#no other reason charlie cares so much for Tommy

[zablife]

Seamstress, Secretary, Sex-worker, Spy

John x female reader

Summary: You've been seen with John numerous times and now the Shelby family is getting suspicious. Who are you and what's your true relationship to John?

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon. Tysm for the idea! I hope you don't mind that I wrote them as headcanons. I haven't had much time for full fics recently.

Warnings: language, mention of smut

🌹The first time someone sees you with John you're collecting the laundry, a large basket at your hip piled high with all his unwashed shirts. "Have we got a new washerwoman in town, Charlie?" Curly asks, scratching his head as he sees you passing on the street.

"Don't look like any washerwoman I ever saw," Charlie says ogling you.

💌The second time, you're in the betting shop, nibbling on the end of a pencil as you think of a clever note to leave on John’s desk. Linda rolls her eyes as she complains, "Perfect, they've sent me another useless idiot who can't do simple maths." When you disappear, she assumes you quit. "Thanks be to Jesus for that," she mutters under her breath.

❤️ The third time your presence is much harder to miss, a sharp cry of pleasure erupting from the snug in the Garrison. "Has John got a whore in there?" Isaiah asked, turning to Finn with a wicked smirk. Their suspicions seemed to be confirmed when you left minutes later, money in hand and a smoldering kiss to send you on your way.

🌹 The mystery of your presence remains in the following days and soon Tommy becomes suspicious as well. “I knew he was spending too much time in Solomons’ territory,” he grumbles, pacing the floor of his office. “What if that dodgy fucker sent her here?"

"A spy?" Polly chuckles as she leans back in her chair.

"Why not use a pretty girl to turn his head?," Tommy reasoned with a huff of frustration. When she rolled her eyes in return he shouted, "Everyone knows John thinks with his cock!"

💌 The family meeting begins without John who appears twenty minutes late, stuffing his shirt into the back of his trousers. Running to the meeting from your arms is difficult enough, but now the entire family is boring holes into him, expecting an explanation. When they begin telling him of their suspicions, his mouth drops open.

"You being serious, Tom?" he asks. "All of you?" he looks around the room aghast. Slowly everyone nods. "Bloody hell..." his voice drops as removes his cap and drops into a chair crestfallen.

❤️ Polly begins to look worried, leaning forward at the table to ask, "John, if this girl is going to be trouble, we need to know."

"Always thinking the worst, ain't ya?" he answers bitterly. Then he shakes his head with a little laugh, which angers Arthur first.

"You fucking laughing at us? Finn and Isaiah saw you pay the little tart! What's that about, eh?" he grumbles, anger contorting his face.

"What the fuck did you call her?" John seethes, lunging for his brother. A scuffle breaks out between them which Tommy and Uncle Charlie have to stop before either of them can land a punch.

🌹 John straightens his clothes as he begins, "Yeah, she's my girl. But she ain't a whore and she ain't a spy for Alfie fucking Solomons either alright? Moved to Saltley two years ago with her mum. I had it checked out....'M not as stupid as everyone thinks." He sniffs and takes a look around the room to see disbelief still hanging in the air. "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

Polly places a hand on his arm, "We're listening, go on."

💌John's eyes soften as he speaks of you. "She takes care of me, does the laundry and shopping, leaves me kind notes..." Eyes glazing slightly at the memory he turns to Arthur adding, "Sucks me dry, I swear to God. Yesterday I thought--"

"We believe you," Polly interjects with a firm nod. Turning to her other nephew she states, "Tommy, I think this item of business is closed."

❤️ You're invited to the next family dinner as a way to placate John, but also for the others to get to know you. When they do, they adore you instantly and John is rightfully vindicated. "Shouldn't have doubted me," John reminds them.

"I know. I was wrong to say you were only thinking with your cock," Tommy apologizes.

"No, I was thinking with me cock, but for once it was the right decision," John admits with a wink.

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60 

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader

@darklydeliciousdesires

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@cillmequick

@runnning-outof-time

@dandelionprints

@peakyltd

@call-sign-shark

@brummiereader

@holacia3

@kmhappybunny240

@mgcldydrms

@mythos-writes

@look-at-the-soul

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Gonna throw my hat into the ring here, as someone who very recently had a streamer they loved and supported go down for serious allegations and crimes. Feel free to skip around my long ass response, I'll break it down into parts:

---Public Reception

Part of the reason I despise these situations is because people online don't ever know enough to make 100% accurate assessments, but will act like they do anyway (I don't care if its authoritarian, I want a bill where people on Twitter can't post about drama until after at least 5 minutes of being forced to critically think). Having said that, here's my opinions on how everything should go forward:

-Shelby shared her story in order to spread awareness on domestic abuse and the signs, so that others can read those signs and keep themselves safe (or leave an actively abusive situation they've been convincing themselves isn't that bad). That is the priority here, that is what people should be focusing on. If you make this situation about stirring drama with the other CCs, you're a dumbass and you need to stop posting. Give support to Shelby, uplift the voices of women like her sharing their stories, spread awareness on what domestic abuse can look like so everyone can learn, and wait for more information. Its that simple.

-CCs don't owe statements for conflicts they weren't involved in. Philza, Tommy, Quackity, Charlie, and other CCs close to Wilbur who aren't part of this don't owe you an explanation. They're people, they're most likely having to come to terms with the fact that a dear friend, someone who could've been like family, isn't who they thought he was. Have a fucking heart and cut it with the parasocial entitlement. I'm hoping Quackity will remove Wilbur from the Qsmp, but just like with Forever, he probably won't make a big announcement of it, and that's perfectly ok. I understand wanting to make sure you're not supporting a CC who would defend someone guilty of committing domestic abuse, but its still not your right to get anything from these people. If they share, they share. If not, then they don't. If you can't handle that, then leave.

-Having said the above, its worth noting that CCs aren't just a fun group of friends, they're coworkers. Much of what they say publicly and when they say it can be shaped or restricted by situations that can affect their careers or get them in legal trouble. You don't know these people personally or what goes on behind the scenes, its a network and you can't measure their responses the same way you would your own opinion piece. The CCs will always need to be careful about how they respond to an issue, and they will most likely respond in "safe" ways considering what's on the line. Not accusing anyone of anything, nor demonizing them for it, just something to keep in mind. They're human, but they're also working a job.

-If you have Lovejoy or Wilbur-related merch, DON'T THROW IT AWAY OR DESTROY IT. I've seen lots of people pointing out merch can be donated to thrift shops or shelters, and its more eco-friendly than burning or trashing. Remember, anything can be repurposed; a book, a hoodie, there's always someone who can find a use for it. Likewise if you want to keep your old merch, that's fine to. You can wear it if it brings you comfort, or if its something you just like the look of. As long as you're not supporting the source, you already have the merch so don't let people pressure you into thinking you're bad for keeping it if you're not ready to let go/throw away those $70.

---My Opinion Regarding His Response

Everyone and their cousin has been dogpiling on Wilbur's response (rightfully), but I think people online don't understand how public responses work when there's legal team and PR interference. The tweet for me had a weird lack of personal touch and emotion from the guy I've observed to be very personal in his writings, whether its his music or a community post about a life update (blah blah parasociality I know, but I'm letting you know the observations I've made of his behavior simply as someone who notices these things). He also never explicitly stated Shelby's name, rather saying "that person" (you even had the textbook 'black text on a blank white background' screenshotted response). Finally, there was a consistent standing on Wilbur 'not being aware of how the other person really felt' regarding his actions. What I'm trying to say is... y'all really gotta start putting two and two together. Its a textbook PR response. As in, I'd be surprised if Wilbur had over 50% involvement in making it because the wording is exactly how it reads when a response has been initiated by someone's lawyers rather than themselves. The reason he doesn't take more accountability and openly admit to having abused Shelby (other than the obvious public backlash) is probably cause his lawyers are banking on the feigning ignorance angle, that Wilbur didn't intentionally abuse Shelby and was ignorant to how his actions affected her. Its the best way to get him out of hot water on the legal side, because again, this isn't messy drama; its a genuine accusation of a crime. I don't think the response is tone deaf and unaware, I think its a deliberate and measured legal move not even fully created by Wilbur himself. This isn't to say I think he's innocent, but I do know that Shelby and others have brought up some serious accusations, and Wilbur is lawyering up as a result.

---Nuance

Prefacing this part by saying that things are not looking good for Wilbur in regards to what other CCs have brought up about him, and I fully believe and support Shelby, hence why I support that the community should start distancing from him and his work. But I would like to take this opportunity to look into the greater aspects at play. We are within a system that brings up men to do what they want without teaching them to be considerate and aware of the consequences. Men are taught their harmful behavior is perfectly fine, often at women's expense, which makes these situation a very different story depending on who's telling it. Its because of this that we need to critically analyze the system and how it causes men to turn out as they do, instead of giving an immediate opinion without any nuance.

There's a possibility that Wilbur is being genuine in not realizing how bad his actions were. There's a possibility he truly is a manipulative liar who knew exactly what he was doing. He could be a piece of shit. He could be genuinely trying to improve and do better. We don't know. I'd say its pretty cut and dry that he hurt Shelby, and for that I'm glad she's getting justice for herself and spreading awareness. But if we're to entertain the idea of redemption, we need to look at situations like these with nuance so that we can understand the "why". I'm not trying to justify Wilbur's actions or even give him the benefit of the doubt, I have no idea what's going on in that guy's head. I'm just putting this out there because its something I want everyone to think about, especially when it comes to topics regarding narcissism and mental health issues. Don't support him or Lovejoy, just keep something like this in mind for the future.

---The Community/Now Displaced Fans

To everyone who's immediately telling Wilbur's fans (the ones that don't support his actions and are actively mourning no longer being able to enjoy his stuff) to just listen to other music or move on, and who are celebrating each negative new thing that comes out about Wilbur's current status, sincerely, shut the fuck up. You are completely lacking in empathy or emotional intelligence, and what you're doing is the last thing the community needs. Wilbur and his work could have and for many did get fans through some of their hardest moments, and losing that wonderful sense of community you get from streamers and their work (especially with the roleplay stuff) is awful. It fucked me up losing that after almost a year, for some of his fans its been even longer.

If you're a (former) fan of his, its ok to feel like shit. We're human, we get attached and we grieve losing something like this because that's how capable we are of loving. Take your time, as long as you know where to stand (supporting Shelby and raising awareness on domestic abuse), you're doing good. You can keep enjoying his characters and work and making content about it, separating the art from the artist (though don't stream his music from platforms that would give him the money, find a way to pirate it).

This sucks. I feel it as a casual fan who was once hugely into his content, I can imagine what its like for those who were huge supporters all the way up until now. You didn't do anything wrong supporting someone you thought was a good person, its just a thing that happens and its so fucking shitty. You ain't alone though, I know some of you have that knee-jerk reaction to avoid anything to do with him but reaching out to others in the community and actually processing it all is way better, you won't be bottling it all up. Don't be afraid to continue engaging with this part of your life until you're ready to move on from it in your own time, and be kind to yourself. From someone who went through exactly what you are now, trust me, you'll get through it.

[lowkeyrobin]

hello! i absolutely love your writing and i was wondering if you could do something with mcyts, especially slimecicle and foolish (if you can’t think of anything for them don’t feel pressured! i don’t mind), and anyone else you want to write for x a reader that has a career in musical theatre? maybe something about them seeing shows reader is in and just overall hyping them up? feel free to ignore this, it’s just a little thought i had! have a good day 🫶

oooo yeah sure!! ; idk much ab musical theater but I tried lmao ; also added tommy bc I had leftover ideas + I was mostly only focused on charlie and foolish lol

MCYT ; musical theater

includes ; tommyinnit, slimecicle, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

"mean girls musical?? the fuck"

"my show is better, L"

he's secretly your biggest fan let's be honest

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

he'll sit off somewhere you won't see him after the first night so he can just stare at you without you noticing, since you like to tease him about it afterward

taking pictures of you then posting them during the show like hyping you up and talking about the plot

there's one of you singing and looking up toward the sky and he posted a tweet w a pic that says "me praying to god" and it dramatically left the mcyt circle 💀

he'll go and watch the source material before show dates just to see what you're performing and he'll talk about the plot with you

"why the hell are you walking down the yellow brick road?? THERES AN EVIL WIZARD, GO THE OTHER WAY???"

he shuts up immediately when you're practicing vocals at home just to listen to you

sometimes he'll buy extra tickets last minute to get you guys some more money LMAO

he definitely helped with prop making idc

at least painting the backgrounds and set things

your biggest supporter istg

always hyping you up

helps you improv act within the character to get used to the character themselves to not make them another version of you

he can sing too, so yk damn well he's helping you sing/getting into another character to help you rehearse the singing parts at home

shows up to every show to cheer you and your colleagues on

he's all smiles and like in a trance watching you on stage

like literal stars in his eyes

after every show he gives you the biggest hug and literally bombards you with compliments

he's secretly taking pictures and recording the whole way through, he doesn't care about those rules /j

attempts to try on your outfit/s at home if you get to take them with you as well

he can literally pull off anything wtf

it's like that video of mckenna grace and aryan simhadri where they're both wearing red dresses and they both killed it like?? okay, power couple who??

he's always posting shit ab you online as well, pictures videos, just talking about how cool you are etc

you two do theater karaoke every once in a while on stream and its the funniest thing

FOOLISH GAMERS

"how do you sing like that??"

"magic"

also tries on your outfits 💀

if you're in newsies... it's over

he seems like the biggest newsies fan for some reason LMAO

he's always hyping you up before rehearsals/shows and showing off his support for you ❤️

he is mesmerized by your performance, hearts and stars in his eyes the whole time

you almost went on stage w his snapback on because you were messing around with your friends backstage 💀

the second you got a part in the mean girls musical, he was jumping up and down

he'd probably never seen the musical but 100% watched the original movie 9477391 times

you show off your theater singing to him every once in a while and he's just like 🤨😨

he gives the biggest hugs after a performance

"Oh my God that was awesome!!"

if there's any merch, yk damn well he's buying it

he'll watch your performances on stream as well 😭 just to show you off

your contact name is probably "Broadway star"

you have to make Broadway Baby jokes after that (broadway baby was abby lee millers dog back in the day, only dance moms haters would get it 😔🙏)

[the-fandom-queen]

Seth and his Brothers

“Seth Gordon was one of the first Foxes signed to Palmetto State University. Born and bred in Birmingham, Alabama, he was the fourth of seven sons.”

Sibling relations that haunt the narrative but it’s me thinking about the Gordon brothers.

Stetson

Jeremy (only one canonically named)  

Beau

Seth 

Charlie

Cooper

Tommy 

Stetson - Oldest brother (6 years older than Jeremy, 10 years older than Seth)

The first child

Never got along well with his parents, specifically his dad.

Moved out as soon as he turned 18, 2 months before his dad left

Seth only holds vague memories of him playing baseball and teaching him to swim. 

Jeremy (4 years older than Seth)

Dark brown hair, Dark brown eyes, crooked nose from that one time Seth broke it, 5’11

Became the oldest when Stetson left

Used to look up to his big brother, even though Steson never really wanted to hang out with his younger brother a lot.

Became the ‘Man of the House’ and parent overnight the day after his 12th birthday

Had to figure out how to get 5 boys under the age of 10 to eat vegetables and shower

Of course he resorted to violence

In all seriousness, this child was just going off the examples he had

Being raised in the south by parents who clearly didn’t have much concern with their children’s development, Jeremy had already received his fair share of spankings

And to a child that age, there really is no difference than a spanking for misbehaving and being hit for no reason

So he used the skills he had to make sure Seth and his brothers didn’t wander too deep into the woods and hosed themselves off in the backyard before they tracked mud into the house

Missed his fair share of school to take care of the others

The baby’s got hay fever? That pre algebra test is not of importance right now

Never cared for school too much anyway, always preferred to work with his hands

His dream is to build himself a log cabin out in the woods and live out there alone

Favorite color is green, favorite season is summer, favorite genre is dad rock (they parentified the fuck out of him)

Is closest to his brother Beau

Is aro ace but doesn’t really care? He’s never had an interest in dating or sex but he chalked most of it up to just being to stressed

Goes to trade school once he finished high school and becomes a welder

Doesn’t leave home until Tommy is 16. He feels like he can���t

Tries to keep in touch with all of them but sometimes it's just too much

Has a gorgeous cocker spaniel he named goldie. 

Beau (3 years older than Seth)

Dark brown hair, Dark brown eyes,freckles, 5’10

Brother closest in age and relationship to Jeremy (it helps that they shared a room growing up)

Was the quiet one out of the older 4

Hates haircuts so his hair is grown out all skater boy mophead-like (teen wolf season 1 scott mccall haircut fr)

Picked up odd jobs throughout middle and highschool to help his mom with the bills

He’s been a tutor, a shelver at the library, a busboy, you name it and Beau did it at 13

Knows how to sew really well from constantly patching up everyone’s clothes

Because he’s quieter and one of the shorter brothers, the average outsider assumes he’s fragile

He’s actually the most violent of them

Him and Jere once broke the dining room table roughhousing because Jeremry tried to force him to cut his hair

Beau picked up the scattered splinters with a bloody hand while Jeremy tried to fix the table 

The table still wobbles a bit

Got into a lot of fights at school, ended up being recruited for his school’s wrestling team

Was almost a state champion but got ill before his last match because Cooper brought home some stomach bug and got everyone in the house sick.

Moves in with his friend when he graduates and takes classes at community college

Comes home every now and then to make sure they don’t burn the house down or kill each other

Favorite color is blue, favorite season is winter, favorite genre is country (couldn’t free him)

Is now an ESL teacher at an elementary school

Has an on again off again girlfriend (like his brother) who is a librarian.

Charlie (one year younger than Seth)

Dark brown hair, Hazel eyes, uneven undercut and snakebites 5’11

Was once Seth’s other half

They shared everything growing up: a room, clothes, music tastes, girls

Got into less trouble than seth in school but outside of it was a different question

Got caught shoplifting and vandalizing buildings like every tuesday

Once tried to steal the tip jar at this small grocery store but the owner caught him

The owner, Owen, offered to workout some kind of deal with Charlie instead of calling the cops (after charlie begged him not to, because one more report and they were going to send him away, potentially for good-)

So charlie starts working at the store

Granted, he’s making pennies on the dollar but he's 14 and he doesn’t mind too much

Owen is the first kind male authority figure he’s had like ever so he enjoys spending time at the store.

And this has nothing to do with owen’s son whose the same age as charlie and really cute 

He kind of hates school but only goes because he truly cannot give the local sheriff's office another excuse to get him in trouble

He does enjoy witnessing the store function as a business though

The budgeting, the inventory, payroll, he wants to learn all of that

Seth thinks he’s a maniac but what does Seth know? He literally joined the chorus 

Graduates school by like the skin of his teeth but when he does Owen promotes him to associate manager (he’s the longest working employing second only to Owen himself)

Obviously doesn’t go to college but when Seth gets recruited to Palmetto he’s decked out in orange trust

He makes it to one game prior to Seth’s 5th year and he lost his voice cheering (they lost)

Is queer but also doesn’t care, he just likes what he likes and never really tells anyone

Favorite color is red, favorite season is summer, favorite genre is rock/midwest emo (same as Seth’s) 

Floats in and out the house after graduating depending on if he is currently in  a relationship and if he’s staying with them

Cooper (3 years younger than Seth)

Light brown hair, Dark brown eyes, almost constant tan somehow, 6’1

You know how Noah Kahan said “Attention deficient kids in their gym clothes”? Yeah he was singing about Cooper 

The brother with the most property damage under his belt and not even because of anger issues and lashing out, he’s just impulsive as fuck

He’s also very angry but that doesn’t really change anything, he is a Gordon after all

Truly spent the first 16 years of his life just doing shit and trying to avoid the consequences

Gives him great uncle lore though

Wanna hear about the time he played Mercutio in his school's production of Romeo and Juliet? What about the time he stole a catalytic converter? 

