#only felt a tad bit sleepy at around 4 to 5 am

[neo-shitty]

🍕.

[babylooneytoonz]

Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Reader]

Quick link to find all the other parts here.

Part-5

In the bleak midwinter, when everything was dark and decaying, you had one hope. A tiny ray of light; in the form of her shrill cries—

You named her Sophie.

All that pain, all those endless hours of screaming, cursing and writhing in pain, she had finally made an appearance at 4 am on an early winter morning in Birmingham, her tiny black hair mopped over her small, round head. She was beautiful, her tiny hand, it could fit in your wedding band.

She had her father's blue eyes, and maybe, she would have Tommy's cheekbones when she grew up.

How you loved those cheekbones—

As you nursed your newborn to sleep, you felt a pang in your chest, and a sudden breathlessness; your heart aching for him. If only, he was here right now. If only, he could hold her, press her to his chest, and promise he will watch over her for the rest of his life, devoting himself to the daughter he shared with you.

Now, six years later, the pain wasn't as severe as it was before.

Time heals all wounds—

No, it doesn't heal them, you just get so immune to the pain, you stop feeling it anymore. It's as though it becomes a part of you—

If there was one thing you could not have, the love of the man you wanted, you had found companionship; friendship in form of Theodore Wilkinson, your husband. Your daughter, your precious angel, your little Sophie, had a loving, nurturing father and you were happy.

But you couldn't stop her from growing up, could you?

You wished sometimes, that she was still a babe, curled at your chest, nestled away from all the harsh realities of this world, unaware, in a bliss. But then, she was growing up.

She was six today—

Although you couldn't afford to throw her a lavish birthday party, with all the money restrictions, the rent you had to pay, taking care of your husband, who was slowly dying, succumbing finally, to the infection that his leg had caught back in France, you did still do what little you could to make her day. Three of her friends had just left, their tummies full, remnants of the delicious chocolate lavendar cake you had baked still on the corners of their lips.

You stood by the door to your parlor, your eyes trained on your daughter who was sprawled over the carpeted floor, unwrapping what little presents she had, while her father sat in his wheelchair, not far from her, an excited, happy look on his face, causing you to smile as well. On days like this, you felt blessed, you felt thankful, that your daughter had gotten the love of both, a father and a mother. No child should be deprived of that.

Your husband's eyes caught you and you saw him bend slightly, whispering something into Sophie's ears as he slowly wheeled his way towards where you were standing.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asked you.

"She's growing up so fast, Theodore, I just—" You grumbled, both your eyes trained on her as she was still unwrapping one of the boxes, "— I wish time would slow down. It's like her childhood is slipping away and I'm losing you to —" You bit back on your tongue, to refrain yourself from saying it out loud, but it was too late, he had already caught you.

"T's okay love, you can say it. I'm dying. But there's nothing to be sad in that, is there? You gave me a new life in France, if it wasn't for you, I would have died back then, wouldn't have had the fuckin' chance to father such a lovely child."

"Theo—" You whispered, placing both your hands on his shoulders as you towered over him, giving them a slight squeeze.

This man had been nothing but kind to you. You wished you could love him the way you loved the man who didn't look back, left you and your daughter but you couldn't. No matter how hard you tried, there is a thing about love—the heart had a mind of its own; it wanted what it wanted, no matter how hard you tried to confuse it. Theo had always known that you didn't love him, not the way a wife should love his husband but he was okay with it. He knew that someone had broken your heart, so bad, you had stopped living, you just existed and he had often tried to ask you who he was, but you had never told him.

It surprised you today, when out of the blue, on your daughter's sixth birthday, he asked you the question you didn't want to answer.

"Would you deny a dying man a last wish?"

"You are not dying Theo—"

"Who was he, love? The man that broke your heart? Who's her father?" He pointed towards Sophie with his eyes.

"You are."

"Biological father, love." He said, a little sternly.

You sighed, your fingers toying aimlessly with each other. You had tried to stir him away from this for six years, but you didn't think you could lie any longer. And he was right, not when he was inching closer to death everyday. You could already see his bones, he hardly could keep food inside, you often had to keep him on a liquid diet.

So you decided, that tonight in bed, you would tell him everything because he deserved to know. And when you did, needless to say, he was shocked.

"Thomas Shelby? Thomas Fucking Shelby? That bloody gangster that threatens men with those fookin' razor blades?" Your husband had a priceless look on his face; as though he had mined out diamonds and was about to get rich.

"You talk about him like he's some fuckin' God."

"He is, to almost all of Birmingham, you see there's only a thin line between God and the devil, the devil is, after all, a fallen angel—" He groaned as he tried to get comfortable in bed but could not do so, his sore body making him almost curse in pain.

