threw on her coat and stepped out in the brisk early morning air. Arriving at the room and looking around she could see that everything was certainly not okay. 

Thomas’s hair was striking up from his fingers running through it. He was pacing the messy room with a small bundle attached to his shoulder. Coming into the room she walked up behind him and saw the dark blue eyes of her niece peering over his shoulder. 

Thomas turned and almost walked right into her jumping out of his skin. No one had ever been able to sneak up on him before. She wasn't sure what to say till she realized that Lizzie, nor her things, were in the room. Her heart wrenched but seeing the fright in Tom’s eyes she pulled herself together. 

“Fuck sake scared the life out of me.” He grumbled quietly.

“Sorry, love.” She said kindly, in a tone she hadn't used since he was small. “Do you want me to take her for a moment? Have you eaten?” She started fussing over him and was grateful that he had accepted her help. 

She took her niece and tears prickled in her eyes. 

“Lizzie is going to be alright.” His voice was tight. “She’s going to be in recovery for a few days though. When she wakes up we can take her over.” He looked out the window to avoid Polly’s gaze. 

“Are you alright?” She asked hesitantly not wanting him to snap in front of the baby. 

“She’s too small, she won't take a bottle but she’s hungry, and she’s allergic to smoke.” The last part caused the edges of her mouth to curl. The image of Thomas being up all night without drinking or smoking was not something she thought would ever be a reality. 

“Pol Im serious she gets really ill - her lungs just” His voice caught again and he went back to staring out the window. 

“I’m not laughing.” She said calmly. “I’ll have some people go the house to air the place out.” This seemed to make him relax a little. 

Just then she started to cry out, Thomas automatically reached out for her and then relaxed when Polly waved him off. Poor thing was hungry and Pol was grateful she came out as round as she did. She had enough on her to wait a while for Lizzie’s milk to come in. 

She brought the bottle to her lip and laughed as she stopped crying to glare up at her. 

“You look just like your da.” The baby’s face stayed just as stony when a nurse came through to tell them that Lizzie was up and requesting them. 

She followed Thomas anxious to look over Lizzie and make sure they had done a good job with her. 

Her dark eyes greeted them. Her face was puckered from an argument and Thomas had never been happier to see someone in his life, this Polly was sure of. 

She looked shocked, eyes wide as Thomas bent down to hold her tightly. She gave Polly a look and it took a lot to keep from laughing again. 

“Here she is now.” Pol brought the babe over and moved to the chair in the far corner of the room. She said a prayer thankful that their little family had made it through the night. Her prayer was interrupted by Lizzie's voice.

“What do you mean I can’t smoke?!” Lizzie hissed at Thomas and Pol got worried they would scare the babe. “Bring the doctor in I’m going to cut him myself.” 

“It’s not you, it’s her. She’s allergic. Gets really sick - Her lungs - You can’t - she just-” His voice was wavering again and Pol was relieved that Lizzie registered that he was scared for the little girl. 

“Oh, she was ill?” Now Lizzie’s voice was worried.  

“Yeah, but I caught it quickly.” He reassured her. “Pol is going to get people to clean the house and air it out.” 

“Oh, no. Tom.” Her voice got high and she clutched the little girl tightly. “It must have been a horrible night.” 

“No, no it was nice. She’s excellent company. Just glad you are alright.” He put on a brave face and Pol had hope that this experience would only bring them closer. 

She had cleaners go through the house and brought them food. Surprised that Thomas took the time off work to stay by Lizzie for her recovery. The family struggled at first but adapted to smoking outside. 

It was a curse till she was a teenager, in which Tommy rejoiced knowing it kept her far away from pubs, parties, and nightlife. Not to mention if she had friends over to play or for sleepovers they had to come to their smoke-free house. If a boy wanted to take her out for dinner, they ended up eating alone in the kitchen at the house as restaurants were no better than pubs. 

(Unfortunately, the only boy in all of England that didn’t smoke happened to be the son of Alfie Solomons)

(Hehehehe can’t help but sneak that pairing into everything I write)

Hope you enjoyed it love! <3

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Bad men like me

Tommy comforts baby Ruby

Tommy paced Ruby's nursery bouncing her and cooing at her. Begging her softly to sleep. Ruby seemed to be a better sleeper then Charlie when he was a baby. Tonight she was making an exception. 

To be fair, he hadn’t had as much to do with Ruby, and unlike Charlie, she only lived here part time still living full time with mom in her own home. She wasn’t as used to her dads comfort as her mothers. 

��Oh, you're going to give me fits eh. As long as you give all the bad men in your life fits, you’ll do just fine.” He stood watching the moonlight flicker over the courtyard. He looked down at her, studying her cute little face. Her dark hair framed her dark brown eyes and she squinted at him.

“Do you know what?” He turned her to face him, still bouncing gently in his arms. “ Stay away from all the bad men, yeah. You go off, find a nice wealthy man who won't beat you, spoils you with love and affection, and you live a good life eh.” 

Ruby retorted by sneezing and spitting out tiny bubbles at him. She must have disagreed. Definitely a Shelby woman in the making.

“Well with that attitude I think you’ll be fine.” Tommy turned walking closer to the fireplace hoping the warmth would soothe her to sleep.

“So whose attitude does she get that from?” Lizzie asks from the door frome casually leaning watching the soft scene of father and daughter bonding playing out in front of her. 

“Her mother, wholeheartedly.” Tommy shot back playfully. He scoffed but smirked at her.

“Thanks, she honestly gets it on both sides. She'll be alright Tom. Here.” Lizzie crossed the room and reached out her hands to him asking for Ruby back. She felt bad that he didn’t sleep well. 

“Lizzie, you are always fussing at me that I don't spend enough time with her. I'm up anyway. Go back to bed.” He hadn’t meant for his tone to sound like an order, that was clearly how she’d taken it though. Her perfect brows were arched high, not amused at all.

“If you really want to be awake fine, don't hold her all night though Tom. She'll get used to it and then I’ll give you hell.” He shook his head as Ruby's mother retreated back into the hallway presumably her room. 

“We’ll be fine won't we Rub? You’ll be a good girl. You’ll see. No bad men in your future.” He sat down in the chair and held her close, grateful for her big baby yawn. 

They were both sleeping peacefully shortly after. 

[sl-newsie]

Attention fans of American Woman!

I need your input! Should I write the ending I originally had planned for Verena and Thomas, or should I wait to write a more accurate one when the movie comes out?

Please let me know!

@meadows5

[kmhappybunny240]

The French Nurse

Chapter 3

Tommy finally went home close to midnight after crying in Polly arms. It felt like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He thought seriously about what Polly said and decided to start with a letter. He didn't think he would send it but if writing down years worth of pain, anger, and heart break would help then he would do it. It might even stop the dreams.

When he entered the house most of the lights were off. Only a few dim lights lit the hallways so he could see. Tommy decided to sleep downstairs on the other side of the house in a small guest room. It was more for the servants but he didn't care. He just wanted to be left alone and didn't want to talk to Grace till the morning. He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and got under the covers. Tommy just laid their trying to turn off his brain. All he wanted was sleep. As he was drifting off he could hear the floor creek and faint humming. Tommy froze and kept his eyes closed. It could be Grace but she didn't know that song. Only one person knew that song.

He felt the bed dip on the left side and a warm hand touch his.

"Mon amour pourquoi es-tu si tendu? "

(My love why are you so tense)

He felt her hand caressed his face. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip. It felt wonderful. He hasn't had this experience since he stopped smoking opium . He missed this so much. He never wanted it to end. Tommy opened his eyes and there she was illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window. She was beautiful. Her long hair was down to the middle of her back. He had always loved it that way. She had a white silk night gown on that accentuated her breasts. She just smiled at him. There was worry in those brown eyes of hers. She knew something wasn't right with him.

"Its been so long since you've conjured me up. Why now?"

It was an obvious question with an obvious answer but he couldn't speak. He just stared at her.