The others are kind of scared of him only because they never know what to expect

He joins his school’s JROTC his junior year and uses the national guard as a reserve officer to pay for college.

He majors in kinesiology and becomes a physical therapist 

He moves out after he gets his degree

He’s not particularly close with his brothers but he loves them all

He’s shit with birthdays so he usually doesn’t remember to call them until 2 months after

They don’t mind.

As mentioned before, he does have adhd

His guidance counselor points it out to his mom but she never does anything with that information so he never gets an official medical diagnosis

Or medication 

Safe to assume he tried his fair share of substances as a teen

He had to stop all of that when he started basic though, and he will admit he’s better for it

He finally gets an official diagnosis and medication after he completes his service obligation

Favorite color is orange, favorite season is summer, favorite genre is rap (is also a surprisingly big folk pop fan)

Has 2 orange cats names lulu and lemon

Romance status: crushing on the receptionist at his job, hard.

Tommy (5 years younger than Seth)

Dark brown hair with gray streaking through, Hazel eyes, birthmark on his cheek that looks like a bruise, 6’0

Is the youngest Gordon brother

When he was first born they used to just call him “the baby” and the nickname has stuck, despite tommy’s protests

Started graying early at 16 like all the other Gordon brothers but chose to not dye his hair and cover it up like they do.

Dyslexic and chronically online, the worst combination

Looked up to Seth and Charlie the most growing up

He played exy for a bit because Seth did but he didn’t really care for the sport

Took up soccer and found a really joy for it

He was also really good

Is probably the loudest brother

Felt quite lonely growing up because he was treated as the baby brother everyone had to take care of but no one wanted to hang out with

Is disastrously bisexual but prefers to not say anything and let others figure it out on their own

Loves birds but couldn’t have one growing up because Jeremy and Seth were always bringing home random dogs and natural enemies you know

Gets a soccer scholarship to Palmetto (almost didn’t take it because he hates orange)

Majors in Real Estate and becomes an agent when he graduates

Favorite color is blue, favorite season is fall, favorite genre is indie (his spotify wrapped is the most random thing ever)

I could talk about how they react to Seth’s death but in my mind he’s still alive! So instead I will use the idea someone else had i forgot who, where Seth survived the overdose but was in rehab for the year so he has to repeat his 5th year.

Jeremy’s phone wakes him up in the middle of the night and he’s pissed. He looks over and sees a number he doesn’t have saved but looks vaguely familiar. He answers and it's Allison, Seth’s sorta girlfriend.

She’s crying

She tells him Seth overdosed and that this one is bad. (She seems to be holding something back but he doesn’t push. He assumes it’s just preemptive grief)

He asks her if there’s anything she needs from him but he already knows her answer, they’ve done this dance before, this isn’t Seth’s first overdose.

She just tells him to stay close to his phone and hangs up.

Jeremy sighs, sends a text off to the family group chat saying Seth overdosed and went back to sleep. Sue him, he has an early shift in the morning.

Midway through the next day he gets a text from Allison telling him how Seth is being forced into rehab for the next 9 months.

He leaves work early and goes to Beau’s school because clearly this was more serious than he thought

He feels guilty for not being more concerned earlier but he’s in Alabama and Seth is in South Carolina there wasn’t much he could do but now that he’s really thinking hecould’vediedBeauhepropbablyalmostdied-

They take off work the next day and drive up to SC

By time they get there it's too late and Seth has already been admitted into Easthaven and he is not allowed visitors.

They still see Allison though, who fills them in more about Seth

She’s clearly upset but it feels like more than his overdose, or even his institutionalization 

She doesn’t say anything about it though

They go home and tell the others everything they know

So they can’t see Seth until April of next year

They write him letters instead

He never responds, they don’t know if he’s not allowed to send mail out or if he just doesn’t want to

They tell him everything in the letters

Beau talks about his girlfriend and their latest fight, Charlie about how Owen fell on his ass the other day, Cooper about his ass of a professor, Tommy about his offer to play at Palmetto, Jeremy about his dog and her beef with the neighbor’s Siamese cats

They write and write and what they don’t know is, Seth reads them all

The letters help keep him sane in there

And when he is released in April, right before his birthday, they all come down to pick him up

[po11yannaswife]

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑁.𝐼 ๋࣭⭑𝜗𝜚

𖹭 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑥𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𖹭 ;

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼𝐼 ; 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑎 1923-1924

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖-𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑎, 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟-𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑃𝑇𝑆𝐷.

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

How I’ve been busy these days.

Grace and Thomas are getting married in two weeks, and I have been expected to help plan it, help with the customs of her dress, make sure Charlie is taken care of if Thomas and Grace have chosen to go out and plan themselves. Or fuck. In return I’m being taught Romani and have a nicer paycheque.

I’m too nice to reject helping the two, even if I don’t fancy Grace. She has a notorious past of being a snitch to the Shelby family, a liar. Somehow, she made her way into Thomas’s heart, and now they have a child together and she is to be joining their family. It’s not my family, so I don’t think I have the right to say much..do I? I don’t have a clue anymore.

When I say I don’t fancy Grace, I mean I don’t trust her. I dislike her. The only reason I am helping, is because she makes Thomas happy. She gave him a child. She gave him the ability to feel true love, to feel the beauty of romance once more and unleash a more affectionate side of him. For that, I do appreciate her for. Usually, if someone did what she did to Tommy, they’d be six feet under, only remains of their bones to be found and the blood would be on Shelby's hands. But, odd enough, he did the complete opposite.

I’m not one to judge being in a very odd love situation, though. I’d be a hypocrite. I have been, for the past four bloody years, desperately in love with Polly. Everything she does ignites this peculiar sense of happiness and fluttering feeling inside of me. Every time she speaks to me, god forbid praises me for my work, my feet kick on their own and an uncontrollable smile happens. I feel like a giddy school girl who has a crush on their superior. It’s awful.

I don’t know if she has noticed. If she has, I’d be surprised she hasn’t shot me yet and gets it over with. Who would want a younger girl hopelessly in love with them? The same bloody sex as them? I couldn’t imagine the stress, the disgust. I feel as if I’d kill myself first if Polly were to make it known she was disgusted or repelled by me, though. And luckily, I don’t think she is.

Ada on the other hand, most definitely has and that brings a sense of fear to me once more. She talks, and it’s not like I told her!  She said she knew by the look in my eye whenever I see Polly, how they dilate immensely, how my cheeks go slightly red..I don’t know. She just blatantly asked when Polly left the room and I couldn’t deny it..I tried.

What scares me is that Polly is much more aware and she knows everything. Does she know about my infatuation with her? God, does she know of this journal? Four years of pure mind vents of my love for her? I think I’d burn this, then go hang myself before I bloody burn in the flames of hell.

With Love.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?" Francis interjected, capturing your attention as you turned your head. "Do you happen to know where Grace would like this?" She gestured towards the enormous painting of a horse, particularly Tommy's favourite.

You gazed at the painting for a moment, closing your journal in the process. Feeling a bit uncertain, you rose from your seat and surveyed the walls of Tommy's office. As the other maids' murmurs filled the air, you pointed hesitantly at a blank space between two bookshelves and suggested, "I believe this spot should work well, I think."

Oh, yes, the part no one could forget. Partially designing their new countryside mansion! Extremely exciting and absolutely not stressful at all! Why would such a joy ever be stressful?...get the sarcasm yet?

Watching as they went over to that wall and began to place it, looking over at you for your reference. “Here? Or higher?”

"An inch higher... no, a bit lower," you directed, unintentionally losing sight of the strain the maids were enduring. Their discomfort went unnoticed as they struggled to raise the artwork above their heads. One of them held a nail and a hammer, wincing quietly. "Higher," you insisted, the collective groans of the maids unintentionally disregarded.

"Higher- Oh, fuck!" Fortunately, your close proximity allowed you to just manage to catch the priceless painting before disaster struck. "The centre will do! Just in the middle!" You made your decision right then, feeling how heavy the painting was.

With urgency, the maid on the stool grabbed the nail and swiftly drove it into the wall. The frame's edge pressed into your shoulder, a pang of guilt striking you for not fully acknowledging the two women who awaited your decision. "Gently lift the painting upward, that's perfect." The maid on the stool commanded softly.

As a bunch, you guided the artwork, skillfully hooking the wire onto the sturdy nail. The two maids released their grip as you carefully pressed the painting against the wall, ensuring it hung straight. You slid your hands together swiftly afterwards, taking a deep breath. 

“I apologise to the two of you for not choosing quicker.” You spoke to the two women who stood behind you, massaging their own hands as mumbles came from the both of them. “That is one bloody hefty painting, innit Francis?”

“I would’ve made sure to warn you if I would have known you were to help hang it,” She admitted as the third maid climbed down the stool, getting out of your view. “Thank you.”

“Why is that fucking thing so heavy?” You breathlessly rhetorically asked, rubbing your shoulder. “I mean, I get it’s a painting, but fucking Christ.”

Francis chuckled, “Mr. Shelby has exquisite taste, and I presume his taste means we have to almost kill ourselves decorating with it.” You agreed with a hum, turning back to the woman. “You should go home, it’s getting late.”

“Can’t do that with how much they expect of me,” You sighed, “There’s work to do, and if I don’t do it, it’ll stress me out that I have to do it.”

There was silence between the both of you until Francis spoke, her statement making your heart just slightly drop.

“You’re turning into Mr. Shelby.”

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

It is Valentine’s day and I cannot say I am happy today for any reason.

Francis has a day off, which means I am taking care of Charlie. Ada is too far in London, and Polly is taking care of the betting shop. Now, I don’t understand why another maid cannot just take care of him. But, what can I do? I’m not gonna let the boy be alone. I make this sound like I take care of him everyday, which isn’t the case, but I’m here quite often. Somehow, I’m starting to miss Small Heath…fuck, am I homesick? 

It’s not like I have any romance with anyone, any partner. I’m not missing out on a fancy outing with my significant other or a good fuck. I never even had a fuck but, still. I’ve always heard in the magazines and books I read it feels good and magical almost. How intimate it is and it’s the best when miracles of life come from it. In real life on the other hand? I've heard quite a different perspective, especially from housewives in places like Birmingham and France. They describe it as becoming monotonous after a few repetitions. According to their accounts, the husband's experience is often centred around his own satisfaction, with little consideration for the wife's pleasure. This seems incredibly..unfair to me. What's even more perplexing is that these same wives end up getting pregnant repeatedly without seemingly experiencing any pleasure from the act. I get so confused. Why does the man receive all the satisfaction while the woman is left with the responsibility of taking care of his children, especially when he might be engaging with prostitutes under the guise of work? I've encountered numerous such men at the betting shop, and I've managed to restrain my reactions in their presence, despite my feelings about it.

Thing is, I don’t want a man to fuck me. Cocks have never gained my attraction, they scare me. And men with their entitlement and nasty personas, just wanting a weak housewife for her to take care of him..it repulses me. I’ve never felt any sort of sexual attraction really, until I think of Polly. It’s this funny feeling, I’m not dumb to not know I’m turned on. I just don’t know how to..take care of it. I think I’m sexually frustrated. Romantically, everything. I’m frustrated with my love life because the person I love is a bloody woman..whom I haven’t seen in a week and I am beginning to go mental. I need to hear her voice again and a single embrace. I love spending time with Charlie and in this beautiful home, but I love her more. 

On the other more serious side, Thomas has let me know that we’ve begun business in Russia. They need weapons, imports, things like that. Britain has gotten him, well, us involved with this to be civil Russian war..it’s hard to understand. Thomas supplies them with weapons since Britain cannot show their support for the capitalists. I’m not good at political topics, but I have some base. I have the burden of being one of the only people knowing this as well, thanks to Tommy. Then, we are dealing with Italians once more, the Changrettas. I pray that they won’t start a war or anything of violent matters.

Oh, not to mention, Arthur has this really religious woman that he plans on marrying, Linda. I don’t like her. She’s real odd. But I suppose love is love, even with some weird eerie Catholic lady.

With Love.

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

The day of Tommy’s and Grace’s wedding and I cannot deny that I am nervous. It is six in the morning as I write this in the car, one of the blinders giving me the ride to Warwickshire. That’s a silly name, even when writing it I giggle to myself. It sounds like a candle.

I will be helping the maids prepare for the celebrations after the ceremony, handling Grace’s hair which I don’t mind, and before even attempting to run to the ceremony, make sure Charlie is in good hands with Francis. I feel like a permanent, more trusted maid for the two lovebirds. I don’t know if I hate it, but all I know is my stress is at an all time high. I hope to see the wedding ceremony, but if I don’t, it’s okay I guess.

There isn’t much else to say here. The day hasn’t even started, I’m not even at the manor or, as properly named, the Arrow House. I hope all goes well and the future newlyweds can enjoy their day without any mishaps. This is the Peaky Blinders we’re speaking of here so, that probably won’t happen.

With Love.

“Mr. Shelby hasn’t mentioned you’re a writer, Miss Y/l/n.” The driver stated his observation in almost a flirtatious tone. “You an author?”

You laughed, shutting the book and putting it into your bag that was full with the dress and accessories for later in the day. “No, no. I journal as a way to speak freely of my experiences without the stress of someone saying anything. It’s nothing, really.”

“Without the stress of someone saying anything?” He cocked a brow, repeating your statement in a more questioning way. “Why, you’ve been bad? What do you do, pretty girl?”

This felt weird, and not in a good way. He knew what you did for a living, everyone knew that associated with the peaky blinders, so why was he seemingly trying to get something out of you? That or..horrible flirting. His question still stood, so you answered it as subtly as you could. “No. Just have been doing my job.” 

The way he was silent for the rest of the ride made you assume that your stern tone made him equally uncomfortable. Once you were in front of the house, you opened the door, searched through your pocket and took out three quid. “I haven’t been informed on what your pay is, so this is an appreciation. But, listen to me closely,” You leaned in, getting the man slightly scared just from the tone in your voice as it lowered a few octaves.

“Don’t ever question what we do, especially to us. You know what we do. Understood?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

He quickly nodded, “Yes ma’am.” 

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a hold of your bag and left the car, shutting the door behind you. You took a key out of your pocket and welcomed yourself in, gently closing the door. The quietness that filled the home made you weary of your footsteps, ready to take your stilettos off so the clicking wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Voices upstairs could be heard once you were in the dining room, by now it was around seven. A sigh escaped your lips as you placed your bag down. Driven by your lingering sense of paranoia, you retrieved a needle and thread to mend the already-buttoned opening. It was a seemingly small action, but your cautious nature prevailed. In your view, there was no such thing as being overly cautious.

A sudden exclamation from Francis, calling out "Oh, Miss Y/l/n!" startled you, causing the needle to prick your finger. However, you had become somewhat used to this sensation by now. Bringing your finger to your lips, you sucked on it for a moment before resuming your task, focusing on stitching diligently.

"Good morning, Francis," you said in a subdued tone as she approached, her curiosity evident. Anticipating her unspoken query, you explained, "I can't bring myself to leave this with just a button. I'm sewing it shut, so later on, I can easily cut it open with a blade."

Francis raised an eyebrow and suggested, "You are aware that you have your own personal room, yes?"

Confused by the statement, you halted your stitching. You inquired, "I wasn't informed about any personal room…?"

Responding wordlessly, Francis gestured for you to follow her, picking up your bag as she did so. Your eyes widened at the realisation, and you swiftly stood up, hurrying to keep pace with her. “Francis, please be careful, that has my dress and necklace-!” You seethed as the bag swung a little too much, hitting the railing. 

She continued her way up the stairs, wandering you both down the never ending hallways of the house. Your eyes automatically gazed on their family portraits and various other paintings in awe as you stepped up the stairs, wishing to be so rich you could get a portrait of yourself one day.

"Tonight, all members of the Shelby family will be assigned rooms, but Mr. Shelby specifically requested a permanent arrangement for yours," she informed you. With a touch of irony, she opened a door directly opposite Charlie's room and carefully placed your bag on the loveseat within.

At this point, there was no concealing your awe. The room was a marvel to behold. Lavish golden sconces, intricate stained glass, and a captivating view of the grand entrance through the windows. it was a space that could very well overlook your entire residence in Small Heath. Correction, it most certainly did. "Miss Burgess also insisted that this room be yours, as it's in proximity to Charlie's room. Furthermore, their own bedroom is only a few doors down the hall. The lavatory can be found further along the corridor, and you'll find cloths in the linen closet."

“Fuck..” You breathed out, studying the exquisite bedroom. “Thank you.”

Francis nodded, “Shall I come in when Miss Burgess needs you?” She stopped herself, pinching her nose. “You’ll be helping us..nevermind. Apologies.”

“No worries. I’ll be down in a few. Where are we starting, by the way?” 

“The main entertainment room. We begin the dining later on before the ceremony. We’ll start earlier for your sake of getting to the ceremony.” You smiled at the consideration, relieved that you may possibly be able to.

“Right, thank you Francis.” She bowed her head before leaving the bedroom to yourself, shutting the wooden door behind her.

You went over to your bag that was sitting on the loveseat, taking the blade from your garter and slicing the unfinished stitching. You took out your dress, smiling at it briefly before laying it down on the bed. You took your journal out and put it at the desk area, trusting no one would touch it. Everything was out of the bag from the dress to your heels, putting it snugly under the bed.

After a few minutes, you checked on Charlie before going back downstairs, finding all the maids right where they were expected to be. They all looked at you as if you were their leader, and you looked at the underdecored room and the fancy decorations in stacks near a corner.

You smacked your lips, debating whether or not to run out and leave to get out of it. Instead, you clapped your hands, “Right, Ethel, begin with the bowls for the alcohol, everyone else, begin melting the candles to the candelabrums! Please!” Everyone nodded and went to their destinations of their jobs, leaving you to start giving the men jobs. “John, William, Henry, begin to set up the dancing area where the musicians will be playing. Thank you.”

They all nodded, walking away. You stood there, savouring the relaxation you had for those few seconds before getting to work with the other ladies, already awaiting for Grace to call you up just to get away from chaos.

And as quick as it was, three hours had passed and Francis had called for you, letting you leave the other women and go find her. Once you did, she smiled politely. “Miss Burgess will see you now.”

“Thank you, Francis. Once again.” You stepped up the stairs, heading straight for the main bedroom that Grace and Tommy shared. You stopped just as you were about to knock, taking a deep breath in case there was any tension or confessions waiting to happen. As you had said before, you disliked her, didn’t hate her. You also had made the promise to Thomas that this would be a civil, peaceful day. Everyone did. No fights were to happen, and no talk of past mistakes and actions.