You couldn't help roll your eyes at him, shrug your shoulders and lay down on your back, closing your eyes, as you mumbled, "Go to bed, Theo, I have to be at the clinic early in the morning." You worked at a tiny clinic on the other side of the town; a clinic for the lower middle class, those who couldn't afford going to expensive doctors. But he paid you enough to keep your house over the head.

The next morning, you had woken up early and headed to the clinic and much to your dismay, there had been a blast at a factory nearby, which meant you had to extend your shift by a few hours as the casualty number was starkly high. It was almost ten at night and you had been working non stop for almost fourteen hours. Your body felt like it had been run over by a motorcar, your shoulders were tense and you had a spurting headache that caused you to groan in annoyance at any sound that you came across, while walking back home.

Little did you know that you were soon going to forget all this—

Your house was eerily quiet, and usually you could hear the sound of your daughter's words even when you had not started climbing up the stairs to your front door. But of course, it was late at night and it wouldn't be a surprise if your husband had somehow managed to tuck her in.

You unlocked the door with a sigh, stepping in and immediately sliding out of your shoes. The living room was dark, but you could see that the lights in Sophie's bedroom were switched on. Taking off your overcoat, you placed it on the hanger, noting an unfamiliar overcoat hanging on it. Who was visiting your house at 10 at night?

"Sophie, baby?" Your voice was trembling slightly, ringing through the hallway as you aimlessly called out; although you didn't know why.

That's when you heard the floorboard creak, somewhere in the house, just lightly but you had still caught it; and you knew you weren't alone.

The first thing you did was lunge at a vase nearby as a reflex, curling your fingers tight around it; switching on the light.

A sudden panic took over you and you turned towards the intruder.

"It's me, put the fucking vase down."

Just like his words, the vase slipped from your fingers, crashing against the floor as the horror sunk in. Oh, how you had imagined this night to be; the countless times you had rehearsed in your mind, what you were going to say to him, but right now, all you could manage to do was let out the breath you didn't even realise you were holding in.

It was as though you were standing face to face with your past—

After all these fucking years, he looked just the same; just a tad bit older perhaps & the way his hair was styled was so different now; and was that pain in his eyes? Was that regret? Regret he fucking left you like a discarded toy—

The relief of seeing him again was short-lived, and what followed it was a fear, a mother's instinct.

"Sophie. Where is she? Where is she?" You screamed out loud, hot tears sliding out of your eyes.

"Fucking hell," He almost snapped in annoyance, "Stop, she's inside —"

"How the fuck did you even find us? What the fuck are you doing in my fucking house?"

You were going mad; you were going crazy. You could feel your body shake like a leaf. Tommy tried to hold you by your shoulders to stop you from shaking but you pushed his hands away, taking a step away.

"Sophie?" You turned back around; running towards your daughter's bedroom. Pushing the door open, you stepped in, only to find her asleep in bed, her teddy bear tucked into her arm. You slid down on the floor, next to the bed, running your fingers through her hair and slowly, she fluttered her eyes open, probably having been woken up from sleep, "Mummy?"

"Baby, mummy's here, you don't have to be afraid. Where's your daddy?"

She shifted in bed, bringing her teddy up to her chest, "Which daddy mummy? The old one or the new one?"

"What do you mean? Of course, you've got one daddy, baby."

There was a sudden silence in the room. It didn't make sense; there sat your daughter's real father, in the living room of your house. And here, your daughter's words didn't make any sense.

"Daddy said that he is my new daddy, I haven't seen him since then," your daughter's sleepy voice reached you.

"When did this happen, baby?"

"When daddy took me to meet my new daddy. Now will you come to bed with me?" She rubbed her sleepy eyes with her palms.

It all made sense now.

"Go to sleep, baby. Mummy will join you in a minute. Mummy wants to speak to your daddy."

Her real daddy.

You were about to stand up, when her sleepy, broken words reached your ears, "Is my new daddy still here? I want him mummy."

You sighed, barely audible as you tucked her into her blanket, kissing her forehead before you made your way out, closing the door slowly without slamming in. Your shoes flapped against the wooden floorboards as you stormed your way into your bedroom, only to find an empty bed, the place where Theodore used to rest. You didn't understand.

Your nostrils flared; your eyes burnt in hatred. That man had probably done something, of course, he was Thomas Fucking Shelby, capable of anything.

You stepped into the hallway, screaming his name until you were once again standing face to face.

"THOMAS?!"

Today, you were going to confront him, this was the day you had been waiting for, but you sure had hoped it would be in better circumstances—

"Where the fuck is my husband?"

"Sit down."