" If you want me Tom then come and get me. You know where I am. Nothing can stop you. Thomas Shelby can take whatever he wants. "

"I didn't get you." was all Tommy could say.

"S’il vous plaît mon amour venez me trouver, j’ai besoin de vous tout autant que vous avez besoin de moi"

(Please my love come and find me. I need you just as much as you need me)

Olivia leaned in and gave Tommy a passionate kiss. Tommy leaned back so he could breath. She had the biggest smile on her face. He just held her.

"Go to sleep my love. "

Tommy just held her and fell asleep. It was so relaxing. He dreamt of Olivia and him in an old cottage on the country side. Sitting in front of a fire with a few kids running around the room. This was the life he wanted. This was the woman he really wanted. When Tommy woke the sun was up . He slept all through the night, which was a first in a very long time. No nightmares no night sweats. He actually felt refreshed. He got out of bed and dressed himself. He didn't want to see Grace right now but he had to shower and get clean clothes. He went to their bedroom and slowly opened their door. Thankfully it was just the maid in the room changing the sheets.

"Good morning Mr. Shelby. Ms Burgess just went down for breakfast."

That's good. Tommy could ignore her for just a little while longer.

"Thank you May. Please bring some breakfast to my office. I will be in there in about thirty minutes."

" yes Mr.Shelby. "

Tommy got into the steaming shower and washed the previous night away. Olivia was so real. He could feel her smooth soft skin. He could smell the faint lavender she always smelled like. Her lips were the same as he remembered. He held her while he fell asleep and the dream was so real too. That was the life he wanted. Those thoughts were very dangerous for Tommy. He had Grace and was going to build a very long life with but Olivia was also right. He could have what ever he wanted. He felt that urge to call Peter and ask for Olivia number. He felt like she needed him even after all these years. Tommy got out of the shower and dried off. He went to the sink and prepared to shave. He looked at himself in the mirror.

"Get it together you fool. She is in France and doesn't need you. She wasn't real . Stop this and move on." Tommy told himself. If he had to look into the mirror every morning and tell himself that than he would. He has to move on with Grace. If he didn't then all of this would be a waste of time. He didn't want to admit that Polly was still right about Grace. He put so much on the line for her, he didn't want to fail. Tommy made his way to his office and locked the door. He didn't care how long it took he was going to write that letter .

"Tu es sûr e de vouloir me laisser partir ?"

(You're sure you want to let me go)

Tommy looked up and saw Olivia. She looked just like she did in the picture Peter took. Simply beautiful .

" I have no choice. I have to let you go. I'm starting to lose my mind. It hurts to much to think or see you. "

"tu as toujours le choix il suffit de suivre votre coeur."

(You always have a choice just follow your heart.)

Tommy just ignored her and wrote . He wrote till sundown. His hand hurt and so did his eyes. He felt better when he finished the letter. It was five pages. He would be going to london soon with Grace and his family. He would hand the letter over to Peter to mail and then be done with his past . He could just move on .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grace was relieved to get the call from Polly that Tommy was all right and on the way home. Her relief quickly turned to anger. How dare he just get up and leave her like that. She desperately needed to find out what triggered Tommy. She went to his office and looked around. She opened drawers, looked through all of his papers on the desk. She had to know. She got to the bottom drawer when headlights flashed through the windows. She quickly put everything back into place and ran upstairs to their bedroom. She listened and faintly heard the front door slam shut and nothing else. Grace opened the bedroom door and tip toe to the staircase to see Tommy walking towards the other side of the house. Of course he was sleeping down there and ignoring her once again. She wasn't gonna put up with his shit. In the morning she would confront him and get to the bottom of his behavior. She had gotten this far and she was so close to the finish line . She wasn't going to fail. She had to marry Tommy it's what she deserved.

It was breakfast time and still no Tommy. She held on her fork so tight she almost bent it. That's it she was done. She got up and stormed out of the dinning room. She noticed one of the kitchen girls taking a tray towards Tommy office.

"What are you doing with that tray." Grace snapped at the poor girl. She was startled and almost dropped the it.

"Mr. Shelby requested to eat his breakfast in his office ma'am."

"Do you know where he is now?"

" Upstairs ma'am "

Grace rolled her eyes and quickly hurried upstairs to their bedroom. She opened the door and heard the shower turning off. She took a minute to compose herself and put on her best worried look. As she went to open the bathroom door she heard him talking. It was muffled but she could make out she is in France and doesn't need you. What in the hell did that mean. Who was in France and who is she. Grace went to her side of the room where her closet is and hid while Tommy came out of the bathroom to his closet. She watched through the crack of the door while Tommy went back into the bathroom with his clothes. She quickly got out of there and headed back to her breakfast. Grace was seething on what she heard. How could this be happening . She honestly didn't think Tommy would cheat on her but now she had major doubt. The only women she knew of was Lizzie and May but they aren't in France. This all happened after his meeting with that Peter guy.