Finally, you knocked lightly on the door, greeted by a soft “Come in.” You turned the doorknob and let yourself in, smiling at Grace who was at her vanity. “Good morning, Y/n.”

“Morning Grace.” You replied kindly, stepping more into the room. “How are you?”

Grace laughed with a pure smile on her face, “Excited. How are you? I’ve heard you got here quite early.”

You hummed, studying her hair you had set last night. You had to wash the hair with some of the most expensive and most nicest products one could reach, wait for it to dampen up so it wouldn’t get too frizzy, take setting lotion, gently run it through the hair evenly, then use an amount of bobby pins no one could count to make these curls, and use silk to cover it for the night. Next day, now you have to take it out, and use your fingers to tame the curls before having them set, then put this wonderfully and elegant jewel encrusted aliceband over and make sure before the ceremony, her veil is fit.

You began to remove bobby pins, “I’m alright, thank you..just a little nervous.” You admitted to the woman, yawning in the process. “I’m gonna try my absolute best to make your hair as flawless as possible.”

“I trust you, Y/n, I would’ve chosen one of the maids or someone from London if I didn’t.” Grace spoke softly, filing her nails as she studied you with a concerned look . “Have you brought an outfit? I don’t mean to offend, but-”

“Don’t worry Grace, I have a more appropriate outfit for the occasion in my bedroom, which,” You plopped another pin into the dish, “You have no idea how much I am grateful for. I appreciate the kindness you and Tommy have given me to give me such a room.”

Grace chuckled, looking at you through the mirror. “You’ve helped us much with our baby boy and getting settled here. You earned that room, Y/n.” You smiled in response, staying silent as you focused on her hair and getting it finished so she could move on with other responsibilities.

There were a few minutes of complete silence between the two of you, avoiding Grace’s occasional gaze was a little tough, feeling a little awkward before she sucked in a breath. You looked at her with your eyebrows raised, worried something was wrong. 

“You do think Thomas loves me, yes?”

The question made you freeze, wondering why she’d ask you such a peculiar thing. Everyone has doubts and thoughts on their big day, but what you were confused on was why she was asking specifically you this question. Taking one of the very last pins out, you grabbed the comb that was beside her and finally peered up at her.

After a second of mustering up your thoughts, your thumb ran along the edges of the comb. “Grace, may I give you an honest answer?” She nodded, slight fear visible in her blue eyes. You began to lightly comb through the curls, no longer looking at her. “If anyone else did the things you did to Tommy and Ada, they would be dead. They would be brutally murdered by our men.” You stated gently, turning her head to the side. “But, you, Grace, because you had stolen his heart, because you bloody had him fall in love with you, he didn’t. He didn’t dare to hurt you. And that, my love, that is true love. You betrayed him and yet he still came back, and that shows me how much he does truly love you and forgive you for your selfish mistakes.”

Grace stared at you as you explained your words, not offended, just surprised. “I’m happy for you both, but you wanted the honest truth.”

“I did.” Grace responded quickly, folding her hands in her lap. “And I appreciate it. I appreciate you for treating me well and supporting our decision.”

“Appreciate me?” You quipped, puzzled. “For supporting your decision to get married to Tommy?”

“We both know how Polly feels about this.” She narrowed her eyes at you, her voice more stern. “So yes, I do appreciate you.”

“I think Polly is valid for the way she feels, you know how she is, Grace.” You said truthfully, sighing in the process. “No means to offend, but she doesn’t trust you one bit. Nor has she forgotten. The ones you think have forgotten haven’t, they’re just pretending to do so to either to make Tommy happy, or for their own benefit. I do believe people can change, Grace, believe me when I say this. I believe you have indeed changed, but we will still never forget.”

Grace didn’t say one word, just gazing at you with such..guilt? You didn’t know. “How about we focus on the nice things today, eh? You have a bright baby boy, you’re getting married, you’re filthy rich, have a huge manor, and have a very attractive husband to be. You’re lucky, Grace. Wish I was like you.”

“...You’re in love with-?”

“Oh, god no!” You shouted, shaking your head. “I’d rather hang myself.”

Grace furrowed her brows, “I’m marrying him.” Her voice was stern, as if she was now frustrated with your impulsive choice of words.

Awkwardly peering back up at her, you laughed, “Not- not in a bad way! No! I feel like that with all men! I mean I could never be attracted to one.” Realising what you had just said, you wanted to take the comb in your hand and stab it into your eyes. You wanted to jump out the window and let fate do the job. You wanted to die. Grace looked even more confused now, only one of her eyebrows raised. “Where’s the alice band, love?”

Her lips curved into a genuine smile, and the remark slipped from her memory as she accessed a drawer. From within, she retrieved a velvet box, presenting it to you as though it were a precious gem. “Tommy got it specially made for me. My mother wore one on her wedding day with her veil, so I must continue the tradition. Tommy and I are gonna try for a girl next, so she can carry it on.” She rambled enthusiastically, clapping her hands twice as a sign of her excitement. You smiled in return, gently taking the top off and admiring the band for a second. It was quite actually glimmering. You took it out as carefully as possible and targeted the loops, placing it on top of her head slowly before adjusting it. 

Taking one of the bobby pins, you put it through a loop at one of the ends and placed it through, then ensuring it’d stay by attaching it to her hair. You repeated the action for the other side, your hand lightly laying on her neck. “There we are, Grace.”

She grinned brightly, admiring herself in the mirror as she looked at it from all angles. “It’s gorgeous.” She spoke, turning to you after admiring herself for those few moments as you just stood there, relieved it was okay. She stood up, taking a deep breath before taking both of your hands. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” You returned a small smile, yawning once again. “Sorry.”

“You look absolutely dreadful.” You squeezed your eyes shut at the comment, facepalming yourself as Grace tried to save herself. It was really nice hearing that after all you had done. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Y/n. I meant it in a concerned manner.”

“It’s what happens when you don’t get any sleep.” You groaned, glancing in the mirror and trying to tame your hair slightly. 

“Here,” Grace opened her drawer, her other hand around your wrist. She pulled out a few bejewelled clips, putting her attention back on you. The glimmering Sapphire made your eyes dilate as she took a brush and brushed through your hair for a few minutes, pulling it back and delicately placing the clips in so it stayed. She placed the other two halfway to your roots, securing the clips. “It’s not as much effort as you put into my hair, but I think you look beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “I do. Even the little things count, eh?”

Grace chuckled, “You can keep them.”

“Oh, nonsense-”

“Please. Keep them, they’re my gift for your efforts.” Grace stopped you as you looked at her with wide eyes. “Sapphire looks wonderful with your eyes. And it is your birthstone, yes?”

The consideration and kindness made you bipolar with how you felt about Grace. It was strange. On one side, you had already explained to her that you literally disliked her, and so did most of the family. The gesture was unexpected, to say the least. On the other hand, she most likely wanted to heal the wounds she made with kindness, like right then. Nonetheless, after you thought, you gave her a small smile, murmuring an appreciation.

“If I’m holding you from tasks, you may go. I apologise for keeping you so long.” Grace offered, pushing the drawer shut and walking over to where her dress was. You looked at the clock and silently gasped, a fucking hour had passed.

“Yes, I actually must. I have to get ready myself.” You said in a panicked tone, glancing up at her one last time. “Is there anything else you need, Grace?”

“For you to get bloody ready.”

And so you did.

After her words left her lips, you swiftly made your way to your bedroom, the door meeting a resounding slam as it closed behind you. The champagne coloured satin dress laid before you, accompanied by the strap pumps recently gifted by Tommy during his New York trip with Grace, and, of course, the opal earrings from France. Except for moments of dirty tasks, the ring your mother gave you adorned your finger without failure.

Your first task involved delicately fastening your stockings to the garters, the fabric ascending to your lower thigh with a clip to your garter. Then, quickly removing your previous attire due to the frigid temperature, you hastened to slip the lightweight dress over your head, your arms seamlessly finding their places within the designated sleeves. A glance at the mirror prompted a meticulous adjustment, as you meticulously smoothed out any creases or imperfections. A content smile graced your lips as the dress obediently hugged your curves and elegantly emphasised your waist..and your cleavage just slightly.

A muffled thud against your door drew your eyebrows together in puzzlement; Francis or Grace typically announced their arrival without delay. With cautious steps, you approached the door, a soft gasp escaping as you found Charlie outside, his expression marred by a frown. "Oh, baby," you cooed, your arms embracing the…husky child as you lifted him up with a quiet grunt. You closed the door behind you, setting Charlie comfortably in a cocoon of pillows. “What were you doing out there silly?” You rhetorically asked, booping his nose which elicited a cute laugh from him. You grinned before stepping away, continuing to get ready. You closed the necklace around your neck that was simply pearls, put your earrings in with a little bit of trouble to get them through, and that was practically it. You had painted your nails the night before and your light makeup was already on.

“Charlie, honey,” You sat on the bed next to him, getting your pumps on. “I’m gonna be gone for a while, so you’re gonna go to Francis, okay?” The frown had returned as you pet his hair back lovingly, adjusting the last strap to your shoe. “Mummy will say goodbye before she leaves too.”

You stood back up and put your wrap over your shoulders, putting a coat clip in the middle so it stayed put. You then picked Charlie back up carefully, bringing him back to his bedroom where Grace was heading.              

“Y/n? Please let Francis know General Curran is welcomed inside once he arrives.” You nodded, running down the stairs just to attempt to get to the church on time, checking on the maids one last time before heading outside after letting Francis know of Grace’s message.

Panic settled in when you lost track of even planning how’d you get there, afraid of ruining your dress and looking like an idiot. You felt fucked in this situation, minutes of standing outside and debating whether to just miss it or not.

“You alright, pretty girl?” You recognised the voice immediately.

Turning to the man who had driven you earlier, he had a cheesy grin on his face as he leaned against his car. You rolled your eyes, heading right towards it. “Thank you.” You muttered as he opened the car door for you, shutting it behind. He got into his seat, immediately beginning to drive. 

“Mr. Shelby sent me for you.”

“Tommy?”

“Arthur.” He corrected. You laughed to yourself as you searched your clutch for everything you needed, shutting it once you confirmed you did.

The drive wasn’t far at all, which was the tiniest bit shocking. Once at the church, you paid him another five quid before exiting the vehicle, yelling an appreciation as you rushed yet quietly tip-toed inside.   

Arthur’s eyes lit up as you entered the church, smirking like he had just won a bet. You returned the smile before awkwardly getting on the side that obviously wasn’t full of calvary men, everyone there greeting you as you tried to get somewhere comfortable and not full of crying children.

“Y/n,” Polly called, clearly in a mood. “Here.”

With a sense of tension, you offered apologies under your breath to everyone in your acquaintance, then manoeuvred yourself to slip in behind Linda. Polly reached out, her hand enveloping your forearm as she drew you closer to her. A faint flush coloured your cheeks at her touch, and you stole a quick glance up at her.

She subjected you to a thorough gaze, her eyes meticulously taking in every inch of your being in what seemed like admiration. "You're quite the vision," she remarked, her tone suggestive of approval.

Caught off guard by her comment, your eyes widened, a hint of worry creeping in. "Oh, well, yes. Is that alright?" you stammered, concern lacing your words.

Polly cocked a brow at your question, “You worry too much, sweet girl. You look lovely.” Her hand went to your upper back, rubbing it before taking it back to herself. You couldn’t help but frown when her touch left you, feeling cold once again.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Miss Y/l/n.” Linda spoke ever so quietly, making you slowly turn towards her with a faux smile.

“No need for formalities. I’m not that old, Linda.” Polly quietly chuckled from behind you, that making you swiftly turn around again. “What? I’m not!” You shouted in a hush manner. “I’m not even 24!-”

“Hush, you silly girl. I know. I was suggesting it to someone else.” Her words were jumbled up at the end of the sentence, making sure Linda couldn’t hear it. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, feeling humiliated at this point. You cleared your throat and raised your hands to your cheeks, waiting for yourself to cool down.

A boy came around with what you had assumed was the chorus, handing it to everyone with a cheerful smile. Once he got to you, Polly, and Linda, Linda took one graciously and right when you were about to, Polly’s hand quickly snatched your wrist without even sparing a look at you, her tight grip taking you by surprise.

“Some of us know the words.” Polly firmly stated, looking down at the boy as if he was a peasant. You gave him an apologetic smile, submitting to Polly silently by not taking the paper. He walked away quickly, leaving you to finally release the breath you were holding in. Before you could even say a word, music had started playing, and Grace had arrived.

Seconds later, Grace with General Curran were walking down the aisle, everyone at this point silent except the chorus. Her veil was over her face, the purple satin dress dragging behind her elegantly. Your hands were clasped and a small smile graced your features, unaware of the fact that Polly was gazing down at you with adoration still, not a care in the world for Grace.

Vows were exchanged quickly and the knot was tied with a final kiss, one side of the room erupting with clapping and booming cheers, whilst the opposite was quiet and ever so elegantly clapping their hands. Polly slowly clapped, watching them turn back to you with not the most enthusiastic looks ever, but satisfied as Thomas raised his fist in the air like he had victory.

“Part one is done.” You said, adjusting your ring. “Now it’s the actual wedding.”

First part of the actual wedding was the annual Shelby and Burgess family photograph to be taken. Now, this was a tough part, you didn’t feel appropriately included in the picture since you weren’t a Shelby, awkwardly hugging yourself for warmth as you stood back, judgingly watching the four girls fight over a bloody bouquet.

“Oi! Y/n! The fuck are you doin’?” Arthur shouted, obviously confused which had made you even more confused.

“I’m not a Shelby. Not family, Arthur. Take the picture.” You shouted back through the wind, wincing at the chill that was sent up your spine.

“Oi, are you fuckin’ joking? Get up here!” John called out, waving his hand.

“John, I-”

Thomas cleared his throat, “Y/n, get the fuck in the picture before I have Arthur drag you up here.” He stated as if he was tired from the day already. You widen your eyes before huffing, stepping up the stairs and going to the Shelby side. “With the wives.”

Polly watched as you squished yourself beside her, Linda and Esme behind you both. You huffed once again, putting your hair behind your ears before the picture was taken. Arthur then stood beside you now, leaving you squished between Arthur and Polly. You couldn’t deny it was nice, they were both warm. He put his arm around your shoulder, “Alright! Take the photograph!” He shouted, an automatic smile tugging at your lips. The light flashed instantly, though, another type of chill was sent up your spine at this point. One even Polly could feel. 

You all stepped off as Grace began to enter the carriage, and your eyes met Tommy’s. He stared at you for only a couple seconds, cocking his head to the right before getting into the carriage with her. You looked, and you didn’t know who you were looking at, you just knew it wasn’t good.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“What the fuck do you mean the bloody Russians are here, Tommy?!” You paced in front of his desk, your voice almost a cry. 

“Refugee.” He corrected, his voice gruff. “Apparently.”

“Like I give a fuck! This is your bloody wedding day! What- what will you tell Grace? Hm? What will you tell her if-”

He sighed, pinching his nose. “I’ll tell her the truth. I just need you to keep an eye on things, because this is my fucking wedding day, and I have to spend time with my wife.” Your eyes rolled at his words, frustrated you now had this responsibility. “Don’t go around telling fucking Polly, or Arthur, or John about this until needed. You understand?” he pointed his finger at you, narrowing his eyes.

Your arms folded across your chest, squinting your eyes at him. “So what am I supposed to say when it’s obvious I’m so panicked?”

“That you’re fucking afraid you’ll never get married, something along those stupid fuckin’ lines. Point is, it is my bloody job.” He rose from his seat, pacing around the desk, and leaned slightly over you as his finger made contact with your chest with each emphasized word.“Stay fucking quiet, yeah? Nothing will happen.”

Scoffing, you retorted. “That’s what you always say. You always say nothing will happen. You always promise that nothing will go wrong. You always-” Before you could finish your sentence, his hand gripped the back of your jaw firmly, swiftly tilting your head up toward him, a gesture reminiscent of a whore getting forced to give a blowjob. No, it wasn't an appealing situation.

His face inched closer to yours, huffing. “Nothing. Will. Fucking. Happen.” The words emerged from his mouth with a coarse and irritated tone. He released your jaw moments later and then exited the room in a rush, leaving you feeling frustrated, nearly on the brink of tears, and seething with anger. Your fingertips soothed the irritated skin where he had gripped you, and you took deep breaths, determined not to ruin your makeup.

After taking minutes to yourself, you walked out of the office and into the bustling rooms full of music and dancing and alcohol, hoping to god you didn’t look bad. You pushed through crowds, feeling overwhelmed from everything going on and having to keep a lookout for god knows what.

All the men were being called downstairs, so the crowds were getting smaller, to your luck. You rushed to where alcohol was being served and gave yourself a generous amount, chugging all of it in one go. You gave smiles to everyone who passed, the only concerns in your mind was keep your dress clean and to make sure nothing happened. No fights, no bets, no cocaine, no prostitution. Now you realised, you were literally fucking security. Just glamourised.

At least you looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Y/n!” Ada chirped, her arms coming to your side and squeezing you tightly. “God, I haven’t seen you in awhile! You look lovely! A little skinnier, quite actually.”

The laugh that elicited from your lips was light and genuine, your arms going to wrap around her as well. “Tell me about it,  I’ve missed you. Tommy practically holds me hostage here.” You joked, laying a kiss on her cheek after she backed away.

“I pity you. He’s my own brother and I couldn’t even do that. Pity and admire you.” Her eyes went to the sapphire clips in your hair, her eyebrows slowly raising in curiosity. “Now I know you’d never spoil yourself like this.”

You looked around you before drawing closer to Ada, murmuring. “Grace gave them to me.” The smile that came onto her face was almost mischievous, your eyes filling with slight fear. “Do not dare to even mention this to Polly. I’ll get the most passive aggressive talk of my life.”

“So you’re fond of Grace?”

“I talked to her. She knows I dislike her, but I gave her my reasoning to why I’m not like Polly. Tommy is happy, and if she makes him happy, I’m not gonna be a cunt. Polly is valid, of course, for her feelings.”

“Aw, someone wants to make Polly happy.” Ada grinned as you side eyed her, getting a bit flustered. “I’ll make sure she has no eye on any man tonight.”

“Shut up, Ada.” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. “I gotta let it pass.”

“It’s been like this for four years. Now I may not be the most clever, but I do not think that is an option anymore.” Ada sighed, peering at you with a little pity. “How much do you love her, Y/n?”

The question made your head jerk at her, shaking your head from left to right. “I refuse to answer this here, Ada. I don’t want anyone knowing. I didn’t even want you to know cause I’m afraid.” 

Ada frowned, her hand coming to your hair. “Why would you be afraid of me? I’m literally Ada fucking Thorne.” She said as if the statement was obvious and would change everything. You rolled your eyes and smacked your lips, getting another serving of alcohol.

“Just, don’t say a word to Pol. Please, Ada.” Ada compiled by using her two fingers to mimic zipping her lips up, taking a sip of her drink afterwards. You huffed before looking around, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of Polly being obviously disturbed. 

She made eye contact with you, speeding over to you with fake smiles to everyone else. Ada watched the scene as she did, Polly’s hand immediately placed on your shoulder as she leaned in close to your ear. "Știți de cei care nu sunt pe listă?"