"Thomas, just tell me what did you do to him? Did you kill him? Did you fucking kill him because you couldn't stand —"

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, WILL YOU BLOODY SIT DOWN?"

He cut you off, screaming back at you, just as loudly as you were screaming, your chest heaving up and down.

Finally, you dropped down on the edge of the couch, as though you were nothing but a lifeless corpse. You looked at him, your eyes clouded with mist; hatred in your eyes.

"You shouldn't have come back, I was so happy without you."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy sit doen on a couch opposite to you, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he pushed them apart, arching his body forward, his cold, conniving eyes scrutinizing you. His fingers shuffled through his breast pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes and a stick, pinning it to his lips. As you saw him light a match, his face glowing orange under the light from the tiny source of fire, you could see the haunting in his eyes, the questions buried deep within his soul.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"

You sat back, your back brushing against the backrest as you eyed him, a bitter smile creeping against the corner of your lips.

"What good would have come from telling you anyway? You were busy with that blonde bartender of yours, what was her name? Ah, yes, Grace."

Tommy's hand clenched into a fist at the mention of her name, his knuckles almost cracking and a warning look crossed his eyes.

"Don't drag her into this mess you've fucking created."

"Where is my husband?" Your immediate question followed; your body a little relaxed now. If he wanted to have a discussion like adults, you were going to give him one.

"Your husband—" You stiffened, sensing the bitterness in his throat; the way the words rolled out of his lips, venomous, ugly. You could sense the danger lurking within the walls of his emotionless eyes, a danger you wanted to shield your daughter from.

"I freed him."

You stood up, towering over him, blinking; confused.

"What?"

You watched as the man you once loved bring the cigarette up to his lips, smoke belting out of his mouth, coiling around him like a snake.

"Guess I had a visitor, an unexpected one, for that matter. At first, I didn't believe what he told me; that he was your fucking husband."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HUSBAND?"

"I just handed him the gun—"

You could listen no more. Your throat contracted, a sudden feeling of someone choking and twisting your insides took over you, and you doubled up, pressing your palm to your lips, a wave of nausea hitting you. You then recoiled away from him.

He killed your husband.

"Why?" You whispered; your tears falling freely off your eyes, looking into his eyes for any form of emotion, if there was any left inside of him.

"He begged me for release."

You knew he wasn't lying, the man that was dead inside him, the boy you knew, did not lie to you. Not when he was looking you straight in the eye. Your memories flew back to the day he had confessed to not having given Jasper the locket that was intended to be his goodluck charm, which was now dangling from his waistcoat.

"You couldn't live without taking another one's life, did you? You couldn't fucking keep your hands off my husband, you fucking did it again."

Tommy stood up, letting the butt of the cigarette drop to your floor and he stomped on it, his hands flying to his waist. He took a step forward, towering over you, his mind struggling to keep in control the rage that was building inside him.

"I did what he asked me to, hand him the fucking gun. It's a soldier's thing, you won't bloody understand."

"Are you religious, Thomas?" You stood up abruptly, ignoring how close you were standing from him, your chest almost parallel to his.

"Never was."

"Then stop trying to be a fucking God."

You felt numb, your thoughts scattered, your heart wailing in agony. You turned away from him, you couldn't look him in the eye. He was a murderer. Even if it was your husband who had wanted it.

You knew it, with every bit of your heart, how Theodore hated being like this; in pain, like a heavy burden on your shoulders, but he shouldn't have done it. The realisation hit you, how he had asked you who Sophie's father was and maybe, just maybe you had lied, maybe it wouldn't have happened.

"Is she mine?" That cold voice was at it again, clawing through your mind like a shovel.

After all that you had been through, he thought she wasn't his.

"Why are you here if she isn't yours?"

He didn't answer.

"Get the fuck out of my house, out of my life, back into the fucking hole you crawled out from and out of my daughter's life. You've murdered my husband, I wouldn't let you touch a hair on my girl's head."

Something shattered around you; a beautiful vase, scattering to pieces around you as Thomas took his anger out on it, smashing it to the wall. Without saying anything, you watched as he turned around, taking his coat off the coat hanger.

"If she's my girl, there's no one that can stop me from seeing her, ay?"

With one last warning, your front door slammed shut and you were engulfed in a sudden emptiness, in a big empty house— a widow, with a daughter to raise.

(A/N - The GIFs are not mine, found one on Google and liked it so I saved it. Let me know if it is yours and I will credit you. 💕)

@sighonahurricane hope you like it.