It was like a cold bucket of water was dumped on Grace. It suddenly hit her . Only one woman from France Tommy knew and it was Olivia. The woman who Tommy called out for during the night. The woman who was just a friend during the war. He supposedly hasn't seen her in years. This was bad. Tommy was dreaming and calling out to her. That meant she meant and still means more to him than a friend. Dear Lord what is she gonna do now. That woman is out there and poses a threat to her relationship to Tommy. There is absolutely no way she was going to let some past love ruin her happy life. Grace just sat at the table and tried to form a plan. When they go to London she would get Peter alone and ask about Olivia. She was also going to contact some old friends in Ireland to dig into the woman past. She didn't want to return to her spy ways but she was left with no choice. She had to be very careful in case Tommy or any other family member found out. If they did then surely she would be cast out of England and never see Tommy again. She also had to get pregnant before the wedding. Grace didn't care if she had to get him drunk and tie him to the bed. She was going to be all over him all the time. This was her future and no one was going to fuck with it.

~~~~~~~~ LONDON~~~~~~~~

It was a sunny Saturday morning and Olivia just laid in bed. She was waiting for her usual wake up call. She was bone tired by the time Friday rolled around and was excited to have a relaxing day with oscar. She had to work in almost all of the departments . Monday and Tuesday she helped deliver babies. Wednesday was spent in the operating room, which was a highlight of the week. Thursday she spend in the children's ward. Friday was very interesting. Olivia was asked to stitch up a man. She was a little annoyed that she was pulled away from going home early just to put stiches in until she met the patient. When Olivia entered the room the junior nurse was cowering in the corner and on the verge of tears. The girl ran out of the room and Olivia quickly introduced herself to the man and got to work. Right as she was threading the needle she heard the man grumble in a different language. Yiddish from what little she understood. He called her something that sounded like French tramp and that really ticked her off.

She looked up and fully took him in. This man looked and grumbled like a bear. He had a scruffy beard and blue eyes. He was well built and his hands looked rough. He had several rings on and a small tattoo near his thumb. It was a black crown. She didn't know what it stood for but it was obvious he was a criminal , most likely in a gang. She looked him directly in the eyes and told him off.

"If you have a problem sir let me know. I can stop the stitching and you can walk right out." She poked the cheek wound for emphasis. He growled.

" Or I can fix you right up and have you on your way in no time. It's your choice. "

He stared at her like he was dumbfounded. He apparently hasn't had many people stand up especially a woman.

"You speak yiddish?"

" I understand some. Enough to know an insult. I suggest you shouldn'tcall me a French tramp when I'm about to close your facial wound with a very sharp needle. If I'm not careful you could have a very ugly scar. "

"Mmhhhmm." Was all he said. That was Olivia's cue to get to work. She was half way done when he spoke again.

" The only French women I have known were whores. "

"Well I'm not one. I've have worked very hard to get where I am. I'm assuming you fought in the war. That's why you know French women as only whores."

" Yea I fought. All of England did. I was in Paris once. Beautiful city and wonderful brothels too. "

She tugged on the thread a little to sharply after the comment. She quickly finished and put a small bandage on it.

" I'm all done. Keep the bandage on for twenty-four hours and keep dry for the next week. If any problems please get medical attention. An infection can get nasty very fast. "

As Olivia cleaned up she heard the man clear his throat. She turned around and he looked like he wanted to say something.

"You were a nurse over there weren't you."

Olive took a breathe. She didn't think he would take the moment to observe that. His face was very solemn and remorseful.

" Yes I was. My brother and parents also served in the medical field. "

He stuck his hand out.

"Thank you for helping me . I do apologize for insulting you miss."

Olivia was a little stunned by this. She stuck her hand out to shake his.

"You're welcome. I was just doing my job and thank you for apologizing Mr?"

" It's Alfie Solomon's but you can just call me alfie. "

"Alright Alfie. I'm Olivia. Now remember what I said. If anything goes wrong please see someone. I work week days so I can help if you want."

Alfie smiled at her and tipped his hat at her.

"Shalom miss Olivia ."

She smiled back and cleaned up. He was an odd fellow but for some reason she wanted to get to know him. He seemed like a man who was full of stories. He was obviously a gangster and she shouldn't want to be friends with him but she couldn't help it. Olivia chalked it up to being lonely. She had only been in London for two months now and hadn't made very many friends. She was friendly with her fellow nurses and her neighbors but the only real constant friend she had in the city was Peter. She was grateful and loved him dearly but she wished that she knew more people. There was a small part of her that wanted to hop on a train and visit Birmingham but was not ready for that at all .

Olivia rolled over and saw eight- fifteen on the clock. The alarm was running a bit late. She finally heard the hall floorboards creek and the door open. She closed her eyes and tried not to smile when she felt the bed dip. She felt a tiny hand on her shoulder and hot breathe in her ear.

"I know you're up mama."

Olivia jolted up and grabbed Oscar. He was howling with giggles as she covered his face with kisses and set him in her lap. He put his arms around her neck and gave a few kisses back.

"How could you know I was up? I was under the covers with my eyes closed."

" You are always up before me mama. " Oscar was starting to wiggle out of Olivia lap and started towards the door.

" We have to get ready mama it's a big day. We get to see horses with uncle Peter. "

Olivia grinned at how excited he was. Peter was taking them to a stable at the edge of town. It was hard leaving her horses back home in France but she really had no where to put them. She could put them up in a stable but the transportation and weekly coverage of their stay would cost too much. She was also worried they wouldn't be treated kindly. The horses always made Olivia calm and peaceful. It made her feel close to Tommy too. She knew Oscar would take to them instantly since it was in his blood. She remembers the stories Tommy told her of him traveling with his romani side. How much his eyes lit up talking about the fairs he went to as a kid. The horse races he had with his brothers and cousins. He felt truly free traveling. She can see that in Oscar. He was always on the run from dawn till dusk. He threw tantrums when he was made to go back inside. When one of the mares gave birth Oscar stayed with her all day. He cried when the new foal was born. He personally over saw the care of the new horse and had so much love and pride in his eyes. She knew that was all Tommy. Hopefully one day Oscar will meet Tommy and his family. It would be a wonderful thing to see him in his true identity. A Shelby .

Olivia got ready quickly. She wore trousers and a white shirt. Wearing trousers wasn't consider lady like but she didn't care much. There was no way she was going to ride a horse in a dress. She wasn't going to sit side saddle either. Olivia tried a few times as a child but slipped out of the saddle and was almost trampled by the horse. She thought is was ridiculous that society saw women as inferior fragile creatures who should only stay home. She knew not many men could stomach her job as a nurse. They couldn't stomach having to bleed every month. They certainly couldn't handle giving birth. She wanted to change her male pier minds but most of them were stuck in their ways. She vowed to teach her son differently. She wanted to make sure Oscar felt that women were very much equal to men. She held done a job while being a single mother. That was something she wanted her son to be proud of.

Within the hour they were off to Peter's. Oscar was bouncing in the backseat of the car. Thankfully when they arrived Peter was waiting for them outside.

"Good morning . I hope you are excited for today's activities."

" IT'S HORSE RIDING DAY!!!! " Oscar exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

"Pas si fort mon ange."

(Not so loud sweetheart.)

"Désolé maman , mais je suis si heureuse."

( Sorry mama, but I am just so happy .)

Olivia looked in the rear view mirror and smiled at how happy he was.

"Du solltest den Jungen leicht machen. Du weißt, dass Pferde in seinem Blut sind. Genau wie sein Vater.

(You should go easy on the boy. You know horses are in his blood. Just like his father.) Peter said with a little wickedness in his eyes. He knew he was pushing olivia's buttons with mentioning Tommy. He kinda had to now since his meeting with him. Peter knew the secret would be out soon. He could feel it.

Olivia rolled her eyes as hard as she could. Peter always encouraged the Shelby traits in Oscar when they came out. She had to curve it because he still had to have manners. She knew his stubbornness came from Tommy. Oscar was also getting smarter everyday. That came from both parents but his sneaky cleverness came from his father. That scared her. She didn't want him to be to smart for his own good.

"Er muss sich um seine Manieren kümmern. Sprich auch nicht vor ihm über Tommy . Nicht in irgendeiner Sprache."

(He needs to mind his manners. Also don't talk about Tommy in from of him. Not in any language.)

"Es ist wahr und du weißt es"