Your breath hitched, discovering something inside of you when she spoke Romani. You didn’t know what it was, well, you did. The way her warm breath fanned your neck and her gravelly accent made you a mess, stammering for such a simple reply.

“N-no.” You denied knowing, trying your absolute best to lie. Ada watched the scene with a snarky grin as she stared in amusement. 

Polly hummed, pulling away from you and squeezing your shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

A couple of hours passed, and you found yourselves gathered in the dining room, a medley of conversations filling the air. Sitting beside Ada, you listened as she delved into politics with an evident passion, a reassuring sight. However, across the table, the expressions were a mix of disinterest and utter interest at Ada's discourse. You nodded along mindlessly before realising your drink was now empty, “Excuse me for a moment.” You smiled at everyone, glaring at the refugee who sat across from you. No, it was not an invitation for him to follow you, yet he did subtly. You took your glass and made your way to the next room, beginning to pour some whiskey into it.

“I have yet to introduce myself,” The voice made you freeze, cursing to yourself as you turned around. “I-”

“I know who you are, Mr. Kaledin. Very well so.” You cut him off, glaring at him from below. “What do you want from me? I’m not in the mood for flirtatious traps.” 

He was caught off guard, a quiet chuckle left his lips before returning his gaze to you, “You know, where I come from, ladies have manners. Russia. They introduce themselves elegantly.” He reminded you of where he was from, talking to you like you were some sort of moron.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your head jerking to glance at him, “Oh, you’d like to talk of manners, eh? Hm?” You taunted, your glare now as sharp and threatening as a knife. His lips pursed as you began to speak. “Well, if we’re on that topic, I don’t think it’s very mannerly, or appropriate, or fucking smart to crash Thomas’s wedding day, to talk about business. Where I come from, people don’t ruin weddings to talk about fucking business, because it’s fucking human decency. But I guess you Russians lack that bloody simple decency, yes?” Your voice was extremely condescending towards the end. “Elegance currently isn’t my main concern. My main concern is you horrendous bastards ruining Tommy’s special day. Especially you, Mr. Kaledin.”

He studied you as you filled your cup with even more whiskey, licking his lips, “Where are you from?”

“France. Bagnères de Luchon.” You turned around, your back facing him. You observed him through the mirror, smiling to yourself. “You know, there's a certain saying we have in France, Anton. Comme on fait son lit, on se couche…I think you may relate to it later tonight.”

A chuckle elicited from his throat, “And what must that mean?” 

An amused, tiny smile tugged at your lips, swirling the amber liquid in your glass as you turned around to face him. “Comme on fait son lit, on se couche, means, figuratively speaking, you will take the responsibility for your actions, and deal with the consequences. As one makes one's bed, one lies down.” Emphasising each word with your fingers, you could hear how he slightly gulped, a quiet giggle escaping your lips, a faux look of innocence taking over your eyes.

 He stared at you, processing the explanation. You studied him for a bit longer before beginning to step away, laying your hand on his shoulder and whispering ever so softly,, “And you, my friend, have made your bed. And I assure you, Mr. Kaledin, you will be lying in it by the end of this glorious night.”

As you finally stepped away with a now, frustrated yet victorious  demeanour, Ada and Polly were peering at you as you entered the dining room, Kaledin bashfully following from behind. Your dress flowed elegantly behind you as you sat down, Polly leaning back in her chair to watch you and Ada already staring at you. Polly’s glare was cut off by Kaledin trying with her now, which you had tuned out.

“What did you say to the poor man? He was ten times paler than he was before.” Now, Ada had no clue what was happening, nor did you want her to know. You turned to look at her, attempting to muster up some sort of convincing excuse.

“He attempted to flirt with me and I shut it down with..class..and I guess he has never had a woman stand up to him before…yeah.” 

Ada squinted her eyes towards you, her lips in a thin line as she processed the explanation. You gulped down your whiskey, praying to every god that she’d just believe it. Ada hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “So he is making his rounds to Polly?”

You rolled your eyes, groaning. “Don’t even. I can’t handle more stress than I already have. I don’t need to strangle myself with the thought of her dating a man and me having to see it.” 

“Four.” Lizzie whispered as she passed by swiftly, leaving you utterly confused, your mouth open to ask her what she meant, yet she was too quick.. You glanced at Ada for an explanation.

She stammered, not wanting to stress you out more. “Um..four..men are giving Polly the..eye.” She offered her full glass of whiskey to you, pouring some in your glass as you obviously did indeed get more stressed. Your fists clenched and tears burned at your eyes, wanting to just pass out at this point and fall asleep for a week straight in your alluring new bedroom. “It doesn’t mean she’ll fuck them. It’s Polly we’re talking about.”

“How does she notice them but for four years she doesn’t notice me at all? Am I invisible, Ada? Is that what it is? Does she not like me?” Your voice cracked, almost inaudible so Polly wouldn’t hear, no one for that matter. Ada shook her head from left to right.

“She adores you. Stop worrying so much. You’re going to start getting grey hairs.”

“Oh, god no!” You almost shouted, Ada laughing at your reaction as your hands flew to your scalp. “I’m too young!”

Finally, Grace and Tommy strode in, Arthur following from behind. You sighed in relief, muttering to Ada, “Grace let me know they’re trying for a girl..but I didn’t think during their fucking wedding.” Ada put her hand over her mouth, the whole table seeing the two of you like the giggly schoolgirls who were gossiping.

“Thank you all for coming, sorry we are late.” Thomas spoke with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, Grace sat next to him as he stood. “Now, I wanted to give my toast to my..lovely wife..” ….And this is where you took your chance to close your eyes and just have a tiny bit of relaxation, the tiniest bit. It was just the speech to Grace, nothing to miss-

“To the Bride!” 

Jerking up, you immediately grabbed your glass and stood up, muttering the same words. Tommy stared at you as he noticed you were technically sleeping throughout the short speech, rolling his eyes. You sat back down, adjusting your posture and making sure to not fall into another short slumber.

Tommy cleared his throat, looking nervous. “According to..tradition..my best man will say a few words.” And with that sentence, you immediately knew why Tommy was nervous. You were absolutely awake now, waiting to see this. 

“Go on, here he goes! Go on, Arthur!” John cheered, clapping his hands. Arthur gave a shy wave of his hands, and you were already smiling at what was already happening.

“I’d like to..erm..I’m not one for speeches-”

“Sing then!”

“I will later, John.” He murmured, and his stance was as if he was asking his mother for something from the shops and he was excited yet nervous for her response. You took out a cigarette and lit it, blocking the smoke from Ada’s face with your hand. “But, er, I do, er, I do have some words written down here..on this piece of paper. This doesn’t include everything I want to say-”

“Arthur just, just read what we wrote down, eh?” You had to bite down on your lip as you took a sip of your whiskey, making eye contact with Thomas who looked incredibly annoyed. “Come on now.”

“I will, Tom, I will. But uh…first…a few words from..from the heart.” Thomas dropped his head in defeat, Grace comforting him by rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, Ada pinching your shoulder in response.

Arthur cleared his throat, “Um..this man here, my brother Tommy, help me survive through some of the worst times-” Thomas coughed loudly and you couldn’t contain yourself much longer, covering your mouth.

“It’s a wedding, Arthur, tell a joke.” Michael flatly said, clearly bored.

John agreed, “Yeah, tell a joke!” 

Arthur continued on nonetheless, “What I’m trying to say is that..my brother and the love of a good woman pulled me through that,” He glanced at Linda as she smiled happily at her important mention, making you roll your eyes. “Now, Tommy also, er, has the love of a good woman. Her name is Grace..like the grace of the good lord..and even though, the circumstances of the union was tragic-”

Your laugh released itself, immediately covering your mouth back up as you sunk in your chair, not even caring at everyone looking at you. This was probably the most you had laughed in awhile, Ada giggling a bit with you as well. Tommy took over the..speech..”Let’s raise a toast, eh? To- to love, peace, to marriage.”

“Fan-fantastic job Arthur, you did..it was poetic.” You complimented, trying to reassure the obvious humiliated man. You looked to your right to see Polly leaning back in her chair, glaring at you. That made you giggle even more, mouthing a fake apology.

Arthur walked away, Linda and Thomas following him. Now you could really laugh, literal tears coming to your eyes. “Jesus, Y/n!”

“I’m sorry! That- oh my god! He brought up the union Ada, the union! In a wedding speech! A bloody toast! The union wasn’t tragic, that speech was!” Ada practically spat out her drink, covering her mouth as well now too. 

“Stop. Stop. Oh my god.” Ada choked, taking a deep breath. You giggled one last time, saying a prayer under your breath so you wouldn’t go to hell for bloody…you didn’t even know.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I thought I did good.”

“Oh, you-” You didn’t want to lie to the man, sighing. “Arthur, you know Tommy isn’t all sentimental like that. It would’ve been fantastic if it were for Ada or Curly. And, Art, I love you so fucking much, but why did you bring up the union? What- what reason?”

He grumbled, “Linda said confronting our souls with the tragedies in our past set us for eternal peace with ourselves..thought that’d help Tommy.” He looked down shamefully, and you were trying again not to giggle. “I thought speaking from the heart would bring- bring some peace to this night, hmm?”

Taking a deep breath, you sadly smiled at him, nodding. “I know. I know. Linda is uh, really..influential, hm?”

“Yes. But it’s for the better.” He stared at the his hands and you laid your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to you.

“You had good intentions, Art. I’m proud of you for trying.”

“Thank you.” He shyly appreciated it, smiling. “Now, you go have fun. I’ll be outside.”

“I’ll try.”

With one last smile, you walked out of the hallway and into the bustling party, looking for anyone you clearly knew. You picked up another glass of alcohol, saying a prayer to your liver before taking a sip of it.

After a few minutes of looking, you felt your heart slightly drop at the sight of, as you assumed, one of the men that was eyeing her up, and Polly talking. Jealousy consumed you quicker than ever, feeling rage to yourself. To the stupid man. Tears brimmed at your eyes at how bad the envious feeling was, and you couldn’t help but stare in absolute despair, watching her be so happy with someone else. You wanted to almost die at that moment, your brain going at lightning speed to the worst conclusions that he would replace you instantly or any hope you had left would vanish.

“Can I talk to you?” A gruff voice alerted you, “Privately.”

A sigh left your lips when you heard Thomas. “If you don’t wound me, yes.” You replied back snarky, taking a small sip of your champagne. He murmured an agreement, turning your head to look at him and nodding your head. 

Thomas led you into a secluded hallway, leaning against the wall opposite of you and pulling out two cigarettes. He handed you one, putting his lighter in between the two of you so you could light each of your own. He sucked in a breath before speaking, the smoke fading into the air. “Mr. Kaledin is a red.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes squinting in utter confusion. “I thought we were paying the Whites?”

“Exactly. Anton, is most likely not Anton. Mr. Kaledin, who was supposed to be given the money, has most likely been killed by the Soviet government, and now their spy is pretending to be him for the cash.” He said frustratingly, leaning his head against the wall. “He told me that Duchess Tatiana Petronova will be bringing us the ten thousand U.S dollars, in crisp cash. Supposed to be from Mr. Churchill.”

“Tatiana?” You questioned. “..The niece of Duke Leon Petrovich Romanov?”

“Bingo.” He replied flatly, unenthusiastically snapping his fingers. “Including him, and his wife, Izabella.”

“Oh, how gracious.” You took a drag of your cigarette, “Did they have to leave Russia because of Stalin?”

“Yes.” He said, almost proud of you which was odd. “They’re here..to gain power. The Bolshevik’s, the Reds, have much more. They need weapons. And the new power trip the Bolshevik government has is the Red Terror.” Thomas emphasised the name with his eyes widening, his tone a little louder. “So, the Whites needed to evacuate immediately, which is why the Royals have made their way into safe haven London. Away from any communists who threaten them and their safety.” 

“So the Aristocrats need weapons to fight the reds,” You glanced at Tommy, “And Mr. Churchill is helping..us? Fight the Reds?” He hummed, studying you. “And Mr. Kaledin is part of the communist Bolsheviks?” He hummed again. “So basically, death for him. Tatiana gives us the money forwarded from Churchill. And now we are involved with the aftermath of the Russian Revolution.”

“Atta girl.” He gave you a fake smile. “With the cash we receive tonight, as I’ve told you-”

“You’re purchasing the wharves at the Boston wharfs for more business.”

He nodded, “If this all goes smoothly. I’ve told Grace, she didn’t react too badly.”

“Ah, I’m so happy for you.” You sarcastically stated, folding your arms across your chest. “Tommy, is there anything else or can I go enjoy myself a while longer?”

A long pause happened between the both of you before he nodded, “Yes. Just make sure no trouble happens, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You began to walk away, smoking the last of your cigarette. “All my luck, Tommy.”

Now, finally walking away, you sighed in relief. Not too much relief, since you knew murder and fights were going on currently and this was supposed to be a peaceful day, but some. 

You sat down on a nearby loveseat, the fire behind you sending a delightful chill up your spine as a sense of warmth took over your body. You stared at the ground, not in too much of a mood to go socialise with others, nor did you want to stand up again and walk for no reason with how sore you already were. Your free hand smoothed over your satin dress, the other holding the burnt out cigarette. You felt lost on what to do in that moment, drained over Polly and what was going on around you.

Familiar footsteps had raised your awareness as they became louder and louder the close they got. Still, you didn’t look up from the floor until you recognised the two heels that came into your vision, feeling the space next to you dip as they sat down. You gulped, feeling their tense aura immediately.

“You’ve barely spoken to me, you know.”

Polly was trying to get her mind off the whole situation and put it on another one. You. She watched your nervous demeanour as you looked up with wide eyes, as if you were clueless to what she was speaking of.

“Pardon?”

“This whole day, you’ve barely said a word to me. I’ve caught you staring, but you haven’t spoken to me.” Now your cheeks turned slightly red, heart dropping at her words. 

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your fingers. “I really didn’t think you’d even notice me with all these men.” You mumbled extremely quietly, to the point where even Polly could barely hear you. She did, studying you, her eyebrow raising at your disappointed tone and frown, and the way you couldn’t even look her way. 

Polly took a drag of her cigarette, leaning back and using her arm as a support. “Are you..jealous?”

Now, your heart really dropped. You looked at her quickly, stammering for an answer that wasn’t the truth. “Um, no. N-not at all. I just..uh..didn’t want to distract you from all the..handsome men..that were eyeing you.” When you said handsome, you felt a pang in your heart while saying it. You literally winced. 

“You’re jealous.”

“Polly. Why would I be jealous?”

“That’s my exact wonder.” she retorted, her tone carrying a hint of allurement. “‘Why would sweet, precious Y/n be jealous that I’m being eyed up?’ has been my wonder this whole evening. I can see it in your pretty eyes, sweetheart. I’m not blind.” She watched as your face get redder and redder, a satisfied smirk tugging at her scarlet lips. Her hand laid on your knee as she leaned in, “No one can lie to me, sweet girl.”

“Stop it, Polly.” You murmured, looking to the other side now, trying to cool down your fluster. “I’m not- I wasn’t- I was never jealous.”

Polly hummed, “Look me in the eye and say it.”

“Why are you so intrigued with me being jealous, Pol?” You asked mindlessly, hearing her click her tongue made you cross your legs automatically, realising what you had just said.

Polly smiled, “So the sweet girl is jealous?”

“Don’t you have like..a bunch of men to go and talk to?” You grumbled, embarrassed. Polly laughed, using her hand to make you look at her by placing it on your cheek, turning your head slightly forcefully.

“The only person I want to talk to is you.” Her smile had faltered, replaced by a solemn expression that caught your immediate attention. Gazing at Polly through weary eyes, your lips involuntarily parted as you let out a quiet sigh. You were lost at what to say, knowing nothing of what you felt was right or appropriate. You didn’t know if Polly was just trying to get it out of you with the flirtatious act, or play with your feelings. You didn’t know anything really when it came to her, all logic and standards flying out the window while in her beloved presence. She could see the hesitation and almost dread as you thought.

“I really don’t see why, Polly.” you managed, the words stumbling from your lips.

She paused, a frown gracing her features. 

Quietly observing you, she finally murmured, "What must I do to help you see why, Y/n?"

The mental anguish nearly prompted a whimper, the answer eluding you in its complexity. Succumbing to defeat, you gazed at her with vulnerable eyes.

Abruptly, a man appeared before you both, clearing his throat and offering a smile. Meeting his gaze, you reciprocate the gesture, while Polly's demeanour remains fixed in an unamused glare.

"It appears the two of you are unaccompanied... Would either of you care for a dance? Perhaps at the same time?" His wink was accompanied by an unsettling grin that made you cringe. You recognised the implication extended beyond mere dancing. "I must say, I am quite the cha-”

“We’re not interested.” Polly cut him off with an annoyed tone. “Please be kind enough to step away, as we were having a conversation.” Polly didn’t sound too kind, her glare even scaring you a bit. It was the exact one she gave the boy in the church, almost degrading. 

He scoffed, “I think the pretty one over here can answer the question for herself. Don’t you wanna dance with a man like me? You don’t need any woman sayin’ no for you, you know that.” 

A sense of fear hazed your eyes, stuttering for an answer. “It’s a no for me, I’m-”

“Now you’re just saying that for her. Come on, just one dance, princess.” He didn’t stop his offerings, so forceful that it made you want to run away. Your eyes hazed with fear as you looked over at Polly desperately for help, for which she complied. She laid her hand on your knee, clearing her throat with a devilish smile.

“Listen to me,” She began, “If you don’t leave in a matter of three seconds, I will be sure to have you cut. The Shelby men are busy enough, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind dealing with another man whore.”

The man gulped, his eyes wide. He didn’t say another word, backing away immediately and losing himself into the crowds. A melodious chuckle danced in Polly's breath, “And there he goes.”

“Thank you.” You murmured in a relieved breath. “I’m sorry for needing your help.”

“Don’t be.” Polly lit another cigarette for herself. “We women stick together. I’ll never let you get taken advantage of, Y/n. I swear.”

You smiled sadly, cocking your head to the side. “You never swear.” 

Polly glanced up at you, smoke leaving her scarlet lips. “I do now.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Oh, it’s so clear. She loves you.”

“Shut up, Ada. It can’t be. Don’t bloody enable me.” 

Hours later, you were in your bedroom again but now in comfortable clothing. You sat on your bed and Ada sat across from you, and Charlie was sleeping peacefully next to you, snug and clung to your waist.

The talk of Polly and you had come up again somehow and you had brought up the last conversation you had with Polly, and now you were here. In bed as Ada enabled the delusion of Polly ever possibly being in love with you. 

“Y/n, I have known my aunt Polly my whole life, and by what you’re telling me, she most definitely loves you.” She shoved a chocolate in her mouth, “You have to tell me what queer sex is like.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Ada!” You burned up and put your face in your hands, hearing Ada giggle. “Ada she- my god, I haven’t even thought about us being together, let alone fucking.” You looked back up at her, “She probably isn’t even attracted to me.”

Ada chewed the chocolate fully, “You’re absolutely gorgeous. You know what’s surprised me all these years?”

“Hm?”

“How Tommy hasn’t begged or tried to fuck you. I mean, look at you! He goes for a betrayer but not the one who saved his bloody life?!” Ada being fascinated with your sex life was one of the many firsts. And now she was talking of her brother in this, which had fascinated you even more. “Speaking of, have you even had sex?”