[tiredyetsoft]

There's so many reasons why I love her, just the way she is makes me feel like life has a beautiful meaning, but it was easier to make a list and I went to 100 last time right? Oh well I'll stop when I stop this time, even though I'll never stop having reasons to love her because holy mother of hell is she amazing 1. She's absolutely beautiful, I said this before and I'll say it again she's the prettiest girl you'll ever meet, eyes like an ocean and smile so bright that the sun looks dark 2. The way that she comes off a bit shy but once you get to know her she's so complex and interesting and always has something cool to say, or she can just have bullshit conversations at 3-4 am cause she's just that funny 3. How much she cares about me, seriously, again I'm probably repeating myself but she's the one person that has stayed constant in the years I've known her, she'll help me through anything that I can't do on my own, for example I started seriously disassociating last night (Tuesday night for me) and I was scared and the people I was surrounded by didn't know what was going on so I messaged her and she stayed up till I was able to function again, helping me find ground when it felt like someone had ripped me from my own body and flung me into the air and I was plummeting back down, to word that better she caught me so I didn't hit the concrete like I usually do 4. I love the way she moves, in little ways, like the way her mouth forms a smile and the way she starts wiggling slightly when she's excited about something, or the way her eyes go from a hard blue to a softer blue when she looks at me or the way she can seem to shrink down slightly and be so smol when she gets sleepy and cuddly 5. Have I ever told you about just how much I love her personality? Probably but here we go again. She's either the sweetest person you'll meet or the most terrifying, and either way I just love every bit of her, she cares so much about what she loves, and will protect who she loves, (trust me I've seen her get protective of me, not only is it hot as hell but also really really amazing) 6. Her face. Now let me explain why this is different from me calling her beautiful, her face to me is so...interesting. Not only is it beautiful but I've never seen someone that can put away emotions to do something or have an entire face of emotions, smiling brightly or glaring menacingly, there's so much more there than beauty, so much more than an outward appearance, because I know a lot about her, so I know what's under her smiles and glares and sparkly blue eyes and just...god I really love looking at her 7. How comforting she is, I can be having a full mental breakdown and she'll just talk to me and immediately I feel like even though right now sucks major ass, it'll be okay cause she's there for me... 8. Her kisses. Let me tell you. They're so soft and nice and make me feel drunk with happiness and even a little kiss on the nose makes me feel like I'm the best person there, even if it is temporary thanks to my own head. 9. I know I said this but I love her hands, don't ask why, I just really like them, they're soft and nice and fun to look at and play with and just feel against mine and I just love them 10. I love her smile. I know I know "that's so basic" but you don't get it, when she smiles it's the best thing because she doesn't smile that often, and I do anything I can to make her smile and when I make her smile or she laughs at some stupid stunt I've pulled or she's just happy in general and smiling it's the best feeling to make her smile and see her be happy just makes my heart go !!! 11. Have I ever talked about when she's so sleepy she's loopy? Oooohhh lemme tell you it is the best thing, she's so silly and nice and cute it's the best thing ever just oops that makes me so much gayer 12. I love that I can do her nails sometimes, lemme rephrase that, I love when I can make her look even better than she does already, cause when I do her nails and makeup it makes her all happy and it makes me so incredibly gay 13. I love her voice, just the way she talks, it's so soothing and cute and soft and when she sings good lord I get little goosebumps, her voice is my one of my many favorite things 14. I love how silly she can be, making stupid jokes that make me laugh and her memes, oml i love her but her memes are just, interesting lol 15. I love her soft skin, cuddling is the best thing ever, she's so soft and nice and when I can just feel her next to me it makes me so incredibly happy just omfg I'm gay 16. I love the way her jackets feel and smell when I get to wear them occasionally, to me it smells like home (sorry if that's just a tad weird) 17. I love her...everything about her, even if I list every detail on her face and body and personality I would never run out of reasons why I love her more than anything in this universe 18. I love the way she hugs me, she wraps her arms around me and it makes me feel so safe and happy and I really love her hugs 19. I love her cute curves, she has such a nice figure and it makes her so attractive and I just wanna buy her a million dresses and see her little curves rocking every dress Okay because I have a headache I'll summarize and by that I mean ramble incessantly Literally Cynthia is the reason I believe true love exists, It was literally love at first sight and I haven't regretted a single thing since I've known her, she's the best person and I love her more than anything...I love her more than I love music and that means something cause I love music a LOT Her tiny little smile is so cute and amazing and I love kissing her like everywhere cause she's soft and sweet and she always smells nice, like ugh I love her so much I can't even think of words right now but she's my favorite person in the universe and I really really love her she's just so cute and pretty and fun and awesome and I can't even say everything I wanna say cause I'd be here for even longer So for now, farewell, I can't think of words besides saying over and over that I love her more than any stupid saying could explain