(Its true and you know it.)

"Maman, tu as dit que ćétait grossier de parler derrière quelqu'un dans une autre langue."

(Mama, you said it was rude to talk behind someone's back in another language.)

Peter laughed loudly but tried to cover it with a cough. That boy was certainly a Shelby.

"Alright everyone speaks English from now on. No more secret conversations." Olivia said sternly . Thankfully Oscar began to prattle on about the week he had. Peter enjoyed the conversation with Oscar because he had to tell Olivia about his meeting with Tommy a few weeks ago. He was saving that towards the end of the trip. He prayed that she would flip out.

After an hour of driving they arrived at the estate. It was a very classy yet homie place. It was owned by some Lord and had been in his family for many generations. There was a manor you could stay at over night and a lovely restaurant that over looked a magnificent garden and green house. The stables housed some of the world's top racing horses. It was an exclusive place to get into and a person could be in the waiting list for years. Of course it was Peter who got them in. It helps to befriend a judge and a few parliament members to get in.

Oscar flew out of the car once they stopped. Olivia went to grab him. She turned him around to face him.

"I know you're excited but you can't run off like that . Now stay with me and uncle Peter . We are going to eat a little breakfast before we ride."

" But we already ate some biscuits at the house. I want to ride now ! " Oscar made his displeasure known with a stomp and a pout. Oscar knew better than to throw a fit but he couldn't help it. He was only five years old. He wanted to ride now.

Olivia knelt down to his eye level.

"We will be here most of the day and I know you petit ami. You will ignore your grumbling tummy just to keep ridding as long as possible. Now we don't want you to go hungry now do we?"

" No I guess not. " Oscar said with a long sigh. Olivia and Peter couldn't hold back their smiles. The little guy was truly his father. She stood up and grabbed Oscar 's hand to walk into the manor. They were quickly greeted by the concierge and escorted to the sunroom for breakfast.

They ate a proper English breakfast. Olivia had to tell Oscar to slow down a few times so he wouldn't choke. He was practically vibrating with excitement when they finished and went towards the stables.

"Its good to see you Mr. DuBois." Alfred Pennyworth said to the little boy. Alfred ran the stables . He enjoyed the little boy's company . Alfred had been in charge of the Wayne manor stables for over 20 years and Oscar was truly his favorite child to of worked with. He wouldn't be surprised if he ended up working at the manor when he was older. "Hello Alfred . It's a wonderful day to ride isn't it."

All the adults smiled and laughed a bit.

" We have your usual horses ready to go. " Alfred said as they walked into the stables. Olivia hung back a little watching Oscar talk the men's ears off. She was startled by a kick in a stall door. She paused and saw a true beauty. A large black horse was huffing at her. She walked towards him and put out her hand. It walked forward and sniffed her. That brought a smile to Olivia's lips. Something in the horse's eyes felt familiar and calming. It was odd to her that she instantly thought of Tommy. She stroked his muzzle when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"He is a beaut isn't he?" Alfred said.

" He most certainly is. What is his name? "

"Mahogany boy. He is a retired race horse from Birmingham. His owner donated him. We are training him to work with disabled children and veterans and It's not just horses. They provide dogs for the blind and also send in dogs to visit sick children in the hospital. It's a wonderful charity that Lord Wayne started. "

It warmed her heart to hear that someone with Lord Wayne's money and status put it to good use and helped people in need. Olivia also got the urge to volunteer in the charity. What ever she could help with she wanted to.

"Alfred is there any chance I could ride him instead of mercy." She gave him the biggest smile and puppy eyes she could. There was just something about the horse.

"If you are sure. I can have him saddled up in a few minutes." Alfred wasn't to sure about taking him out but he had done well the last few times . Alfred couldn't say no to Olivia either. She looked like she was in love with him. He was quickly saddled and the group was off. Oscar was riding an older docile horse named lemon drop. She was an Appaloosa and Oscar adored her. Peter was riding Lemon drop sister Athena. He really wasn't a horse person and wasn't a very good rider but he decided to bite the bullet a while ago because it ment spending time with Olivia and Oscar. Peter didn't have much family left so he adopted Olivia as a sister and her son as a nephew. All he needed was for Tommy to marry Olivia and then he would have a brother in law.

Olivia was amazed at how powerful she felt on top of Mahogany boy. It was a calm power. Like she could ride into a city and take it over. All she needed was armour and a sword. Then she would be a warrior queen from the bed time stories Oscar loves so much. When the group started to pick up speed on the horse trail she could feel he wanted to run. There was a quiet ferociousness to him that was just like Tommy. A dangerous beauty. A large field came into view and Olivia made mahogany boy speed up. She could hear Oscar giggles and Peter whistle. Soon they were all racing to the end of the field. It was a major rush of adrenaline and felt incredible. She was disappointed to reach the end of the field. All she wanted was to keep running. Peter stopped next to her and then under the watchful eye of Alfred , Oscar trotted along with a giant grin on his face. What would make this moment perfect is Tommy being here .

"Oh mama that was so much fun. Can I ride with you mama. Please please please." Oscar pouted his lips as he begged his mother. He wanted so badly to ride with her. That would be the biggest horse he has ever ridden. Olivia wasn't too sure about it but since he would be in front of her she didn't see why not.

"Alright sweet heart come here." She grabbed him to sit in front and made sure he was secure . Alfred held on to lemon drop reigns and they slowly headed back to the stables. It was a leisurely stroll that had Oscar asking to go faster every few minutes. Once the stables were in view , mahogany boy sped up a little. Oscar was having the time of his life . They reached the stables and dismounted. When Olivia reached for her son she could tell he was a little disappointed that the ride was over. Back in France she would let him stay outside with the horses all day but here in England that wasn't possible. Olivia planned to look for country home soon. She wanted to wait a year of being in London before she bought anything. She didn't plan on moving them there permanently but it would be nice for a weekend home. Olivia had a nice nest egg saved up and felt ok with splurging a bit for a good home.

"Do I have to get down ? I really don't want to." Oscar pleaded with his mother. Before she could answer the stables hand Billy did.

"I can take him in the rink ma'am. He will be safe with me" Billy told her. Olivia wasn't sure but she had seen Billy ride and it looked like he knew what he was doing. Peter came up to Olivia , grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her to the fences area.

"Come on mum let the boy have some. We can watch from here." Peter wanted Olivia to loosen up a little and this would also be a good time to tell her about Tommy .

"Alright but sweet heart you listen and pay attention to Billy." She was worried but they not on her son's face was worth it. They entered the rink and and were galloping . Olivia and Peter leaned against the fence and just watch.

"He should be here. He should be the one up there with his little boy." A wave of melancholy hit Olivia . They were so close to Tommy and yet so far away at the same time.

"Do you think he would hate me ? I didn't go to Birmingham like I promised. I've kept his son from him. I've made such a mess of this." Olivia bowed her against the fence and held back the tears. If she did seek out Tommy would he even want to see her?

Peter hated seeing Olivia beat herself up. He had to tell her.

"Tommy still loves you Liv. Yes he would be hurt and angry but he would understand. That's his flesh and blood. One thing I know about the Shelby's is that they would never hate Oscar or turn him away." Peter turned to look at Oscar laughing and having the time of his life. He sighed and decided to tell her.

" Tommy hired me a few weeks ago to find you. "

Olivia eyes went wide and her face went pale.

" Oh dear God " Olivia whispered in horror. Peter grabbed her by the shoulders so she would face him.

"All Tommy knows is that you have become successful in your career and that you still live in France with your family. I didn't tell him about Oscar or that you are now in England."

It was hard for Olivia to focus on what Peter was saying. All she was thinking about was that Tommy now knew about them and could take her son away from her.

"Alright Liv focus on me. Take deep breathes and focus on me." She did what he said and took deep breathes to calm down. She settled after a few minutes.

" Tommy doesn't know you had his child and he doesn't know you are here in England. He just wanted to know if you were still alive. Ok . I never told him. " Peter held her face in both hands. He saw how scared she was. He could read her just like he could Tommy.

"He still loves you Liv. I could see it. You will always have a place in his heart. I know you're scared but nothing is going to happen unless you wanted it to ."