“How many drinks did you have again?” You countered, taking a chocolate and biting into it. She tilted her head, making you roll your eyes and sigh heavily. “No..it’s pathetic, I know.”

Ada shrugged, “It’s okay, Polly has lots of experience. She won’t mind being your first.” The casual statement made you groan, shaking your head from side to side.

“Ada, she-”

“Listen to me.” Ada’s voice turned firm, causing you to immediately fall silent. “I know my aunt better than bloody you, and I know that look in her eyes when she looks at you. I saw you two on that loveseat tonight, and the way she looks at you. It’s so full of…love, and adoration. I’ve never seen her more intrigued with someone except you. And, Polly isn’t blind. If I can see how flustered you get when she’s here, she most definitely can too.”

Your gaze lowered to the blankets, and you began to utter a response. "But what about all those other men?"

"They pale in comparison to you, Y/n. You're a bloody Peaky Blinder. No man can hold a candle to you." A radiant smile graced your lips as she spoke, instilling a renewed sense of self-assurance within you. She paused, her hand finding yours, offering a reassuring squeeze while flashing a supportive smile. "You'll find your way through this." She glanced sideways. "And if I'm proven right, I expect five quid."

"You Shelby lot, always so bloody confident."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Right..this..might be slightly uncomfortable.” 

The next morning found you wide awake and alert, as you received the call to discreetly transfer the previous night's earnings to the secure vault in the betting shop. Little did you realise how early it was, which left you drained and fatigued. You found yourself leaning against your dresser, on the brink of exhaustion, while Polly carefully dressed you with wads of cash, stuffing it in every crevice and secure place. You wished you were being stuffed some other w-

"You know, four years back, I could never have imagined standing here, getting dressed with three thousand United States dollars," Polly mused with a chuckle, slipping yet another bundle of cash into the belt cinched around your waist. "From nurse to gangster..a remarkable character development, eh?"

Polly hummed, her tone reflecting her amusement. "It's a drastic change. Yet, I'm truly glad to have you here with us. It's hard to picture it any other way." Handing you three stacks of bills, she added, "Now, be a good girl for me and put those into your garters." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up at you after a beat, her fingers teasingly tracing up your leg. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer me to take care of that?"

The way your breath hitched and your eyes grew wider made Polly’s smirk grow, an ache between your thighs forming at the bold offer or..flirt. This had to be more than flirting. Her eyes stared into yours as you stammered for an answer, making it clear you had never really been flirted with.

“I’m, I- I can do it myself, t-thank you.” You took the cash from her and hiked your dress all the way up to your upper thigh, putting the cash in and dropping the fabric down. Polly chuckled before continuing to put the cash on you, watching as you finally began to compose yourself. 

Polly finally finished, the cash she was carrying already under her light blue trench coat. You both chatted some more before separating, you going to Arthur and Polly going to Tommy.

“Morning, darling.” You greeted, getting into the car.

"Morning," Arthur grumbled, his eyes following as you somewhat awkwardly manoeuvred yourself into the car, the money sticking to you and making the entry a bit more challenging than usual. His foul mood was palpable, casting a shadow that was hard to ignore.

Once he began driving, conversation flowed from your lips. "So, how did things go last night, Arthur?"

For a minute or two, he kept his silence, his gaze locked onto the road ahead. You patiently awaited his response, your gaze fixed on him. With a deep inhale, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's dead."

"I figured as much," you responded thoughtfully. "But how are you, Art? That's what I really want to know."

Again, Arthur fell into a contemplative pause, his emotions seeming to wrestle within him. Your heart ached at the sight of his obvious grief. He sighed heavily, words escaping his lips laden with vulnerability. "I... I don't feel right," he mumbled, his voice cracking. "He..he kept pleading 'for the love of God' in his final seconds, and I... I feel like I've lost the love of... God." He continued, his voice trembling, "If Linda found out, she'd probably hate me."

“Hold on," you interjected, raising a finger. "He said 'For the love of God'?"

"Twice," Arthur winced, his grip on the steering wheel betraying the emotional torment he was grappling with. "All for the sake of business..."

You didn't intend to exacerbate the situation, but Arthur's incredulous expression prompted you to speak. His gaze shifted to you as he sensed your unease. With a tense posture, you sat upright, your eyes darting around, and your hand hovering near your mouth. "What's the bloody matter?" he asked, concerned.

"It's nothing," you assured him.

"Golden, I swear to fuck, if you don’t bloody tell me-," he pressed, his gaze on the road.

"Just promise you won't get angry," you asserted, your attention remaining fixed on the road ahead. He agreed with a nod and extended his hand for a reassuring shake. You obliged, your reluctance to meet his eyes evident. You stuttered, "Um... the Bolsheviks, the Reds... they don't... believe in God." A few seconds of silence hung in the air. "And I'm not sure if Mr. Kaledin would maintain that act in his final moments."

Arthur's breathing grew heavy, and you found yourself instinctively drawing closer to the car door. "You can't get angry, Arthur! You shook on it!”

He cleared his throat, “Thank you for telling me.”

The calm appreciation wasn’t normal. You stared at him, still hugging the car door. “Golden, I really hope you fuckin’ know I’d never hurt ya’, right?”

“Um.” You said, “Yeah..yeah.” 

“None of us Shelby men would ever dare to hit ya’, and if one of them did, they’d have to deal with me.” He tapped your knee awkwardly. “And if they ain’t a Shelby, they’re dead.”

You laughed, touching the sides of your neck to see if bruises formed. They indeed did, making you wince when you even lightly touched them.

An hour later and you were back in Small Heath in front of the betting shop. You got yourself out of the car and made your way into the shop, greeting various men and shaking various hands as you tried to rush to the back as fast as you could. There, you met Polly and Thomas, and they both looked at you.

“Hi,” You softly greeted, untying your coat as you stepped into the vault. You silently started taking money out from your belt, stacking them along with the other wads of cash. “I think this was the most expensive outfit I’ve ever worn.”

“Yup.” Thomas said with a cigarette in his mouth, “I have to go to London. If you need a ride back to Warwickshire, let Arthur know.” Thomas left the vault with a nod, leaving you and Polly alone.

“I gotta tell you something when you get back. Or Arthur will let you know.” You shouted when he was on his way out, continuing putting the cash away with a shrug. He mumbled something you could barely understand in response.

“And that is?” Polly questioned, fixing her gloves.

“Nothing for you to worry of.” You quipped back, humming to yourself as you put the cash away safely.

Polly scoffed, glaring at you. You could practically feel the glare burning through you. “I have the fucking senior position in this company. I have kept this fucking business and gang alive. I’m the one who has been here much, much longer than you, sweetheart.” She stated in a gravelly voice condescendingly. You ignored her gaze, knowing superiority wasn’t your goal here. “Look at me.”

You sighed and looked at her, she smiled, leaning in while not breaking eye contact. “No one gets to refuse to tell me something. Not even you.” She whispered, “So, if I were you, darling, I’d tell me what you’re up to before I get it out of you myself.”

“It’s nothing serious, Pol-”

“I’ll give you three seconds before I do something you won’t enjoy.”

Oh.

You remained frozen, like a startled deer, when faced with the threat, choosing not to challenge her. "It seems, from the info I have gathered,  Arthur might have killed a Russian refugee instead of a Bolshevik, as we initially believed," you conceded.

Polly stared at you for a moment with a satisfied smile, clicking her tongue as she looked you up and down. “How’d you find that out?”

“Arthur spoke to me," you explained, your accent subtly surfacing. "He mentioned Anton uttering 'For the Love of God' in his final moments… Bolsheviks reject the concept of God and dismiss all religions as rubbish. They subject priests and religious followers to torture, aiming to crush any hope of salvation from the revolution. It's truly harrowing," you sighed, "but that's the Bolshevik modus operandi. Frankly, I don't believe the man from last night adhered to their ideology."

Polly processed your words as you spoke effortlessly while continuing to count the money. She drew in a breath and complimented, "You're quite clever,  you know?"

You chuckled softly, "Just fulfilling my role, Pol. Some of it's common knowledge too." You met her gaze and added, "But I appreciate your kind words."

"Understood," she murmured as you stored the final stack of cash, observing as you clapped your hands and fastened your trench coat. "Where will you be heading after this?"

"Probably back home... why do you ask?"

"No particular reason," Polly replied with a hint of amusement, playfully beginning to close the vault. You hurried out of the room, rolling your eyes at her antics before making your exit through the betting shop's door.

[shelby-fangirl00]

Hi darl, I'm so happy to see a new writer for the fandom! I'm Lee and I write for most Peaky characters. I esp adore Tommy tho and I'm curious to know what you'd do with this prompt: "Sing for me." "What would you like to hear?"

Hello! XD I'm so sorry for the late reply, I just had a bit of trouble with this one for some reason! But I had a fun time writing! I'm a little unsure of this but I hope you can enjoy it! Thank you so much for the request, you're the best :)

Word Count: 2359

The song below is incorporated into this story, just for reference.

Sing For Me

The sun poured in through the large windows, creeping through the thin sheets I used to cover my face. I woke up to loud car engines coming through the circular driveway. Being an au pair here at the Arrow House was, of course an absolute gift. It was unlike any place I had ever worked before. But it was also very empty here. The only sounds that floated through the halls are from the maids and Charlie.

 I was hired in a few months after the passing of Mrs. Shelby. I like to imagine that when she was here, the house was lively, something I had never seen before. This mansion felt like an empty museum. I wondered often what life was like around here for Mr. Shelby and Charlie before I was needed. It would bring me comfort to know that they were both truly happy at one time. 

As I walked out of my room and into the hallway, I could hear Charlie rustling around in his bed in the next room over. His door was cracked open slightly. As I peered in to greet him, I saw that he was still sleeping, tossing and turning.

Suddenly, he started to weep. He was in some sort of distress it seemed like. 

‘Charlie…Charlie love, wake up.’ I whispered while I gently shook his arms. 

When he finally opened his eyes to look at me, he started to cry even harder. 

‘Shhhh shhh Charlie…it’s alright dear. It’s just a scary dream.’ I consoled. He often woke up like this. Frances warned me about it when I first got here. He has these night terrors often, ever since his mother died. He was barely two years old at this point. 

Charlie continued to cry harder, becoming louder. It was still quite early, so I worried that I’d wake Mr. Shelby, who was next door. 

Now that I’ve come to understand Charlie, I had a few tricks up my sleeve that I knew to calm him down. He seemed to like when I sang to him. I sang him some of my favorite songs or a song that was stuck in my head. Other times, I would just hum to him and he would drift back to sleep. 

Charlie extended his small, puffy arms in an attempt for me to hold him. I reached out, placing him on my lap. He wrapped himself around me, squeezing around my neck as he clung to me, lying his soft head on my shoulder. 

I began to rock, rubbing his back in an attempt to sooth him. I quietly began to sing a song that he usually responded well to. 

‘I am dreaming dear of you, day by day

 Dreaming when the skies are blue, When they're gray

 When the silv'ry moonlight gleams, Still I wander on in dreams  In a land of love, it seems, Just with you  Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.’

Before I could even finish the song, Charlie’s sniffles stopped and his body became limp, drifting back to sleep. 

I held him there a few moments longer, enjoying the embrace of the child I had grown to love and care for. As the minutes passed, there was a small creak from Charlie’s door. 

I looked up expecting to see Frances, but instead, a disheveled Mr. Shelby stood in his night clothes. His billowy white shirt and boxers. 

I immediately averted my gaze from him, feeling like I was intruding on his privacy, even though he was the one who barged in.  

‘Everything alright? I heard Charlie crying again.’ He said so quietly, as to not wake him.

I very quickly and carefully placed Charlie back into his small bed, covering him with a blanket before standing up. 

‘I apologize if we woke you, Mr. Shelby. Charlie just had another bad dream I believe. He’s settled in now sir.’ I said as I stood in front of him, eyes doing their best to avoid him. He was a very intimidating man to be around. 

‘No need for an apology dear. Would you mind leaving me with him for a little while?’ He questioned. 

I couldn’t help but to look at him and smile before answering. I liked seeing him spend time with his son. He needed his father more than he needed me. 

‘Of course, sir. I’ll be downstairs in the library if you need me.’ 

                                                            ------

Charlie and I spent most of the day in the stables. He loved being outside more than the empty house, so I usually had a picnic made up for us out on the large property. He was the only person I really ever saw or spoke to these days, but I don’t mind, he is great company and always keeps me entertained. I just hope I do the same for him. I can tell that he misses his father.

It was winding down towards the end of the night. Charlie had been asleep for well over an hour by now. I had just finished helping Frances clean up in the kitchen. With nothing else to do, I decided to head upstairs to my bedroom.

As I headed down the long hall towards the stairs, I passed Mr. Shelby’s large office. The tall and dark door was wide open, which was out of ordinary. A low light crept out of the doors and on the hallway walls. As I walked by, I glued my eyes on the wooden floor. 

Just as I passed the door frame, I heard his deep voice call my name from inside the room. My stomach tightened as I realized I had never been alone with Mr. Shelby and I was petrified for it to happen. 

‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ I practically mumbled out as I stood in the doorway, too scared to enter.  

He was sitting casually on the edge of his desk with a glass of whiskey in hand. His sleeves were rolled up his arms sloppily. His expression didn’t give away what he wanted from me. He was expressionless. 

‘Shut the door please.’ He commanded. 

I did as he asked, fear creeping up my stomach, into my chest. 

‘I heard you and Charlie this morning. I heard you singing to him.’

Was he offended by my practice? Did I cross a line? 

Your cheeks flushed red as the embarrassment set in.

‘Oh…yes, it’s just something I do when he has his nightmares. If…if you want me to stop-

‘Does he like it when you sing?’  He questioned, his voice becoming a bit softer when talking about his son. 

‘I believe it does. It stops his crying, at least. But it mostly puts him to sleep.’ I giggled out, smiling in his direction while talking about Charlie. 

Thomas studied my face a few seconds, chuckling to himself. A small smile crossed his face too, which was new. His dimples peaked out from each cheek. I liked seeing him smile. 

‘Well then, please don’t stop. I’m happy that it brings him some comfort.’ 

 There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. 

‘You drink whiskey?’ Asking as he strutted over to a cart full of liquor by his desk. 

‘If you’re offering, thank you.’ 

I studied his broad shoulders and back as he poured out the drink, then headed towards me.

I had never been so close to him before as he stood a foot away from me, extending the glass out for me to take. 

He blue eyes never left my face as I threw back the glass, the dark liquid warming up my insides. 

‘So, you like to sing?’ he asked, leaning back on his desk again. I inhaled deeply and took a few steps closer to him, closing the now awkwardly large gap between us. 

‘Well, I suppose. Me mum always forced me to sing for her and her friends when I was a little girl. I prefer singing to Charlie over them though. He doesn’t expect much out of me.’ I chuckled while thinking again about Charlie.  

‘I can tell that you care deeply for my son. I called you in here to thank you. He’s been through too much for his age. I am happy to see him happy again.’ He spoke like he was reading off of a piece of paper. Still, I appreciated the recognition. 

‘Of course. I really do love being here with him, even if it is a bit…lonely here sometimes.’ 

 It was easy to see how lonely he was too, without his wife. It broke my heart to know he was hurting. I cared so much for his son that it was hard not to care about him too.  

His eyes looked up from his glass, a surprised expression on his face.

‘I think I know what you mean. It can eat away at ya if you’re not careful though.’ He warned me.

‘You know from experience, I assume?’ I asked sheepishly, prying a little more.

‘Well, of course. I’ve lived in this loneliness for a while now, love.’ He said lowly and plainly as he sipped on his drink. 

‘Right well,’ he declared as he walked around his desk to sit back in his chair, leaving me stranded, feeling exposed in the middle of this large room. 

‘I need to hear more of this voice of yours, since Charlie loves it so much.’

My heart sank with dread. 

‘Sorry?’ I chuckled out with a confused expression covering my face. 

‘Sing for me.’ He affirmed, smiling devilishly, knowing that putting me on the spot like this would make me fluster. 

A few moments passed in complete silence. I shot back the rest of my whiskey  before placing the glass on his desk. I cleared my throat obnoxiously before placing my hands behind my back.

‘What would you like to hear?’

His eyes scanned the length of my body before answering.  I became over aware of my most-likely underwhelming appearance. 

��What did you sing to the boy today that put him to bed?’

‘Uhm… It’s called ‘Let Me Call You Sweetheart.’ Ya know it?’ 

‘Yes, perfect. Go on then, I insist.’

I smiled at him before taking a deep breath. I opened my mouth to repeat the same song from this morning, wanting to get this over with:

‘I am dreaming dear of you, day by day

 Dreaming when the skies are blue, When they're gray

 When the silv'ry moonlight gleams, Still I wander on in dreams  In a land of love, it seems, Just with you  Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.’

I looked back up at Thomas who was already staring at me, a glimmer in his eyes. 

‘Charlie is right. You’ve got quite a lovely voice, dear.’ He stood up and made his way to stand in front of me again. 

I grinned up at him as to say thank you. 

And a pretty smile as well. You’re very beautiful.’ 

I nearly froze from his words, my breath quickening. 

‘Oh, please. Thank you, but you’re so beautiful, it’s almost annoying, Mr. Shelby.’ I giggled out nervously, hoping I wasn’t being too forward. But he was, so what was the harm?

He cocked an eyebrow at me.

‘Please call me Tommy, love.’ He muttered out.

Without saying another word, Tommy began to push my long and frizzy hair behind my ear. I inhaled sharply as his hand made contact with me. He was definitely coming onto me. Was this appropriate? It was hard to say no to a man like Thomas Shelby. Everything about him was intoxicating.

“Are you going to kiss me, Tommy?’ I whispered, batting my eyes sensually at him as I wetted my lips, pushing my lips passed my teeth.

His hand made its way to lightly tilt my chin up to him before he leaned down to press his warm lips onto mine. I was basically trembling with excitement and a bit of fear. The fear fell off of me as he deepened his kiss. He wrapped his hands around my cheeks and pulled me further into his body. I could feel his muscular chest pressed against mine as he sank into my mouth. I opened the kiss to allow his tongue access inside. He greedily accepted the invitation with more force. The kiss was became so needy.

Without thinking, I threw my hands into his hair and gripped lightly onto his loose brown strands. He moaned softly into my mouth, sending vibrations through my body. 

“Mommy! Mommy!’ Charlie cried out from behind us. My eyes shot wide open as both Tommy and I practically sprung off of each other. 

Charlie ran up to me with tears in his eyes, clinging to my legs and squeezing.

Completely flushed and still trying to recover what just happened, I picked up Charlie instinctively, bouncing him up and down to calm him down. 

I turned around to see Tommy was who holding back a giggle. 

‘Tommy, I try to correct him when he says this, I swear.’ I worryingly assured him. I hoped it hadn’t offended him.

‘No, no, please don’t apologize. He doesn’t know any better…it’s quite adorable, actually.’ He said jokingly while giggling.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him before turning to face the door. 

“I should try to put him back to bed.’ I exclaimed as I headed towards the door. 

‘I’ll join you, then. I wouldn’t mind hearing you sing again, either.’ He said teasingly, coming up on my side and placing his large warm hand on the small of my back as to lead me out of the doorway with him. 

‘You will? Oh Tommy, I think Charlie would love that!’ I beamed up at him as he smiled down at me. For the night, I felt as though I saw a side of Tommy that he hides away from others. To the outside world, Tommy Shelby was a ruthless gangster and business man. Here at the Arrow House tonight, he was just Thomas. He was just a man.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 16: Lady of the Various Sorrows

Summary: Tommy agonizes over Lucy's reasons for not telling him about her infertility for so long.

Word Count: 2,988

Warnings: Infertility, polyamory, mild sexual content, angst, and religious trauma.

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Chapter 3: Smoke & Sugar

Tommy laid on his back, one arm around Lucy, holding her firmly to him as she slept peacefully against his chest. The other was flung across his forehead, thumb rubbing at his brow as he frowned up at the ceiling. He could hear Grace shifting, nestling up more firmly against Lucy’s back.

He had meant every word that he had said to her. Every single one. It made no difference to him if they had children together or not. That had never been why he was with her. And there had been times when he had wondered if it would even be something she would want, considering how uninterested she had always been in marriage or the idea of life as a housewife. 

That was not what was bothering him so much that he was unable to sleep.

A sudden cry came from the other room, Charlie’s little wails echoing. Goddamn, did the boy have a pair of lungs on him.

Grace jumped awake from where she’d already been almost entirely asleep against Lucy, head snapping upwards. But Tommy was already moving; carefully passing Lucy over to her before sliding out of bed.

“I’ve got him. You stay with her,” he whispered, mindful not to wake Lucy. Stepping heavily out of the bedroom and to the nursery, he pushed the door open, bending over the crib to scoop up his son. Cradling him against his bare chest, Tommy began to gently bounce him in his arms in the way that always seemed to calm him.

“Shush, sweet boy. I gotcha,” he whispered as he carried him over to the window to peer outside. “I gotcha. Shush.”

Charlie began to quiet immediately, hiccupping a few times before he started to coo, tiny hands patting at Tommy’s chest and shoulder. He smiled to himself, pecking a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

“Good boy.”

But then he started to think about how it must have felt for Lucy. To watch as Grace grew round and heavy over the months of her pregnancy while he fawned over her. How enraptured they were with the baby once he arrived. But Lucy had also fussed considerably over Grace during her pregnancy. And she was so sweet and loving with Charlie it just about made his heart want to burst every time he saw them together.  

But then, God…neither of them had been subtle in their suggestions about him and Lucy having a child together. Bringing it up regularly. And knowing what he knew now…  

His smile dropped. For a moment he felt like he might be sick. They must have made her feel terrible.

She hadn’t told him.

The thought, which he had been trying to shove down and away, rose up out of nowhere to practically punch him in the stomach. Swallowing around the sudden lump building in his throat, Tommy tried to focus his attention fully on Charlie, before he drowned in his thoughts and guilt over the whole situation. 

“Tommy?” Grace’s voice was low, her figure at the doorway barely more than a silhouette in the darkness. 

“He’s alright,” he said, still idly bouncing Charlie up and down. The baby had rested his head on his shoulder, snuggling against him as he began to drift back to sleep and Tommy almost felt like he could melt.

Grace walked steadily to them, passing a hand gingerly over Charlie’s head, placing a kiss to one of his chubby cheeks. Maneuvering him carefully, Tommy laid the baby back into his crib. Grace hovered at his side while they both gazed down at their sleeping son.

“Tommy…” Grace said again. Her voice was steady. Questioning. But there was steeliness there, too. Just the very beginnings of defensiveness as she looked at him, analyzing. He realized with a start that she was trying to gauge if he was upset or not. And that if he was, she was more than ready to jump to Lucy’s defense if need be.

The comforting knowledge that she cared for Lucy enough to put herself between them if she deemed it necessary warmed his heart. Not that she ever would have to, of course.

“She didn’t tell me,” he finally whispered, hoping that would be enough explanation as to what was bothering him. Tommy felt as though he sagged when the words left him, the achiness of the thought spreading throughout his chest. He couldn’t get that terrified look in Lucy’s eyes just before she told him out of his mind. Was he really that frightening? Had she really thought him so cruel or shallow that he would be genuinely angry with her?

“Oh, love,” Grace visibly softened, voice still soft to avoid waking the baby. One of her hands rested comfortingly on his shoulder. “It wasn’t…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “She was just scared.”

The sentiment did little to comfort him. “I always thought that she wasn’t afraid of me,” he mumbled. Grace rolled her eyes fondly.

“Not of you. Of you leaving her.”

“Do I really come across as that cold hearted?”

“No, Tommy, of course not,” Grace leaned closer until their sides were pressed together. “It’s just…” she frowned, searching for the words, then sighed. “I really don’t think that it had all that much to do with you at all.”

He shot her a quizzical look and she huffed, fingers fiddling with a button on her nightclothes. Tommy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her more snugly against him.

“Tommy, you have to understand that a lot of us…” she made a sound of frustration as she tried to figure out how she wanted to word things. “From the time we were children, most of us women were taught that getting married, having babies…that’s just something we’re all supposed to do. And that if someone didn’t or couldn’t do either of those things…that there must be something wrong with them,” she was biting at her bottom lip again. “Lucy grew up in a devout Catholic household. I’m sure all that she was told from the time she was little was that she better find a man and give him lots of children. Or else he wouldn’t want her.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, and, not for the first time, silently wished that he could go back in time and kill Lucy’s father a second time. 

“She’s done a pretty damn good job of divorcing herself from a lot of those traditional ideas,” Grace continued on. “But that fear that, just maybe, they were right all along…it’s a powerful thing, Tommy,” the hand that had snuck around his shoulders as they leaned against each other reached up to stroke his hair, encouraging his head to rest against hers. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve loved and supported her the best you can. Her not telling you doesn’t mean that she doesn’t trust you. It just means that the brainwashing of the church and a traditional upbringing got the better of her. That’s all.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, Tommy nodded. It made sense, he supposed. “Right,” he mumbled. “But I still feel…” he sighed.

“Terrible? So do I,” Grace shrugged, helplessly. “We didn’t know.”

Wetting his lips, Tommy glanced over at the window, a thin sliver of silver moonlight seeping in at the side where the curtain hadn’t been pulled entirely to cover it. “Sometimes I worry that she doesn’t really know how much I love her.”

He heard Grace swallow heavily, feeling as she shifted from foot to foot next to him. “Yeah. Me too.”

A silent, helpless gloominess seemed to settle between the both of them. Grace was the first to shake it away, straightening.

“She’ll be okay. We all will,” she said it with such strong confidence that Tommy really had no choice but to believe her. Taking his hand, she cast one last fond look down at Charlie before beginning to tug him towards the door. “Come on. Let’s get back to her.”

“Yeah,” he didn’t hesitate to follow her out of the nursery and back into the master bedroom. Where their lover was still sleeping peacefully in their bed.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

He woke up slowly, hazily, his eyes blinking sluggishly up at the ceiling. The blankets were pulled half over his stomach, light just barely beginning to shine through the curtains behind the bed. Letting out a small, barely audible groan, Tommy raised a forearm to rest over his eyes, allowing himself the small luxury of sinking more deeply into the mattress for a moment before he had to rise and get ready for the day.

Dropping his forearm away from his eyes, he craned his head down to look at the figure curled up against his chest, and frowned. Instead of red curls he was greeted with Grace’s golden waves. She was snuggled up to him, arm loose around his waist. Lucy nowhere to be found. 

Stroking his fingers once through Grace’s hair and down along her arm, he slipped carefully out from under her, smiling at the way she almost immediately began to cuddle his pillow in his absence.

Standing and rubbing a hand up and down his neck, he checked the bathroom first. The door was open and the lights off. No Lucy there. Frown deepening, he fought back the beginning tickles of panic as he stepped out in the hall.

He found her in the nursery, the sound of her voice, mumbling indiscernibly, filtering out into the hall. Exhaling a breath of relief, he followed the hum of her familiar Birmingham lilt, coming to a stop in the doorway.

She had pulled on her dressing gown over her matching nightgown, red hair still tussled from sleep. She was standing by the window, the curtain pulled aside to allow the sunlight into the room. Charlie was hefted up into her arms, babbling to himself as Lucy cooed to him in a soft voice, smiling brightly when his little fists grabbed at her red curls. As Tommy watched, she leaned in close so that the tip of her nose bumped Charlie’s, and the little boy squealed in delight, laughing and clapping his hands. Lucy laughed and kissed his cheek.

Tommy felt his heart clench with affection for them both, lips pulling up at the corners.

“Lucy,” he said quietly, and she turned from the window to look at him, smiling almost shyly. Charlie squawked with joy.

“Hey,” her voice was little more than a whisper. “He, um, he was awake, so…”

Still smiling, Tommy approached them. “He alright?”

“Yeah. I already gave him a bottle and changed him.”

Humming, he cupped the back of her head, pulling her face up to kiss her. “Good morning.”

Lucy smiled against his lips. “Good morning.”

Charlie made a babbling sound, clearly wanting attention, and they both laughed as they broke away. Lucy gave him a playful little bounce that he clearly enjoyed.

“Can you say hello to Daddy, Charlie?” she asked. Charlie just made grabby hands at him and Tommy chuckled, giving the baby a kiss on the forehead.

“Good morning, my boy.”

Charlie giggled, hands flailing around. He got distracted by a swoosh of Lucy’s short red hair when she turned her head, making another grab at her curls. Tommy wondered if he liked the color.

“You want to play with the blocks, kiddo?” Lucy asked, chuckling at Charlie's continued attempts to catch her hair in his fists. She carried him over to the little play area set up in the nursery, setting him down on the mat and pulling out the blocks and toys for him to play with before sitting down nearby to watch him. Spotting an opportunity, Tommy sat down behind her, legs stretching out on either side of Lucy’s body as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him until her back was pressed to his chest. Hands resting on his arms, Lucy stroked over his skin as he peppered a few kisses into the nape of her neck and along her shoulders. Neither of them said anything for a good while, just watching Charlie play with his toys in comfortable silence.

“Are you really not upset with me?” she asked, finally. Tommy cocked his head, resting his cheek against the side of her head.

“Of course not.”  

“Even about the part where I knew and took years to tell you?”

He hesitated, considering how he wanted to phrase his answer, nosing at her hair affectionately while he did to let her know it was still okay. “I would have preferred that you told me when you found out,” he admitted slowly. Lucy’s shoulders slumped.

“I know. I’m sorry–”

Shushing her softly, he kissed her cheek, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Really.”

But she just shook her head. “I was being selfish.”

He cocked his head, brows furrowing. “How so?”

“I kept putting it off for so long because…I wanted to be able to hold onto you for a little longer.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I know that.”

His lips pursed. “Did you really not know that before?”

Lucy frowned, forehead creasing with it, and he squeezed her a little tighter against him. “I don’t know…”

“Grace says that the brainwashing that comes from a traditional, religious upbringing is a powerful thing.”

She let out a tiny laugh that vibrated against his palms. “She’s probably right.”

“Mm,” he dropped another kiss onto her shoulder. “I was worried that you were scared of me.”

“I’m not.”

He just grunted. Despite her and Grace’s reassurance, there were still a few remnants of fear that she was afraid to tell him things.

Lucy craned her head around to look over her shoulder at him, all big green eyes and freckles as she scoffed. “You? My big, sweet teddy bear? Not likely.”

He snorted. “I think that you’re probably the only person in the world who would describe me that way.”

She giggled and kissed him, her lips soft and tasting of smoke and sugar. Tommy tightened his hold on her, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

“I hate the thought of you having to deal with it all on your own,” he whispered after they parted. “I want to help you with those things.”   

She nodded, eyes lowered as she stroked his chest. “I know,” when her gaze lifted back up to meet his, Tommy felt his breath stutter at just how dark green her eyes were. She was so beautiful. “Thank you.”

Charlie made a squealing noise, and they both glanced over to watch him stick the ear of his stuffed horse into his mouth. Lucy laughed.

“That taste good, kiddo?”

Charlie just giggled, squeezing the stuffed animal to his chest. Tommy chuckled, hooking his chin over Lucy’s shoulder as he curled around her.

“I love you very, very much,” he murmured to her. “You know that, right?”

Her hand folded over where his were clasped around her. “I do,” she turned her head and kissed his cheek. “I love you too.”

He smiled at her, brushing his nose along her cheekbone affectionately before settling back into cuddling her, both of them watching in silent, peaceful contentment as Charlie played with his toys.

“I’m still very sorry,” she repeated.

“You apologize one more damn time and I’m going to start getting cross with you,” he teased, letting his teeth scrape just ever so slightly along her shoulder, grinning at how it made her shiver.

She giggled at the empty threat. “I don’t know…as I recall I’ve quite enjoyed the times you’ve gotten cross with me.”

He laughed, grinning down at her while her head fell backwards to look up at him. Her eyes were shining and happy, and he really had no choice but to kiss her again when she was looking at him like that.

“We’re okay. Really. Don’t worry,” he said. Lucy nodded, clearly relieved. And then something mischievous entered her eyes, and when she spoke her voice had taken on a playful tone he knew all too well. 

“But I am truly very, very sorry–”

“Oh for fuck’s sake–”

He brought his mouth crashing down onto hers to shut her up, at the same moment rolling them so she was on her back with him on top of her. Lucy shrieked at the sudden movement, hands latching onto his shoulders for purchase. Then she was laughing against his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair while her lips parted for him. Charlie, either thinking that they were playing or perturbed at them for becoming frisky in his presence, made a high pitched noise.

Breaking away from Lucy and half sitting up, he glanced over at his son, who was staring at them with big, curious eyes.

“Cockblock,” he grumbled good naturedly. Lucy just snickered and pushed on his chest until he let her up, tugging her to sit curled in his lap while he leaned his back against the wall, arms around her as Charlie, apparently satisfied, returned to his toys. He pecked the sensitive spot behind her ear, smirking at the tiny gasp that left her lips. “We’ll be returning to that later,” he promised.

“I look forward to it,” she smirked, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. Tommy stroked her hair, encouraging her to tilt her head up to look at him, her eyes sparkling. Relief, that she seemed to be coming back to her old playful, mischievous self, washed over him. There’s my girl.  

He really couldn’t help the way that his hand slipped up to encase her thigh, half exposed thanks to the short length of her nightgown.

Charlie made a sound that really couldn’t have been interpreted as anything other than protest, and threw his stuffed horse at them. Lucy cackled.  

“Kid’s got a sixth fucking sense,” she said.

He laughed, shaking his head fondly, and kissed her again.

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[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby- Chapter 19 - The Truth

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I stood by the bedroom's French window, watching the Duchess drive away.

Everything seemed logical: Churchill disagreed with the government, then secretly approached Tommy to sell weapons to the Russians. Yet, for some reason, a vague unease lingered within me.

Economic alliances, members of parliament, government officials, the King, Russians... I've been bombarded with too much information in such a short time.

Despite trusting Tommy completely with matters of love and marriage, as the woman said, I knew nothing, and Tommy told me nothing.

He seemed to forget that I was the daughter of a former government official, raised around those deceitful politicians. My sensitivity to such matters would undoubtedly match his.

But Tommy wouldn't tell me.

I rubbed my chin irritably.

Suddenly, I recalled my wedding day, Aunt Victoria's eyes gleaming as she observed my husband's sisters circling him, wrinkled faces smiling maliciously.

"Do you know why seductresses easily rise to power? Because, no matter how rational and composed men are in daily life, ultimately, in bed, these men think with their lower halves. God created women from man's rib, destined for us to control their hearts."

I successfully pried information about his current situation and plans from my husband's mouth, the cost being legs so sore I could hardly walk and even needed Tommy to carry me into the bath.

"The Economic Alliance General leaked information about the weapons to the Soviet Embassy, and the Russians are sending someone to blow up the train," Tommy said. The Russian woman came today to inform him, leaving the disposal of Hughes in his hands.

"So, you're going to..." I gestured at his neck.

Tommy grabbed my hand, nodding. "He also threatens Charlie's safety."

"But... do you really think he's a Soviet agent?" I sat up from his embrace. "You said Churchill introduced him for this deal."

"Yeah."

"He won't figure out which side Hughes is on?" If he can't, he has no place in politics; he should go back to his estate and focus on painting. "If Churchill is Hughes' superior and their goals align, why would he sell weapons to Soviet enemies? Why wouldn't he handle the deal, benefit from it, and wait for it to be disrupted?"

"...Are you saying Churchill is pursuing a larger conspiracy?"

After Tommy's revelation, we fell into silence.

"...Is Churchill currently out of office in the government?"

"Yeah." With the Labour Party in power now, I knew that from my visit to London before the wedding. The government was pro-Soviet, which led Churchill to seek Tommy for this secret mission...

Secret missions without benefits, larger conspiracies...

"So, their goal isn't really about this business!" I suddenly understood, feeling a chill down my spine, unable to hold back a shocked cry.

With the Labour Party in power, Churchill and other Conservatives are currently unemployed! They need an opportunity to turn the tide and regain control of politics. If the train is blown up within Britain, it would be blamed on the Bolsheviks, giving the Conservatives a chance to rise again.

"Whether there are weapons on the train, who blew up the weapons, whether they reach their destination, whether you get paid, or if there's a danger to life, they don't care. They only care about the outcome they want."

Though I grew up around politicians, witnessing their colonial activities, I never thought they could be so shameless and ruthless—they're willing to sacrifice taxpayers' lives for their political careers!

"...What's your plan now?" I felt a chilling sensation, tightly gripping Tommy's hand. He pulled me into his embrace.

"I hope this isn't true, Tommy... I hope I'm having a nightmare..."

We lay in bed, embracing each other, sleepless through the night until Charlie's cries pulled us out of bed.

"I'll still kill Hughes." He whispered to me while tying his tie, making sure only we could hear. "Can't let the Russians sense anything unusual."

"We can't just follow their orders. We can't let those big shots do whatever they want. No one can threaten our son, Dani, no one."

It's a gambler's move. I glanced at him.

A wild horse, difficult to tame, often holds more power than an obedient one, making it more expensive, valuable, and likable. But if the horse is too unruly, difficult to tame, it will be eliminated.

But do we have a better option?

"Take care of yourself, Tommy."

Tommy went to kill.

But now it's already evening, and he hasn't come back, not a single message. I dare not call Arthur or John; Tommy's absence shakes the foundation of this household.

"It's 11 o'clock, ma'am," Jenny walked over.

"Is it..." I looked at the cold dishes on the table, suddenly feeling that without Tommy, this house is just like 10 King's Road, constantly emitting a millennium of cold air.

"Take these away, Jenny." I got up from the dining room and sat next to Charlie's crib.

Even though his father isn't at home, this little guy is sleeping soundly.

I touched his dark golden hair, his tender face, and his chubby hands. Charlie is a handsome boy; his blue eyes are exactly like his dad's. I still remember when Charlie was born, Tommy holding him so stiffly, insisting he looked like me.

"For heaven's sake! Tommy, he's a boy! And he's so small, how can you tell anything?! At least I hope he looks like you, Dani."

I looked at our son, suddenly thinking of Aunt Polly's eyes rolling around at my wedding, watching those sisters trying to get close to my husband, with wrinkled faces smiling maliciously.