Olivia gently removed his hands from her face and wiped the few tears that ran down her cheeks. Her emotions were all over the place. She knows he would never sell her out or out her into harms way. But there was something nagging in the back of her mind. What if Tommy didn't believe Peter. What if he showed up on her door step or at her work. Olivia didn't think she could ever face him but maybe this was the push she needed.

"Is Tommy happy with his fiance?" It was a question she didn't want to ask but had to.

" Yes he seems to be but I'm not very sure about her something is off. Why do you ask? " Peter didn't know where this was going.

"If he is truly happy I don't want to blow up his life. I know that it's the right thing to tell him but what if he doesn't want us. I'm so scared that he wouldn't want anything to do with Oscar or he would be in his life out of obligation. They don't deserve to go through life being father and son simply because they have too. Oscar deserves a father's love."

"He will love Oscar with his whole heart I can promise you that. As for Grace , I can also promise that if she isn't accepting of Oscar then Tommy won't put up with that. You won't be blowing up his life. You would be bringing him joy. Tommy has been so broken since coming back. Well all have. I know that he would cherish every day he was able to have with his son." Peter took a breathe and realized where this was going.

" You want to tell Tommy don't you. "

"I have moved to London at the same time Tommy has decided to find me. Maybe it's God way of telling me I need to see him again and for Tommy and Oscar to me." Olivia felt like a brick was lifted off her chest. It was time for them to meet. She couldn't deprive any more time from her son. If Tommy rejected him then she would simply run his ass over . As much as she loves Tommy her son comes first and she would do anything to protect him.

"Would you set a meeting up for me and be there please?"

" of course I will help in any way you want me to. " Peter was so happy. Tommy was going to have the family he always wanted with Olivia after all these years. Peter grabbed Olivia in a tight bear hug. As they were holding each other there was a sound off to the side. Olivia looked into the rink and it happened so suddenly and yet it was also slow motion. Mahogany boy was in distress. He was making terrible noises like he was scared and started rising in his back legs. Billy was the first to fall off with a loud yell. Then it was just little Oscar on the horse. He was screaming and holding on for dear life. Mahogany boy ran to the other side still bucking and then there was a loud thump. Oscar fell off and under the horse. There was a another loud guttural scream. Olivia didn't realize it came from her.

Olivia was in a complete haze when they got to the hospital. She doesn't remember picking up Oscar little unconscious body of putting him in the car. She doesn't remember running into the hospital for help. They made it there in record time and thankfully they went to her hospital. She knew he would be in good hands. By a miracle Oscar only had a dislocated shoulder , bruised ribs, and a bump on the back of his head. He had to stay in the hospital under observation for twenty-four hours. They gave him some pain medication which knocked him right out. That's why Olivia was kneeling next to his bed praying. Praying that her baby would remain in this state and no other injury would pop up over night.

Olivia had felt fear during the war and when she gave birth but what she felt today was a new feeling. It was pure and raw terror. When he went under the horse she thought he was going to be trampled. Olivia didn't know if she could survive something bad happening to him. He was her whole world. When she went into labor she almost bled to death. When she thinks back to that day it breaks her heart to think she might of not gotten a chance to be a mother. He truly saved her life. Oscar was her purpose. He gave her so much hope .

Olivia got up with a grunt. Her knees hurt from kneeling but didn't care. Oscar was sleeping soundly and alive. That's all she cares about. He was going to be just fine. She sat on the bed and stroked his hair. He looked so much like his father. If she hadn't decided earlier than she would have now. Life was short and Tommy needed to know his son.

"Quand je marche dans la rue

La rue vers le Sacré-Cœur

Je me souviens de promesses

Au nom de l'amour

Je,je vais t'attendre lá

Viendras -tu pour moi?

Je vais t'attendre lá

Seulement toi

Olivia was singing her favorite song. The she used to sing to Tommy. When they got some time alone at night he would lay his head on her chest. Olivia would sub her fingers through his hair. It helped him sleep. He said her voice and heart beat was the only thing that kept the noises out. He didn't fear Germans were in the other side of the wall when he was in her arms. Olivia wanted to keep him in his arms and protect him forever. She knows she is not able to do that for Tommy but she is for Oscar.

" Les ombres grandissent

Et les foules s'effacent

Je,je vais t'attendre lá

Viendras-tu pour moi?

Je vais t'attendre lá

Seulement toi

Seulement toi"

"Olivia?"

she was still singing and watching her boy. That's when she heard the voice again. Calling to her.

"Olivia Du Bois? " The voice said louder. She froze for a moment. That voice sounded familiar but it has been years. She stood and turned towards the door. The sun was starting to set and the light hit his face like a portrait. It felt like a fist was squeezing her heart. He looked different but she knew it was him. He had those damn blue eyes. Only one other person had them and he was laying in the bed asleep. She saw an older woman come in the room calling his name. Her feet started to move and was suddenly in front of him. She could tell he thought she was a ghost. She raised her hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. All she wanted was to kiss him.

"Yes Tommy it's me." Tears started to fall down her cheeks and he smiled. Then the older woman popped their bubble.

" Oh sweet jesus. This is the last fucking thing I need to deal with right now. "

[divinekangaroo]

Fic or just a thought, do you think Tommy could love Lizzie after (if) he comes back? For charlie?

take a pinch of keyhole and stand very still - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ambiguously post-S6-E6, after Tommy's return and before the full onset of WWII. Board Director Lizzie Stark's international tour.

.

I feel such an intense remorse for those years I can’t even breathe when I think about it.

Lizzie lit her cigarette on the flaming paper.

Around the whole fucking world. Everywhere, it’s still always you.

She smoothed a blank sheet.

And I think of you. I think of you.

She tried to start again.

I’m coming home.

.

More notes at the end of the fic. Thanks for the prompt! It was an intriguing exercise trying to work out how to answer a query like this with fic.

.

Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Elizabeth Younger-Thorne, Ada Thorne, Mentions of Arthur, Duke, Charles Shelby, Jessie Eden, Very Glancing Mentions of Oswald Mosley, Diana Mitford | Ruby Shelby Representation, Epistolary (Sort Of), Travelogue, Subtext, Post-Shadowing, Hoarding, Allusion to Global Events between 1934-1938, Trauma, Grief, Post-Canon, Loss, Bittersweet

[novashelby]

Can we all just stop being so aggressive with one another? I'm not going to pin it on one pro-ship or the other, but guys, our fandom is so small. Why do we have to get aggressive and jump down each other's throats over a ship? It has gotten to the point where we can't even state our opinions without getting attacked. TV is a form of art, and we are allowed to individually look at it and form our own interpretations. In such a small fandom, why can't we just be peaceful and understand this? I'm all up for debates, but they are hardly ever debates or conversations, but aggressive attacking. Not everyone has to like Tommy/Grace, not everyone has to like Grace, not everyone has to like Lizzie/Tommy, etc. But guess what? I promise you, you will survive knowing that not everyone likes your favorite character and/or ship.

In the great scheme of things, it's not that big. Yes, fandom and fanfiction are fun hobbies that may help us through dark times. But that being said, it isn't that deep in the sense that we have to be so fucking invested that you attack a REAL PERSON on the internet. Why are we like this? Seriously. If you are like that, honestly, go play outside. Go for a walk, please. Because like I said, in the great scheme of things, it's not that serious. It's suppose to be fun.

Peaky Blinders has lost a lot of it's fandom. I think it's best we just be civil to one another and accept opinions, even if it's not in line with our own.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk....

[hb-writes]

Little Lady Blinder - Chapter 33

Uncertainties, 1919

Also available here on ff net or here on AO3.

Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content

Clara startled awake to find she wasn’t at home in her own bed. She was sprawled out on John’s living room floor, her nieces and nephews all around her, a bundle of pillows and blankets spread out on the carpet. But it was quiet, the only sound in the house was the soft snoring of the kids…and some rustling up the stairs. 

Clara rubbed her eyes. There was light coming in through the windows, so it was morning, but early enough that the kids were still asleep. She wondered when or how she’d fallen asleep, and for how long. She felt rested for the first time in a long stretch. 

Whatever had happened, Clara certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep the night before. Lizzie and the kids had done a good job in distracting her for the day, but Clara and Tommy had plans so she had wanted to know as soon as they were back so she could get home and prepare. Clara had expected the worst after breakfast the day before, after what Joseph had said, but the day had gone rather smooth—an exhausting, whirlwind of activity, sure, but good day nonetheless. They’d gone to a children’s tea, played games on the way back, had a scavenger hunt and built a fort for the kids to pretend to sleep out in the living room. 