"Do you know why seductresses easily rise to power? Because, no matter how rational and composed men are in daily life, ultimately, in bed, these men think with their lower halves. God created women from man's rib, destined for us to control their hearts."

I successfully pried information about his current situation and plans from my husband's mouth, the cost being legs so sore I could hardly walk and even needed Tommy to carry me into the bath.

"The Economic Alliance General leaked information about the weapons to the Soviet Embassy, and the Russians are sending someone to blow up the train," Tommy said. The Russian woman came today to inform him, leaving the disposal of Hughes in his hands.

"So, you're going to..." I gestured at his neck.

Tommy grabbed my hand, nodding. "He also threatens Charlie's safety."

"But... do you really think he's a Soviet agent?" I sat up from his embrace. "You said Churchill introduced him for this deal."

"Yeah."

"He won't figure out which side Hughes is on?" If he can't, he has no place in politics; he should go back to his estate and focus on painting. "If Churchill is Hughes' superior and their goals align, why would he sell weapons to Soviet enemies? Why wouldn't he handle the deal, benefit from it, and wait for it to be disrupted?"

"...Are you saying Churchill is pursuing a larger conspiracy?"

After Tommy's revelation, we fell into silence.

"...Is Churchill currently out of office in the government?"

"Yeah." With the Labour Party in power now, I knew that from my visit to London before the wedding. The government was pro-Soviet, which led Churchill

to seek Tommy for this secret mission...

Secret missions without benefits, larger conspiracies...

"So, their goal isn't really about this business!" I suddenly understood, feeling a chill down my spine, unable to hold back a shocked cry.

With the Labour Party in power, Churchill and other Conservatives are currently unemployed! They need an opportunity to turn the tide and regain control of politics. If the train is blown up within Britain, it would be blamed on the Bolsheviks, giving the Conservatives a chance to rise again.

"Whether there are weapons on the train, who blew up the weapons, whether they reach their destination, whether you get paid, or if there's a danger to life, they don't care. They only care about the outcome they want."

Though I grew up around politicians, witnessing their colonial activities, I never thought they could be so shameless and ruthless—they're willing to sacrifice taxpayers' lives for their political careers!

"...What's your plan now?" I felt a chilling sensation, tightly gripping Tommy's hand. He pulled me into his embrace.

"I hope this isn't true, Tommy... I hope I'm having a nightmare..."

We lay in bed, embracing each other, sleepless through the night until Charlie's cries pulled us out of bed.

"I'll still kill Hughes." He whispered to me while tying his tie, making sure only we could hear. "Can't let the Russians sense anything unusual."

"We can't just follow their orders. We can't let those big shots do whatever they want. No one can threaten our son, Dani, no one."

It's a gambler's move. I glanced at him.

A wild horse, difficult to tame, often holds more power than an obedient one, making it more expensive, valuable, and likable. But if the horse is too unruly, difficult to tame, it will be eliminated.

But do we have a better option?

"Take care of yourself, Tommy."

Tommy went to kill.

But now it's already evening, and he hasn't come back, not a single message. I dare not call Arthur or John; Tommy's absence shakes the foundation of this household.

"It's 11 o'clock, ma'am," Jenny walked over.

"Is it..." I looked at the cold dishes on the table, suddenly feeling that without Tommy, this house is just like 10 King's Road, constantly emitting a millennium of cold air.

"Take these away, Jenny." I got up from the dining room and sat next to Charlie's crib.

Even though his father isn't at home, this little guy is sleeping soundly.

I touched his dark golden hair, his tender face, and his chubby hands. Charlie is a handsome boy; his blue eyes are exactly like his dad's. I still remember when Charlie was born, Tommy holding him so stiffly, insisting he looked like me.

"For heaven's sake! Tommy, he's a boy! And he's so small, how can you tell anything?! At least I hope he looks like you, Dani."

I looked at our son, suddenly thinking of Aunt Polly's eyes rolling around at my wedding, watching those sisters trying to get close to my husband, with wrinkled faces smiling maliciously.

My mind wandered back to the present, the cold reality of Tommy's absence. The ticking of the clock echoed in the empty room, each second dragging on like an eternity. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

I clutched Charlie's crib, silently praying for Tommy's safety. The world outside seemed to blur into shadows, mirroring the uncertainty within me.

Jenny, ever observant, hesitated before speaking. "Shall I prepare a late-night meal, ma'am?"

I nodded absently, my thoughts consumed by the dangerous world Tommy navigated. As Jenny left, I traced the patterns on Charlie's blanket, finding a strange comfort in its familiarity.

The night wore on, each passing minute intensifying my anxiety. The distant sounds of the city became haunting whispers, amplifying my fears. I fought against the urge to reach out to Arthur or John, fearing what news they might bring.

Finally, the door creaked open, and I shot up, my heart pounding. But it wasn't Tommy who entered—it was Arthur, his face etched with concern.

"Where's Tommy?" My voice trembled, and Arthur's solemn expression deepened.

"We don't know, Ada. He went to deal with Hughes, but there's been no word since. We're looking for him."

Dread settled in my chest, and I clung to the hope that Tommy would return unscathed. We couldn't afford to lose him, not now. Charlie stirred in his sleep, oblivious to the turmoil surrounding him.

Hours dragged by, and the silence in the house became oppressive. I paced the room, my mind racing with scenarios, none of them offering solace. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, and I wished for the strength to endure whatever awaited us.

As dawn approached, Arthur returned with news that sent a chill down my spine. "We found Hughes, but Tommy... he's missing."

The room spun, and I steadied myself against the crib. Missing? Tommy, the indomitable force that faced down enemies without flinching, was missing. Panic clawed at my chest, threatening to overwhelm me.

I couldn't accept the possibility that he might not return, that our son might grow up without his father. The bond we shared, forged through trials and tribulations, seemed suddenly fragile.

Gathering my resolve, I turned to Arthur. "We need to find him. Whatever it takes."

He nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Together, we embarked on a journey into the shadows, determined to bring Tommy home. The stakes were higher than ever, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.

As the first light of dawn illuminated the city, I steeled myself for the challenges that lay ahead. Whatever secrets and dangers awaited, I would face them head-on, for Tommy, for Charlie, and for the fragile hope that our family could endure the storm.

[tommygrace]

( tried replying under the post as a comment but it kept cutting the length short so here it is )

Hey so  I agree with most of what you say .. even if I look at Lizzie graciously she's a product of her circumstances and comes from a very different background than grace, I see her as bit immature and her feelings towards Tommy more of infatuation because we never see her deeply understand or care for Tommy, they just don't fit there's no real emotional or mental intimacy between them and later if there's some it's not enough, and her behaviour towards May and Jessie Eden and other actions again icky and immature, So I just don't get why people like her so much to me she's a rather simple charector with nothing much write home about.. and yeah season 1 was great when it came to grace and Tommy bcz , So I don't usually like sex scenes in movies or cinema it's very difficult to do them right and make them actually beautiful and meaningful but their intimate scene actually feels it's there for a reason …it conveys so much about their relationship… I would have just liked them to develop grace more, see more of her perceptive as well,  see more interactions and development of their relationship as well. also I guess it's an affectionate gesture she tells him to protect them but the whole thing of her not being concerned about charlies incident not prying not being involved in stuff, like when she tells I v the one who's invited them but my husband seems to know everybody, also we don't get anything of the between how were 2 years before their marriage what did Tommy say to her when he went back etc some flash backs more time with them before killing her if they had would have been better… even in season one we could have more of them there relationship has lot more space to be developed so I am really sick right now so will stop here at typing, one more thing I think tommy respected MAY and they had more understanding between them…the fact he doesn't takes her offer to go back to being a gangster shows that he respects her enough not to use her, at that time he didn't know grace would come to him she was sailing away the way he was effictionate with her and said whatever happens no regrets during race also shows their relationship was decent and had potential it was also intresting,I think MAY is an intresting and intelligent charector, which is also why she leaves home because she can see he is self destructive by the time they meet again, " nothing seems to change you, but from what we are shown on the show he cares the most for grace , there's some sort of mirroring between them , they see themselves in each rather, they share sweetness and affection, he's the most open and vulnerable with her, the fact he asks her to help him says alot , grace is also the only charector on the show we see being affection towards Tommy they are actually both soft towards each other in a that almost gives young love vibes , the way the aren't with others , he finds peace love and acceptance with her , and grace is the right balance of soft and stern with him she's not afraid to stand up for herself, or give it to him but she is also gentle, affectionate and caring towards him. Also that stare she gives him when she says " alone with him" " you think I am a whore" almost matches his in intensity and power of you see that scene.

Also lot of PPL hate on her for betraying him , but that only adds to her, she completes her duty and saves him at the same time, that's almost ideal and respectable in her position, being an officer was difficult at the time, she has her trauma with her dad's death , yet when she sees Tommy isn't that bad and police not that great she helps him in her own way, it wasn't a light deal to be a women and an officer we can see how she's undermined in many ways , we see how moss calls her a whore, she does her work and loves Tommy at the same time, how many people Tommy uses to get what he wants, also retrieving the guns is actually the morally right thing to do , yeah she got freddie arrested and stuff but again it's thing of us not knowing her perceptive in things, but coming back just cuz she's a woman and falls in love with Tommy she's supposed to forget about her mission and be all irrational and immature? The hate towards her for that is unjustified she did the best in her circumstances, and Tommy actually understand and loves her despite it , he overlooks it and forgives even respects her for it,  despite of feeling hurt and it being a big deal,  she did  what she had to Just like him…. She's intelligent and perspective she does her job well. Also previously in earlier comment I meant "* almost pimps her out to Kimber" saw there are so many typos there phew 

Yes, I agree with everything you said about Grace and Tommy. And about Lizzie, I also see her as a very immature woman. Who is only obsessed with a man, and lives in the fantasy that she created in her mind.

The only thing I don't agree with is May, I didn't like her character in S2, the way she went to look for Grace seemed very adolescent just to provoke her and tell her he's going to choose me, Grace didn't understand anything haha. And it seemed toxic to me that when Tommy tells her that he wants to stop having sex with her because he is in love with another woman, that she tells him that she still wants to continue and that she is going to win him, that seemed toxic to me but I liked her in S4 , the way she didn't let herself be humiliated by Lizzie, and realized that Tommy is not going to change for her, and that that is not the life she wants, and decides to leave, I liked that about her. But I think Tommy and May simply felt attraction and they both wanted to forget about other people, their true loves, and they used each other for that, but Tommy realized that no one is going to replace Grace and no one is going to make him feel like her makes it feel. The mere fact that the second he finishes having sex with May, the first thing he does is call Grace, that says a lot about how he feels about Grace and not about May or Lizzie, or any woman.

[bonesandthebees]

*Shows up with home made thee idk_how_many days late* So how about the Glass final. I have zero time to analyse (God forbid a girl has enough time to do all her hobbies), so bulletpoints and screaming it is. Things I loved about the final chapter in no particular order:

NIKI!!! The consequences of her actions! She cares so much about Wilbur but she still picked Jack (just like Wilbur picked Tommy). Their friendship was build on a wooden foundation and she knocked a wreaking ball straight through it.

Wilbur just fucking Shoving Tommy behind him when Niki took a step closer. He doesn’t trust you with his younger brother. THE PROTECTIVENESS. AAAAAHHHHHHH.

Jack thinking he’s seeing ghosts. How’s that conscious feeling? Badly, I suppose. He’s gotta be very guilty and he’s not relieved that Tommy survived per se, but he’s not mad about it either. They are even now (as even as they can be because Tommy did in fact die, but Jack will never know that). Jack can let go of his anger and Tommy is getting the fuck out of there. They can move on with their lives.

Oh and Tommy just not telling Phil and Techno (or anyone) about dying, about Kristin not being there. Part of it is not wanting it to get explained away because he doesn’t want his feelings (his anger) to be invalidated by a “I’m sure she had a reason” he wants to be upset. The other part is wanting to keep that a little secret between him and Wilbur. And the last part of it is not really wanting to address it especially after knowing they will leave (though he’d already lied about that before learning he could leave).

Similarly, Wilbur not wanting to tell Techno and Phil about killing Schlatt because he doesn’t want them to know that side of him, even if they wouldn’t mind. Wilbur wanting to keep that side for just him and Tommy. Brothers and their secrets, they are making me ILL! Oh and the lie still being so obvious! The silence is so loud, there’s a reason Wilbur knows, but he’s not elaborating and Phil and Techno know a thing or two about trauma so they don’t push (a lot).

Wilbur fleeing the county! This dumbass assuming Tommy WOULDN’T be coming along with him. Like you brought him back from the dead! And even without knowing that Phil and Techno still fucking knew Tommy would not leave Wilbur’s side! Everyone knew!

TOMMY DYEING HIS HAIR THE SAME SHADE OF BROWN AS WILBUR’S!

The goggles Sam made!

WILBUR WAVING NIKI GOODBYE WITH HIS LEFT HAND, CLEARLY SHOWING THE TWO FINGERS HE LOST BECAUSE OF HER!

Also, I was wrong, it wasn’t his entire hand, but I would have been very surprised if he had made it through this entire story without getting a prosthetic. All the tenants need to end up broken. He already got the tatttoo, but prosthetics weren’t allowed either. And now he matches with his brother.

SAME LAST NAME ON THE FAKE PAPERS BABY!!! YOUR HONNER, THEY ARE BROTHERS!!!

Tubbo learning Wilbur’s name and messing it up so fast. Poor boy, Tommy might have been ready to jump him. He’s going to have to get used to to hearing other people call him by his name. He’s no longer the only one who knows. He’s going to have to share that information.

CHARLIE FINNALY GETS HIS TEETH.

Tommy from downstairs’ friend, a nickname which Wilbur has been given when meeting Charlie for the first time (so first or second chapter) finally being replaced with his actual name.

TNTDUO!!! THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM!!! THEY ARE DIGGING THEIR NAILS INTO EACH OFHER’S HANDS AGAIN!!!! WILBUR ISN’T EMPTY!!!!!!

The family owned drug cartel and Quackity possibly coming to hang out and cause crime too. CRIMEBOYS!!!

And of course right when I was starting to chill we get the touch of Kristin. I hope the goddess are up their rooting for their two favourite boys. I hope they wish them happiness. I hope they leave them the fuck alone!!!

I think that’s everything. It’s been a while since I’ve read the chapter so I’m just rambling off the top of my head. As you can tell, Glass has joined Stars, it’s living up there rant free. I can’t wait to dig my teeth into Rose because there’s lines in there I want to tear to shreds. THE IMPLICATIONS, BEE! THEY ARE KILLING ME! Alas, I have no time because I’m dying, but when I get a free night, I will be going ham.

Anyway, hope you have a good day/night. I’m passing the fuck out.

-🌲

girls never have enough time in the day to do all their hobbies we suffer more than jesus...

anyway I'm finally getting around to responding to some of the glass finale asks so here we go LMAO

YEAHHH niki having to face the consequences of her actions!! sorry girl you did try to kill his bestie/adoptive little brother. she and wilbur both tried so hard to keep their friendship intact but they were always going to choose Their People over each other. so of course wilbur is protective over tommy as a result. big brother wilbur activated.

yes now jack and tommy are properly even. tommy tried to kill jack and failed, and jack tried to kill tommy and failed. they can finally move on, although before jack saw tommy alive he was definitely feeling a bit guilty about the whole thing. also the ghosts bit was just too funny not to pass up

phil always has an explanation and that's not a bad thing per se but tommy is upset!! he wants to be upset and he has every right to be, but he knows if he tells phil then phil will explain it away and tommy will feel guilty for being upset at kristin. he's gone through a lot and he's dealing with his own religious crisis now so he just wants to take things at his own pace.

god I love wilbur and tommy each keeping something only for the other to know. only tommy knows the side of wilbur the pushed schlatt further down on that metal beam. only wilbur knows the tommy that cried when he realized kristin didn't come for him after death. but yeah wilbur's silence is also very obvious, even he's aware of it, phil and techno definitely have a pretty good idea of what happened at least with schlatt

yeah duh of course he was gonna come with him wilbur you dumbass

I was thinking realistically okay they definitely need to dye their hair and I was like ok, well, why not have a self indulgent brothers moment and make tommy dye his hair brown lol

originally I wasn't planning on wilbur getting any prosthetics, but as we neared the final arc I realized that it definitely wouldn't feel complete without it happening so I figured I could just engineer the finale to include a scene of his hand getting fucked with. I think I decided he'd be getting some kind of prosthetic right around the time I was writing the chapter where he first saw niki's design for the tattoo. but yup, all the tenets were broken. he's not the vessel, he's just wilbur.

also wilbur waving at niki with his prosthetic was something I decided in the moment of writing that scene and I'm so glad I did

SAME LAST NAME YEAHHHH THEY'RE BROTHERS

tubbo tried ok

it was so funny i had actually only planned for that scene to be quackity saying goodbye to the boys but then while I was writing it I was like wait. fuck. charlie exists. so I had to throw him in real fast and then I was like WAIT TOMMY CAN GIVE HIM TEETH AND HE CAN BE TOLD TO USE WILBUR'S NAME. love charlie he's so weird

tntduo has SO much wrong with them I adore them. wilbur isn't empty and both of them can see it.

wherever the goddesses are, whatever they think of wilbur and tommy it doesn't matter because wilbur is living for himself now.

thank you spruce I'm so glad you enjoyed, as always I love hearing your commentary on all my fics and glass was no exception. ty for giving me so much motivation to keep going :)

[nomsfaultau]

Hiiii, just wanted to say that your work is amazing and it’s completely consumed my thoughts and—

How would karaoke night go with the Fault crew? Sprinkle all the mundane/chaos that can ensue…Let’s say that against all odds, they’re in a safe enough period where they don’t have to worry about anything and just muck around! On a scale of 1-10, how would each person fare?

Also if it’s alright can we find out how Skeppy and Halo are doing, please say they’re having a happy life somewhere off the grid like the forest or deep within the mountains ekekeiwkwk

Okay Tubbo can't sing very well. However. If anyone points this out, Tubbo can start singing the song of the End Times and literally destroy the world. So. Everyone is careful to give them lots of compliments while Tubbo grins mischievously. They have a pretty broad variety of songs, and Jasmine demands a turn to sing the ABCs (because there are 26 of them! AND it's hard to get them in order) and gets thunderous applause. Or else. 100/10, just threaten the jury!

Wilbur try-hards it in a way that's very cringe. Like, you AREN'T supposed to be good at karaoke, but nobody told him that? So it's out here like harmonizing and it's like bro....bro now everyone else feels inadequate......the only thing leveling the playing field is he only knows songs that play in Walmart and has a trash memory. So he's purely playing it by ear, but that just makes it worse when it's still amazing. Also Wilbur found out the buffet table is infinite and has eaten everything except the nachos, which are inedible even to him. 0/10

Philza scrolls through the music selection for a very very long term, a little misty eyed as he picks songs literally no one has ever heard from that hold memories of old Collecteds. About half way through he gets a fragment of a song stuck in his head and desperately googles it for two hours. It's from like 5 centuries ago and when he finally unearths some recording of music he gets cross that 'those aren't the right lyrics!' But other than that he's having a swell time and okay yeah he's a little tipsy and keeps gushing about how much he loves his kids but other than being sappy and old, not the worst karaoke companion. 7/10.