Clara had joined the kids in the fort once completed, but she hadn’t intended to stay over. She had a sleeping out of her own to prepare for, but she’d fallen asleep before the boys arrived home. She assumed it had just been very, very late by the time they all made it back to Small Heath. 

Because if something had gone wrong…well, Clara assumed someone would’ve woken her. That’s what she told herself at least. If John hadn't come home or if he’d been hurt, Lizzie would have woken her straightaway. And if it was someone else…well, John would have woken her. 

Clara was sure of it. 

She turned over in her makeshift bed when footsteps sounded on the top of the stairs, Lizzie’s soft giggle trailing down to her on the living room floor. Beside her, Clara saw Robbie’s eyes open, a sleepy smile on his little face. Clara held a finger to her lips and Robbie nodded, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep, letting out deep, exaggerated breaths. 

Clara waited for John and Lizzie to head out through the back before beckoning her nephew up. Together, the two of them traipsed over the sleeping bodies on their way to the kitchen. Lizzie’s basket was gone from the counter, but a few biscuits had been left behind on a plate in the center of the table. 

“Can we play again today?” Robbie asked, climbing up on a chair to take a biscuit. 

Clara shook her head. “Not today.”

Robbie deflated a bit in front of her. “Why not?”

“I have to go home. Uncle Tommy’s…” Clara considered it…why couldn’t Robbie come? It was meant to be just her and Tommy, but she figured he wouldn’t mind their nephew coming along. Robbie was the youngest, but he was never much trouble. Not compared to the rest of them, and Clara had enjoyed her time with him yesterday.

“I’m supposed to spend the day with Tommy, but maybe we can ask—”

“Mornin’,” John said as he came back through the door, mussing both kids’ hair as he reached out for a biscuit and leaned back against the counter.

“Lizzie said you lot behaved yourselves.” 

Clara considered that. She supposed that overall, the kids had behaved though Joseph had been short with the poor woman throughout the day.

“She especially likes you, mate,” John grinned as he looked at his son. 

“I like Lizzie,” Robbie said.

“Me too, mate.” John popped another biscuit in his mouth. “I’m going to get some more sleep. Don’t wake the others yet, yeah?”

Robbie stood up on the chair, reaching out for John and clasping his arm before he headed through the kitchen doorway. “Can I go with Clara today?”

John glanced at his sister. “You want him with you?”

Clara hesitated just a moment before nodding. “Can we go now?” 

John shrugged. “If you want. Should be late enough now that Aunt Pol won’t drag you two off to church.” 

And they could have a more substantial breakfast back home, Clara figured. A couple of biscuits weren’t fuel enough for an adventure like the one she had planned.

“Alright, mate," John said. "Go get dressed.” 

Robbie scooted off the chair.

“Something warm,” Clara added as he moved toward the door, leaving Clara and John alone. 

John pulled out a chair, sitting down beside her. 

“Thank you,” John said. “Lizzie had no complaints. Said you weren’t a grump, either.” 

John leaned to the side, fishing out his bill fold and setting a few notes on the table. 

“You did good,” he confirmed. 

Clara didn’t think she’d done much, though. It had been Lizzie who navigated all of the issues and tended to Robbie when he’d been upset. It was Lizzie who had done all the planning and the cooking and Clara had felt more that she was just along for the ride than that she had been especially responsible for helping with anything. 

Clara left the bills sitting on the table between them and turned to her. “How was the races?”

“Good,” John said, taking another biscuit.

“They went late,” Clara offered, the words somewhere between a question and a statement. “The races?”

“Nah," John shook his head as he chewed and swallowed the biscuit. "We were celebrating at the Garrison.”

“Arthur and Tommy, too?”

John shook his head again. “Just Arthur and the boys.” 

“Oh,” Clara nodded. 

“You know how Tommy is,” he offered, studying her response. 

Clara did know how Tommy was, but she still didn’t quite know what John meant. She didn't know what it meant that Tommy hadn't joined them in celebrating. She didn't know what it meant that he hadn't come to find her, either, and a bit of uncertainty curled into her stomach.

“You need me for anything else before you go?” 

Clara shook her head, already deep enough in her own thoughts that there was nothing John could do to help her, nothing Clara would allow him to do to help.  

“Alright then," John said as he stood up. "I’m back to bed before this lot wakes up. Go out through the back. Keep it down.” 

--

As Clara and Robbie walked back to the house, the boy talked non-stop about their day with Lizzie, chattering on and on, but Clara was busy packing her bag in her mind, trying to remember everything that they’d need, strategizing on how she’d ask her brother to let Robbie tag along. 

Clara imagined her brother was already awake. It wasn’t very early—already past the hour Charlie had offered to walk with her to the yard, and far past when Tommy usually elected to stay in his bed. 

Either way, they’d have to be quiet, and Robbie had to let her do the talking. Clara told him as much as she fumbled around for the hidden key, unlatching the back door and letting them both into the quiet of the kitchen. Clara directed Robbie to the sitting room out front, settling him on the couch before backtracking through the dining room to draw back the shop’s curtain. 

She pushed aside the very sudden thought that Tommy might be mad at her, that she was supposed to come back home from John’s last night to make sure there’d be no delay with their sleeping out, but the thought quickly vanished as the quiet stillness of the office took over her.

Clara passed her nephew in the parlor again, pressing a finger to her lips as she moved through the room and headed up the stairs. 

Tommy’s door was shut, all the doors in the hall were. It was normal these days for Ada’s to be shut, and Finn was sleeping later and later these days, but not Tommy. 

She knocked lightly on the wood, waiting a few seconds but hearing nothing, not even when she pressed her ear against the wood to listen. 

“He already left.” Clara spun on her heel at the voice, her heart pounding as a hand reached out to catch her before she stumbled. “Just ten minutes ago,” Isiah added as he stood in Clara’s now open doorway. 

Clara had questions—she wanted to know where Tommy went and she wanted to know why Isiah was in her bedroom—but both questions died on her lips when she spotted the cuts and bruising on Isiah’s face. 

Clara pushed her loose hair from her face, her fingertips brushing over the scar on her brow. 

“Just a scratch,” Isiah said, a cheeky grin on his face as he leaned back into the door frame. “Didn’t even need stitches.” 

Clara nodded, unable to pull her gaze properly away from Isiah’s face, her mind subconsciously looking for more evidence of injury. 

“You should see the other guy,” he said, nudging her.

“Is Finn—?”

“He's fine,” Isiah interrupted. “Passed out sleeping though.” 

Clara meant to ask after the others—after Tommy and Arthur, and her cousins and everyone else who’d gone off to Cheltenham yesterday, but Robbie appeared at the top of the stairs before she could voice any of it.

“Did you ask him yet?” Robbie asked, the excitement in his voice falling as Clara started shaking her head. 

“Maybe we’ll just play around the house instead,” Clara ventured. “...See if he comes back soon and then we’ll ask…or maybe we can see if Uncle Charlie’ll still have us...or…”

Clara’s mind was seeking alternatives, spurred on a bit by the frown on her nephew’s face, but her heart wasn’t in it, her problem solving hindered, clouded over, by the hurt and confusion and worry.

They’d made a plan. Tommy had promised no one would get hurt. And he’d promised they’d sleep out. They’d make a day of it. That’s what he’d said. Clara had been certain he would keep his word. Certain that her brother would come through. He'd promised.

“You can spend the day with me and Finn,” Isiah said, still leaning against the door frame as he watched his friend shifting through her thoughts.

The mere suggestion charged Robbie, a smile growing on his face, but Clara was slower to warm, cautious not of Isiah and his words. She knew it was an offer that she could trust, but of the idea of spending the day out with him and her brother unsettled her a bit. It had been a long time since Clara had passed one of her days out with the boys.

The boys tended to stray from home. They tended to cause trouble. Just days ago now Clara had been left dealing with her brother’s trouble and she wasn’t sure she wanted more. 

Clara had been doing her best to stay clear of all that. 

But Isiah was smiling at her, his eyes warm and bright as his eyebrows rose and fell a few times, the gesture taunting her as his smile reminded her what it was to pass a day by his side.

Clara huffed, just a quiet bit of resistance offered before she rolled her eyes, a quiet bit of curiosity stowed in her features. 

“What do you have planned?” she finally asked.

Isiah shrugged. He knew Clara was already hooked despite the hesitation she was putting on. It didn’t much matter what Isiah had to offer her, what his plans were for the day. Some part of Clara knew it would be far better than sitting around here wallowing and trying to entertain the nephew she’d brought along for the ride.

“Yesterday was payday,” Isiah said, reaching into his pocket and producing a sleek handful of money.

Since John had paid Clara, they were both flush with cash. Clara hadn’t even been expecting payment for helping out with the kids, but either way, the money was in her pocket. It was a gift that was certainly more than she had deserved, but John had been in a good mood and he was always generous when he was in a good mood. 

“We could go to the pictures,” Isiah said.

“But I don’t have any money,” Robbie whined. 

“That’s alright, mate,” Isiah answered. “Go wake Finn and I’ll spot you.” 

Robbie grinned, heading down the hallway without another word, and Isiah watched him go, waiting until turned into Finn’s bedroom before looking back to Clara. 

She was looking at her brother’s door, Tommy’s door. 

“He seemed in a hurry,” Isiah offered. “Something important.” 

Clara nodded, pushing her hurt down beneath the excuse Isiah offered on her brother's behalf. She didn't know if he had said the words to make her feel better or to protect her brother. Isiah didn't know wither.

Tommy hadn't left her a note. He clearly hadn't been even remotely concerned about her when he left, but Clara was already trying to move past Isiah to find some paper in her bedroom.

“We should leave them a—”

On the floor below, a key fit into the door that led in off the lane, cutting Clara off. She raced past Isiah, moving down half a flight of stairs before Polly stepped into view, removing her hat as she looked up the steps. 

“You missed a fine service,” Polly said. “Where’s your brother?” 

Clara was prepared to answer fully, giving her aunt an account of each and every Shelby boy. Finn was asleep in his bed. John was home with the kids. Tommy was…out. And Clara assumed Arthur was still down the lane, asleep in his own bed. She was tempted, but that answer sounded like she was being smart, even in her own head. And Clara knew who Polly was really asking after, anyway. 

“Isiah said he went out.” 

Polly nodded, her gaze moving to the boy who stood at the top step. “Something important, I suppose,” she said, though Clara had the distinct feeling that Polly had no idea why Tommy wasn’t home…wasn’t where she expected him to be. 

“And Finn?”

“He’s waking up,” Robbie said, venturing down the stairs and moving past Clara until he was within arms’ reach of Polly. “Isiah said I can go to the pictures with them. He’s gonna spot me.”  

Polly lifted the boy from the stairs, holding him on her hip for a moment. 

“And who said you four were going to the pictures?”

“We were gonna—” Clara started to explain her plan to leave a note. It wasn’t exactly aking permission, but it was something. 

“Tommy was supposed to take me and Clara to sleep out, but he’s not here so we’re going to the pictures instead.” 

Polly hummed, setting Robbie back on the steps as she studied her niece and the way she'd stayed quiet, letting the little boy provide the explanations. 

“Well, you’d best go have something to eat before you go,” Polly said, directing Robbie towards the kitchen. “Best go search the cupboards.”

Polly beckoned Clara down the last few steps. Clara trailed behind her aunt as she walked through the dining room and into the shop, heading straight for the safe. She lingered a few paces away as her aunt leaned down to lean inside. 

“No reason to take any money from that boy,” Polly said as she turned to hand Clara a small amount of money. “Family fund,” she added, as she guided Clara back through the shop.

“Can I have some?” Finn asked as he peeked his head around the curtains, a piece of bread and jam in his mouth. 

“Your sister can carry it,” Polly said as they stepped into the dining room where the boys were all eating. “And I want you four to stick together. You go straight to the theater and stay away from the Cut,” Polly continued. “You watch your nephew. And you listen to Isiah. He’s in charge.” 

Isiah beamed, but only for a minute, the smile on his face slipping away as Polly continued on.

“And if anything happens, you’ll deal with me,” she said, her gaze directed at Isiah. “Keeping out of trouble may be hard, but I’ll promise you Aunt Polly’s boot is harder. And find your father while you're out. Invite him to supper.” 

--

By the time the kids made it to the end of Watery Lane, Polly’s words were akin to a distant memory to the boys, with Finn and Robbie wandering off ahead without a care. Finn had already taken the money from Polly off his sister for safekeeping, and he was spouting off, directing what they’d be doing with their day without stopping to gather the opinions of those around him.

Clara hesitated before the door to number 6 went out of view, stilling on the cobblestone and making Isiah backtrack a few steps to stay with her. 

“What is it?” 

Clara shook her head, taking a few steps forward. 

“Come on now,” Isiah said. He nudged her with a gentle arm. “You really think there’ll be trouble with me by your side?” 

Clara stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. It wasn’t too long ago that the two of them had been bested by the coppers, both of them worse off for the encounter, but things were different now. 

Isiah was taller. Something in his face seemed changed. Older. Confident.

And he was a Peaky Blinder now—well, sort of one. 

“I’ve got ya and you’ve got me, yeah?” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Heard from Finn you’ve been scrappin’ again. Probably don’t even need any of my help in a fight.” 

Clara shrugged again, kicking at a pebble as she started walking. She wasn’t proud of the fight, even if they’d won. And she didn’t see Isiah grinning at her, focused as she was on her dirty boots as they moved through the streets.

“What really happened at the races?” she finally mumbled, sneaking a glance at him and finding her gaze lingering on his new scar again. 

Isiah tapped the pebble Clara had been moving along before looking to her. The question felt like a test, one where there was no right answer. But he’d promised her nothing would change. Isiah had promised her that him being a Blinder wouldn’t change their friendship.

“You can’t tell your brothers I told you,” he said. “If they find you out, you blame it on Finn. Lad can’t keep his mouth shut anyhow.” 

Clara chuckled at that, though she wasn’t sure she’d lie and blame her twin if it came down to it. She didn’t imagine it would come down to it, but even so, it felt malicious, even if it would be saving Isiah’s skin. Clara nodded anyhow. She needed the truth. Needed a bit of certainty.

“I’m not going to tell."

Isiah nodded before offering his tale, telling Clara all about the horses and the spectators, the Lee family and the money. He told her of the small cuts and bruises incurred by the men, himself included. And he told her of the crass words spoken on the way there and the way home. He told her all of it, the words flowing out like a story, like they had needed to be told, needed to be released from his brain. 

Isiah hadn’t seen Tommy the whole time, he’d said. Tommy and Grace had gone off someplace special, and all Isiah knew was that it had been a successful day. That Tommy had been pleased. At least, that's what Arthur had said.

The information didn't satisfy her or soothe her. If anything, what Isiah told her had given her more questions than anything else, but Isiah had seemed lighter for sharing it, as if a weight had been lifted.

It was still too early for the pictures. The first showing wasn't until 11 am and anyway, the kids were still hungry even after having breakfast at home. Starving, and they had money to burn, money to spend on who lever they wanted. They could've gone to Hinkley's, but they bypassed their local bakery, heading through the streets to find something else that was open, eventually settling on a small shop none of them had ever been to, the four of them enticed by the big cakes in the window.

Clara felt a tingle in her limbs as they settled by the Cut with their bag of treats, the pastries taking on some semblance of a second breakfast as the morning sun warmed their bones.

They worked on the contents of the bag with a certain fervor before Isiah and Robbie left the twins with the leftovers to skip rocks. Clara remained with her brother, the two of them settled with their feet dangled over the edge of the canal while Isiah tried to teach her nephew what to do, the two of them practicing swinging their arm.

"What happened at the races yesterday?" Clara asked, trying again to get some type of information.

"I'm not supposed to say," Finn said around a bite of pastry. "Why are you so worried about it?"

"I'm not worried."

"You're always worried," Finn answered, the words touching on something deep within her. Didn't everyone think about things all the time? She asked the question to herself, watching her brother as he munched on his food, his gaze on Robbie and Isiah. Clara realized then that Finn didn't seem worried. He didn't ever seemed very bothered about anything, which didn't seem a bit fair to Clara, that her brother's mind could be so quiet. So calm. So kind to him in that way, when hers was certainly not.

In fact, it seemed that Finn had already moved on from her questions altogether, a stretch of quiet passing between them that left Clara feeling uncomfortably alone with her thoughts.

"Tommy let me drive the car yesterday," she offered into the quiet, the information coming out only to get Finn talking again. "Maybe he'll take you out today."

Finn shook his head. "Tommy's busy with the pretty little barmaid.'"

Clara recognized the turn of phrase as belonging to one of her brothers—Arthur or John—but she stowed the information anyhow, ignoring the sting she felt at knowing Tommy had skipped out on their plans to be with Grace.

By the time Clara looked up again, Finn was standing beside Robbie, trying to give his own two cents about rock skipping, showing off his technique, which was all well and good until Robbie tried to replicate it, whipping a rock across the canal. The sound of shattering glass came quickly, echoing across the water.