When they first get there, The Blade swears he's doing one song AND THAT'S IT. Because he's built it up a little as an ordeal in his head and is nervous. His voice is perpetually pretty gravelly, and he has zero idea how well he's doing since the voices are singing along too. But then he kinda has fun with it and starts bopping, and unwinds since his friends are only lightly teasing. So he ends up going the whole night. The Blade exclusively sings Taylor Swift titles. Tommy is going to kill him. I think Rosalind had a Taylor Swift phase so Tubbo is just embarrassed. He makes sure to clap for everyone else and he hooves go clack clack cklack. Does not fit in the table booth tho. and the mic is so so tiny in his hands. He accidentally breaks it at least twice and they have to wait for a replacement. 5/10.

Someone else has to hold the mic for Tommy to avoid contamination, so he ends up in a lot of duets. He's incredibly enthusiastic and asserts that he has the most talent of anyone. Mostly very recent popular hits (from his pov). Tries to rap but gets completely tongue tied. Eventually tries to find the songs with the most cuss words so he can see how bad the muffin censorship gets. About half way through the night Tommy starts trying to sneak alcohol. Except actually he realizes that no one in the room can rat him to his mom, or even really knows about underage drinking laws. Okay Tubbo does, but like he's surrounded by friends some of which are sober, so the kiddo's fine. 7/10.

For some reason I always pictured Skeppy and Halo living in a sitcom apartment alongside Charlie, the woman Charlie body horror puppeted in order to escape, her wife, and Chad Bowinger my beloved. But I guess a bunker in the mountains makes more sense! Medical attention was probably the first thought, trying to patch up Halo's wings. Maybe they eventually heal and because Skeppy lost so much weight in the Foundation he can now be flown around? Very bittersweet but still. And Skeppy can show Halo all the movies and books he missed in the decades he was trapped, with the humans and Charlie catching them up on everything else. I picture mostly lighthearted recovery and awkward bonding between strangers from starkly different backgrounds. Lots of shenanigans too.

[divinekangaroo]

hi! i commented on the fic itself but i have to know more - absolutely loved ‘just enough to let me drown’ and very intrigued by the essay you said you could write about ‘the one thing he’s never done’ - if you’re up for it, i would love to hear said essay

Link to work in progress fic:

Many, many overlapping concepts, really, which are difficult to get into a coherent flow. I have attempted across a couple of posts!

Relevant interlocking quotes and some notes within:

Tommy’s standing in the hotel foyer conflicted between wanting and not wanting people to recognise him and Diana, and he thinks:

‘…a hope they were recognised [can someone on the outside see something’s not right here?], because it scratched [listening for the sound of something on the other side of the tunnel wall scratching through] at him uneasily [see below], this particular proving, her dressed like that [upper class] and him dressed like this [working man]. If Mosley was somehow contriving to hit him with a charge of rape[where did that word suddenly come from, Tommy, with no context for it?], or to blackmail him with this somehow [Mosley has blackmailed Tommy before], there might be some doubt if people witnessed him and her together at peace [peace is a loaded word for Tommy: truce? weapons down? death (RIP)?  Or simply acceptance?] … It hurt so much [being raped hurts] to think that word [rape] for some reason [why are you being vague, Tommy?  You know the reason]. Tommy Shelby, gone down at last [put in prison/convicted/hung] for rape. The one thing he’d never done [how so very ironic if he was convicted in a legal system for this, given further context below]. He was so careful about that [not committing rape]. [Because he’s so very careful that sex is either a clear transaction/trade for coin, hence the prostitutes, or because he makes sure to explicitly verbally articulate the question “Do you want to fuck/fuck me?” and obtains return consent.] He knew there was a line [reference to crossing the line, in the context of going too far and not caring about unintended consequences, raping children, impact to Charlie, abusing power, abusing trust, or in this context, committing a sex act a rape]. It was barely a thread [the line itself is very difficult to see and it’s so thin and easy to cross and it’s also very easy to break].’

When he’s in the hotel room kneeling on the floor between Diana’s legs, the actual quote from palmviolet’s query:

‘This same odd ringing trepidation [anxiety/tunnels again, the looming dread of hearing and waiting for the collapse or explosion or bang] from before, that word [rape] like a bell [the institutional bell; institutions and the abuse of power particularly against children]. The one thing he’d never done [per the first quote, but the trepidation now intensifies because he’s actually in a sexual position now, and he also has a visual loop of sexualised violence playing in his head as a kind of unexpected thing which is making him hard.  The first quote using this statement was an intellectual response (they might be setting me up for rape) but thinking it now is because of this layer born from hyperanxiety/intrusive thinking (what if I accidentally do rape her?)] Why did he keep thinking it? [rape.  And why does he keep thinking it?  He can’t set the word aside.  More on this below] Imagine leaving Charlie with that for a father [more on this below]. Not that on top of everything else.  [Rape being the worst crime Tommy can think of, he’d accept going down for murder, for theft, extortion, tax crimes, smuggling, but not rape.  More on this below]’

And then after the act, where we circle back to his canon flashback on the narrowboat, when he ‘found himself at the narrowboat’ [also a deliberate choice of “found himself:” he’s back at his first childhood home to find himself after being lost and adrift with Diana]:

‘Sprawling on that narrow bunk where his father slept with his mother and fucked her willing and unwilling [confusing for kids because why could sex sometimes be ok and sometimes not?] for years while they all listened and did nothing.’ [Home was the first place he learned about rape, the source of why rape is the worst crime Tommy can think of because it's the only marker that now distinguishes himself from his violent father, and the first place he felt powerless against rape/sex generally.  More below.]

Broader Thought Piece:

Three layers in the quote palmviolet flagged

The first superficial layer, intended to be overtly read, is him thinking this: they have so much power over him, and sex from a position of power is rape; Diana could easily cry rape before, during or after, and her word against his would see him put away. After everything he’d done and contrived and hidden, it would be this stupid sex act where he’s not even actually raping her that sees him done and hanged. It would be ironic and horrible.

Except that’s the oh so very easy thing to think. Thinking that repeatedly and on loop lets him cope with the shape of the word rape without having to think the more disturbing and deeper thing, the thing that “scratched at him uneasily”. Because he doesn’t want to have sex with Diana, and yet he will have sex with Diana, and there’s no guarantee there is a transaction or a return benefit to make this an overt acceptable trade, because Diana didn’t agree to help him. And if he doesn’t want sex and there’s no transaction and yet sex is still happening, that’s rape, isn’t it?

Except he cannot think that about himself. Not only for the attack that the thought makes on his identity, masculinity and power, but also because the very law and mores of the time don’t even let that be considered. It’s not possible for a woman to rape a man. Yet this stupid word keeps bouncing around his skull, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he pivots it even further into this twisted anxiety of ‘I might accidentally commit rape on her, because I am a violent man, and my mind’s decided to think some pretty violent sexual things which she can’t possibly want. And unfortunately I can’t actually speak (part of the oral trauma was the symbolism of violently silencing him, albeit he’s not that badly hurt) to ask her the way I might usually do, and so I have no way of navigating this sanely’.

These three readings as the guts of the fracture in Tommy’s thinking:

- ‘they have power over me and might get me for rape’ (which he thinks is rational but is actually irrational) – surface

- ‘why do I keep thinking the word rape? Why?’ (the emotional response/the anger and disgust and shame) the hook for the reader to recognise it’s him avoiding thinking he’s being raped – call this one the deepest layer, because he can’t even get near to thinking anything like this about himself

- the anxiety / intrusive thinking (which is absent of rationality rather than irrational) of ‘I might actually accidentally commit rape given my potential for violence and that this woman has made me angry.’ - call this the middle layer, he is aware of it at some level

Not forgetting Tommy’s rationalising that he’s doing this voluntarily, in order to eventually get what he wants out of them. He *could* just walk out of that room, right, she can’t stop him doing that. So the surface thought and middle thought are driving his actions, but the deeper thought/emotion is silenced but drives all his emotional trauma.

Gaslit into participating in his own rape

I refer to Diana x Tommy as Tommy being gaslit into participating in his own rape. He rationalises it to himself and hence participates. It’s only that deepest level of emotion/thought implied in the above quote that screams you’re being raped, trying to get him out of that room. (He manages immobility, and he manages one half-step backwards at one point, that's it.)

I speculate Tommy’s had some very open conversations with Dr Holford (a whole essay and fic in itself) which Diana and Mosley had full access to, plus a lot of background research by Mosley (alluded to with Mosely’s S5 reference to May and Diana’s S6 statement on ‘research’ to Ada; I headcanon they also spoke to Tatiana), plus Holford accessing Tommy’s earlier psychologist/psychiatrist records. They *know* Tommy’s mental/emotional state. So, when he reaches out to Diana for her financial/influential help, they contrive to put him in this situation and seem to greatly enjoy the fact he thinks he still has some kind of voluntary participation in it.

This is why I call it gaslighting and why I still think it’s rape, even though he does have all his layers of rationalising as well. The crux of this being gaslighting is: Tommy has already been given his false terminal diagnosis. His rationalising doesn't hold true if the basis of his belief is their lying.

Mosley (and Diana) have already decided that Tommy has no further use for them and he needs to die. They no longer need Tommy coming across to work under Mosley and bring political power with him. Diana fucking Tommy in this way, and the scene they then contrive with Lizzie, is entirely just Diana and Mosley fucking around for their amusement, seeing how far they can push Tommy before he kills himself or does something dangerous/destructive. His compliance is no longer meaningful to them in any political way. They just want him to hurt and they want to drive this man to suicide.

[more to come]

[crimsonwing62]

Bruh, okay I just had this idea so bear with me...

I'm re-watching heartstopper. now i hyper fixated on this show last year and I'm currently hyper fixated on Stranger Things especially the Fanon of Steddie and The Fruity Four (Six?).

I had a thought - the parallels. The similarities...

Nick Nelson and Steve Harrington - Golden retriever sports king, chaotic bisexual, Heart of Gold, and expected by social structure to be a certain way, date a certain type of person. Meets someone and *learns some things*. Fixated on his hair. A smooth mf whose also a dork.

Charlie Spring and Eddie Munson - The outcast at school but comes out of his shell with his friends. uncertain when it comes to love because of previous experiences. Nerdy, Curly Hair, Smart, Musically inclined. ? Potential MH issues - depending who you ask

Darcy Olsen and Robin Buckley - Awkward, Chaotic Lesbian, Confident in herself, Rejects society by dressing however they want, also musically inclined, Possibly knows Charlie/Eddie via band. The scene on the rugby field where Darcy asks Charlie if him and nick are friends or *friends*, I think Robin would do the same.

Tara Jones and Nancy Wheeler - Confident badass, Observing everything. Less confident in her sexuality than Robin as she hasn't consciously known for long.

Also, The kiss when we were 13 and Stancy dating parallel.

Tao Xu and Jonathan Byers - Film/photography obsessed, not academically inclined but copes well at school and smart in other ways. protective of friends/family

Elle Argent and Argyle - okay there's hardly any parallels between these but I also don't know much about Jargyle.

Isaac Henderson and Will Byers - Quiet, out the way, creative, when they speak they mean what they say and when they relax they come out of their shells. doesn't quiet work with the Byler ship and AroAce Isaac but they're parallels not 100% match up.

Harry Greene and Tommy H - homophobic prick who may or may not be in love with their best friend. (not that Harry and Nick are friends but some friend group)

Ben Hope and Billy Hargrove? - abusive arseholes that hide behind macho bravado. Tries to date women to hide their fruity tendencies (The girl at the gate and Karen Wheeler)

Imogen Heaney and Carol Perkins? - only girl in an all male friend group. Or Tammy Thompson - Tries to woo Steve but fails bc he is in love with someone else (I know in canon timeline

Tori Spring and Max Mayfield - ignoring the age difference, Sarcastic, Observant, teasing, sibling like relationship

Oliver Spring and Dustin Henderson - okay personalities don't quiet match up buuut hyperactive, annoying younger sibling energy, that absolutely adores both Charlie/Eddie and Nick/Steve.

Mr Ajayi and Mr Hagan - kind, amazing teacher who actually cares about their students well being. offers a safe space in their classrooms.

Julio Spring and Wayne Munson - protective quiet presence in their children's lives. not seen much but we know they'll be ready to bat for their kid in a heartbeat if they asked.

Yan Xu and Jim Hopper - no reason other than they "leave the bedroom door open a tad" comment...

Idk that's all I got there's sooo many more characters I've missed but those are the ones my brains found so far.

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

20 and 21 for ghostbur :]

Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

This question makes me a little sad because Ghostbur really didn’t have… much of any good, true friends during his life. He had Friend, of course, and Tommy, but everyone else didn’t seem to actually care much about him :/ People like Ranboo and Phil even seemed happy when he died. It’s just really sad to me.

In another universe, Ghostbur would’ve been soooooo loved & cherished and he would’ve had sooooo many wonderful friends who deeply loved him :’)

But! To answer the question aksgajsgajsg I must give Two answers: Friend and Charlie Slimecicle.

Friend and Ghostbur’s close bond is very canon, and for good reason!! They’re freakin adorable! The way Friend chooses to stick with his human, even though sheep are flock animals and almost always prefer to be with other sheep… 🥺 And the way Ghostbur always, always, always searches for his sheep when he gets lost or loses a life, and never once gives up the search until he finds Friend… 🥺 PLEASE. THE DEVOTION!!!

Friend also really really helps Ghostbur with his mental issues, and has a very calming effect on the ghost—super similar to a service pet! I think it’s such a neat relationship and, even though Friend is an animal and not a fellow human, his and Ghostbur’s friendship really is so sweet and just… filled to the brim with love <3 Strong, devotional love and it’s so wholesome.

I really think Charlie and Ghostbur would’ve been so good for each other 😭 Their personalities are so similar and I think they’d relate on a lot of things!! Even their speech patterns are similar 😅 IT PAINS ME THAT THEY NEVER GOT ANY CANON INTERACTIONS. OH WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN.

Oh my gosh I could totally see these two becoming close and really getting to know & trust each other and and and 🥺 Oh… what could have been, truly.

If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

OOOOOOOH

Okayokay, let me think about this for a moment… oh this is such an interesting question. Oh yes.

I really adore Ghostbur’s perspective/worldview, and it’s so pleasant to write :) Whether it comes through in his dialogue or I’m just describing what he’s thinking about, he’s got such a clearly unique point of view, and it’s a joy to write!! Seriously such a pleasure! Ghostbur is a lovely soul with a lovely mind, and it’s really cool to kind of… I guess see it for myself through writing. It’s really awesome :)

The way he thinks is so sweet and simple and hopeful and poetic, but there’s also a deepness that’s so striking and thought-provoking—and, often, deep deep layers of sadness & emotional turmoil as well. It all blends together in SUCH a beautiful way, and just… dudeeee. Ghostbur is the Best little guy <33

As for things I don’t like… hm. I don’t know if I can come up with anything specific :0 I guess I’m always a little worried that I’m writing him wrong, or making him either “too childish” or “too serious” or whatever. It’s nothing too bad though, and for the most part I really do enjoy writing him!

[runnning-outof-time]

You know it's kind of poetic how Tommy did everything to not be like his parents but in the end he still ended up like them in a way. Financially, his family were taken care of but he was an absent father to Charlie. I don't know if he resented his mom in a way for abandoning them but he almost did it too at one point.

I let this sit in my inbox for too long, and I’m so sorry about that anon!! Thanks so much for sending this thought my way though!! 🥰🥰

Reading this made me think of an amazing story written by @peakyswritings … it’s called Bloodline and it really tries to grapple with these strained relationships that Tommy has with both his parents and then his children. It’s an super, super interesting read. You can check it out HERE!!

It really is an interesting one to think about because we see so many instances of Tommy trying to be better than his parents (his father especially) but at the same time he’s got so many tendencies derived from the both of them.

He worked and worked to make sure that his family could have what he couldn’t when he was growing up, and that in turn took a toll on the relationship that he had with his children (Charlie especially - he was basically alone in between Grace and Lizzie being there, and those were surely the years when he needed a parent the most).

Resentment is a good word to use when thinking about his thoughts towards them. I’m not sure if I’d go that far in regards to his mother, but I think he was certainly upset with how she left them…the only reason why I don’t think he straight up resents her is because he saw what she was pushed to, and in the later seasons exhibits some of those feelings himself.

Thanks so much for sending these thoughts my way!! As always, feel free to send any others in — I enjoy thinking through them and sharing my thoughts on them!! 🥰

[novashelby]

Nova!!!!!!!!!! Evie related question: did Evie’s grandparents tried to get her back from Tommy when they learned he had adopted her? What did Tommy do?

Another question: would Evie still sneak in Tommy’s bed (not in a weird way) when she couldn’t sleep when she was a teenager??? 🥰

I LOVE EVIE RELATED QUESTIONS so thank you! haha

So, funny thing about her grandparents, they are actually really well off. Her grandma is an art collector/dealer. And her grandda was a Doctorate Professor at Harvard. His field is archeology and anthropology. Both come from Ireland, and ironically, are extremely pro-Irish. They've given money to the IRA. In regards to Evie, she has some memory of them and they were so loving of her. Actually, they begged Cindy(her mother) to let Evie stay with them. But Cindy has so many mental health problems; OCD, BP1, BPD, and Narcissism personality disorder. Her grandparents did EVERYTHING for Cindy, but Cindy would just be off and on, and reckless. So, they got really drained from it. Since they are Irish, they heard through the grapevines that Tommy Shelby adopted her. They never wanted to get her back because they knew she was so loved and taken care of when they went to Birmingham. It wasn't Tommy, however. It was Polly. Evie was about 16 at the time and she was at school. Polly told them all about her and gave them a school portrait from when she was 11 and an old drawing. Polly never told Tommy or Evie. But they were so fucking happy for her, and even though they were sad about not being able to see her, they understood completely. In a way, they felt they had other grandchildren and to take Evie back would have been selfish. (They had three kids: Robert, Laura, and Cindy). Cindy is 100% estranged from the family. She really chose her life because there was no reason for her to prostitute herself.

2. So, she did it regularly until about 11. But every once in awhile, she'd climb into bed with him after that but it tethered off around 12. Grace when they got married, got really strict about that. She adored Evie, but she felt uncomfortable sometimes by their relationship. Evie is a cuddler. But not just with Tommy. It wasn't unusual for Evie to cuddle in his lap even well into her 20's. However, she'd also cuddle everyone else; Finn, Polly, Ada, Charlie, Ruby, John, Arthur, her best friend Martha... She'd only climb into his bed as a teenager if something was wrong. (TW: SA) She was severely sexually assaulted at a house party when she was 16. Sadly it was her second time. Her first time, she went over to Anna's home(girl from school). The girls were having a sleepover. Evie was taking a shower. Normally houses only had baths, but Anna's family was well off. While in the shower, the girls thought it was funny to take her clothing and towel, hiding it. When Evie got out of the shower, she had to run to the bedroom where a group of older boys were. When she tried to get out, Anna and her two friends held the door. After they roughed her up, they laughed and Evie called home to get picked up. So around that time, she hated sleeping alone. She'd actually often cuddle with Finn if he was around.

BUT thank you so much for asking questions. Come back again. :) and feel free to spam me. This is Evie's month.