Clara sat in stunned silence, looking around the small area they were in, her eyes catching on a bit of movement down the lane, her ears catching on a small sound. The sound grew louder and louder, the sound of footsteps on pavement building until she saw the face of a man she recognized. 

Moss.

The copper who had towed her across town, brought her to Inspector Campbell. The call to bring up the breakfast of sweets she'd just enjoyed came over Clara all at once as the man started moving towards them. She barely heard Isiah yell for them to run, was barely aware of Isiah taking Robbie’s hand and peeling away from the canal as she sat frozen there. Clara just sat there as if she was rooted to the ground, too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But then Finn was in front of her, holding out a hand. 

“C’mon, Clara, run,” Finn said, urging her up. “Leave it,” he said when she reached for the half-empty bag of sweets and he yanked her to her feet, the two of them sprinting off. Clara was barely aware of where they were going, the two of them weaving in and out of streets Clara hadn't ventured down in months. They’d lost Isiah and Robbie, and Clara didn’t dare slow or turn her head to see if the copper still followed them, not until they pulled to a stop outside of the theater.

Clara was grateful it was Finn who had their money as he bought their tickets and tugged her along into the building. She was still breathing hard, her heart beating in her chest as they slumped into the velvet seats. 

“What if something happened? What if—?” The words caught in Clara’s throat as the doors at the back of the theater opened and closed. She willed her heart to settle as two young women took up seats a few rows behind them. They paid her and Finn no mind.

The last time Clara had been in this theater, it was Tommy who had burst through the doors, demanding Ada tell him who had gotten her pregnant. Clara had been scared of her brother then. She thought he might kill one or both of them, but an angry Tommy was more preferable to her now than the thought of that copper coming through the door. 

Clara pushed herself down into the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her queasy stomach. Oh, how she regretted cookies and pastries for breakfast. Oh, how she regretted leaving Watery Lane in the first place...

Clara kept her eyes squeezed shut as the doors continued to open and close behind them. Despite Finn's teasing, despite his insistence that there was nothing to worry about, Clara flinched each time, holding her breath until steps faded away as the patrons found their seats. 

Clara finally heard a sound she recognized minutes later, a deep bit of laughter that seeped into her bones, and she loosed a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She turned to look over the back of her seat as Isiah and Robbie walked down the aisle. The little boy was laughing, a huge bag of popcorn in his arms as he zoomed away from Isiah, taking up the empty aisle seat beside Finn. 

Clara wanted to hug her nephew. To check him over and make sure he was alright, but it seemed like he had already forgotten their run-in with the copper. 

“Guess who we saw!” Robbie said, leaning across Finn to better see Clara, his answer coming before Clara could even think to respond. “Miss Lizzie! She was walking down the street.”

“Nice lady, Miss Stark,” Isiah added as he climbed over the seat from the row behind them. He slid into the seat beside Clara, settling a large bag of popcorn in her lap. 

“She told us to hide in an alleyway and then she told that copper we went the other way,” Robbie said, leaning across Finn to reach his hand into the popcorn.

Isiah hummed and took a handful of popcorn into his mouth as well before looking at Robbie. “Remember what I said though, mate?”

Robbie nodded. “Can’t tell no one about what happened," he said. 

“Good lad,” Isiah said as he sat back in the seat, leaning his arm over the back of Clara's chair. "I just hope Miss Stark keeps it to herself, too.”

“She will. I'm certain of it,” Clara let her head lean back into Isiah's arm as she grabbed a handful of popcorn for herself. Isiah glanced at her as if she might say more, but Clara didn’t offer any further explanation. Clara wasn’t sure how she’d be able to explain that she just knew, without a smidgen of uncertainty, that Lizzie Stark was a good person. An honest person.

And then the movie started, words coming across the screen that had a smile growing on her face: A Dog's Life, Written and Produced by: Charles Chaplin.

Her mind was still swimming with thoughts as the picture began. Thoughts of the broken window and the copper and her brothers and Grace and Lizzie Stark and the fact that they'd forgotten to find Jeremiah and invite him to dinner, but as the image of a small puppy emerged on the screen, Clara found a smile tugging at her lips, and she willed herself to give into it. She willed herself to let the uncertainties fall away, some part of her realizing that the world...the worries...they could wait until the movie was through.

Chapter 34

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

[kai-n-ali]

Chapter Nine of In The Fields of Asphodel (My Regrets Follow You to the Grave) is out!

Chapter 9: Hemlock (You'll Be the Death of Me)

Eleanor Blum didn’t know what to think of this man, this Peaky Blinder devil that made all of Small Heath cower before him, this almost-stranger with his dead wife and dead stare, but she wished he’d stop showing up at the flower shop she worked in. And that he’d stop looking at her with those blue eyes of his.

Follows aftermath of Season 03 throughout Season 04. Tommy x OFC.

Warnings: Depictions of child abuse, antisemitism towards OFC, canon-typical violence, canonical deaths, sexual themes, etc.

[katebishopofearth]

in the cracks of night (your light finds me hiding in the dark) [an ironwidow fanfic]

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: ironwidow Characters: Natasha | Tony Rating: T Other tags: panic attack | hurt/comfort | Natasha Romanov needs a hug

in the cracks of night (your light finds me hiding in the dark)

Heart pulsating. Stomach churning. Throat tightening. Panting for breath but there’s no air, no air, no air. Natasha wakes up in Tony’s bed shaking, gut-deep terror and nausea rising like the tide and drowning her from the inside. She tries to get up but the blanket twists around her like a shroud, and she flails wildly to be free of it, only narrowly avoiding hitting her boyfriend’s sleeping form. Not out of concern for waking him – her terrified brain isn’t capable of that kind of rational motive right now – it’s a survival instinct. She’s driven only by the need to go somewhere and keep quiet. Fall apart where no one can see or hear.

She’s acting, not thinking, as she stumbles across Tony’s bedroom and towards the en-suite bathroom. Driven by nausea and the fear of throwing up. Better the bathroom than the bedroom. Shoves the door open. Automatic lights flood the room and it’s too much, it drives her into sensory overload. Her bare feet step onto carpet, not tiles. The small conscious part of her brain registers this isn’t the bathroom but she doesn’t care, crawls into the walk-in closet on hands and knees until she finds the back corner where the darkness is thickest, and buries herself in the shadows between Tony’s winter coats and sweaters.

Curls up as small as she can in the dim space. Knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped tight around her shins as she shudders. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight. Digs her nails into her biceps as hard as she can, the pain the only thing keeping her in the physical world. Her heart pounds against her thighs, a juddering, erratic rhythm going too fast, like it’s trying to batter its way out of her chest. The woollen dark is punctuated only by sharp, hot gasps that deliver little oxygen to lungs that have forgotten how to expand.

She has no concept of time passing, but she knows that she’s already spent too long trying and failing to compose herself. So long that the lights have turned off and she’s truly engulfed in the dark. But she can’t make herself get up. Not without shaking or throwing up or passing out. It’s been months since she’s had one this bad, she thought she was out of the woods. That her damage has been fixed enough so Tony never has to find out. That she was safe. But she’s not, the terror always rises within her no matter how long it’s been, and here she is, having a full-blown panic attack in her new boyfriend’s closet.

The door slides open and light penetrates her dark corner. She slaps her palm against her mouth, her entire body trembling, eyes squeezing shut so tightly that a drop of moisture gathers at the tip. She has to keep quiet keep quiet can’t let him know she’s here or she’ll –

“Tasha?” Tony’s voice is groggy. Confused. “You in here?”

His proximity physically hurts. She can’t completely stifle the choked sound that rips its way out of her throat, from the part of her that wants to be held, even more than she fears being seen. The sound punctures the silence of the closet.

His feet shuffle closer. “I’m coming in there. Don’t shoot me, okay?” Rustling as he rifles through the closet. Her eyes are still closed, she can’t make herself open them as she waits like a prisoner for execution. Then shuffling, the sound of someone – not someone, Tony, her boyfriend of two months – crawling on his hands and knees to reach her.

“Natasha.” The way he whispers her name is a prayer of shock, not disgust. Humiliation rises with her nausea and fills her lungs.

A deep inhale and exhale – not hers, her nose and throat and lungs are incapable of the simple act. “Honey, can I touch you?”

She can’t speak, her throat and tongue and vocal cords aren’t cooperating, but she wants – and she loathes herself for wanting – him to gather her into his arms and let her break down in them.

[keep reading on AO3]