#peaky blinder

[rei-is-still-here]

Finding Delilah (Part 5)

<Part 4

Summary: Comfort, memories, and choices collide.

A/n: A lot of things happen in this chapter, so I hope it doesn’t seem too messy…

Word count: 3.3k

Content includes: Abuse, Casual anti-romani racism, mentions of death and murder

1917

“How many times did I say not to talk with those dirty gypsies!” Malcolm’s father roared as he whipped the boy with his leather belt, hitting against the tough skin of his freckled back. Malcolm looked behind at his father and said behind gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

“She’s not dirty, Papa! She’s a good girl…She don’t mean any harm!”.

His father lowered his belt and took one good look at the angry red welt on Malcolm’s back. “Sit down boy,” he instructed. His father placed a hand on Malcolm’s back making him hiss at the painful sting. Maybe it was guilt that crept across the old man’s face—or something like it. He couldn’t seem to meet his son’s gaze. Malcolm relented and sat stiffly next to his father as he was told, looking down at the floor, fiddling with the seam of his trousers waiting for what his father would say next.

“Now, you know why Papa gets really angry when you talk and play with people you don’t know….” His father’s voice faltered, trailing into the thick, suffocating air.

Malcolm bit down on the inside of his cheek, “But Papa…she’s not people…I know her”

Delilah wasn’t just anyone. She was his light. His sanctuary. The only soul whose laughter stitched something broken inside him back together. Malcolm would never allow anyone to speak ill about Delilah. She was his escape. And the only girl who’s energy made him smile. Her happiness made him happy. And that was all he needed.

“Her family are a bunch of gypsies for goodness sakes boy!” He bellowed, his face grimacing, causing the wrinkles on his forehead to deepen.

The insult hit harder than any belt. Malcolm shot to his feet, fists clenched at his sides.

“Why does that matter Papa? You go to the same church as her Aunt and help those same gypsies that you spit on! Mama was a gypsy, so what do you have to say about that?!”

“Well look where that fuckin got her!”

Malcolm stared in disbelief at his father’s words, at his audacity. His mama had passed away from a sickness two years ago. He hadn’t known exactly what sickness had hollowed her out, but he remembered her pale skin, the blue veins mapping across it like rivers, the way Nolan had sat by her bedside everyday—changing her dressings, feeding her broth—while their father disappeared to do God knows what.

His mother had the palest skin like snow. Eyes sunken like a beautiful worn sculpture.

“What does that mean?” Malcolm choked out.

“Your mom was cursed, boy. Magic. Cursed by her own fucking community”

“How do you know Papa? Why would they curse her?” he demanded to know.

“Some of them heard about what I did, and I guess they didn’t like that” His father shrugged nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t the cause of the problem. The whole situation that caused them to move to Small Heath in the very first place.

Malcolm sat back down and raked his fingers through his hair. His mother was a whore, Nolan was a known thief. Malcolm always knew that his family wasn’t really favoured by others back in his hometown. Never knew that the hate was so strong enough to kill someone.

His father was a criminal, constantly on the run from the law. Not sure what crime it was that led to his father threatening everyone in the village that he would kill them if they opened their mouths. But all Malcolm knew that it must’ve been horrible. The only people in the family who seemed to know about his father’s crime were his mother, Mary, and Nolan. And Nolan…he always looked like he'd seen it all.

“What did you do Papa…what did you do that made them so mad? Why’d they take it out on Mama?” Malcolm questioned with his head in his hands, fingers pressing deeply into his temples. Whatever the answer was, Malcolm knew he would still keep his mouth shut, and go on with whatever his father told him to do. He was always a Papa’s boy. He was always praised for it.

“What I did is none of your business. We came all the way here to make a name for ourselves. In here, we are no longer criminals”

Malcolm figured it was useless to try and ask and pry any further. It was clear that his father was never going to tell him and that he was probably going to die never knowing. He was just confused and wondered why it was his mother that was dragged into all this. Why his mother got the other end of the stick. Nolan once told him before he went to fight in France, “You can always reject your father, but you’ll always have your mother’s blood”. Malcolm never understood what that meant. Even now after Nolan had passed. People are always quick to blame your mother for how you turned out. So maybe whatever his father did, the village couldn’t take out their anger at him, out of fear of what he would or could do, then his mother would be the next choice.

“One more question Papa…”

“What now?”

“How long do I have to keep calling myself Malcolm?”

Delilah’s home, 1934

The lights were dim and the air was quiet back at Delilah’s humble abode. She lived in a small two story terrace building on the edge of Small Heath. It was much quieter here, slightly fewer gangs walking around, but still a walking distance from Saint Judes Church and Watery Lane. Her family had strongly advised her to move away from Small Heath when she mentioned that she wanted to continue living there. Everything happened there. Her whole life began there. It felt like she was letting go of everything she ever held on if she moved elsewhere. And Delilah didn’t like to let things go.

“You can’t stay here Dilly,” Polly urged.

“But Polly…I can’t seem to let go of Small Heath”, Delilah whispered.

“You need to move somewhere better, my love, your heart needs peace and Small Heath gonna give you that”

She knew that Polly meant well and was trying to help with her anxiety. Delilah was always weary and paranoid of something happening to her or anyone else in her family. It got to the point where her paranoia had caused her to be awake at the latest hour of the night, walking slowly to her siblings room, opening their doors hauntingly slowly, worrying that something might happen to them.

Ada would lift her blanket and invite her in and hold her tight, letting her know that she’s okay. “Come here Dilly, lay with me, see I’m right here…I’m okay”.

It always scared Arthur the most when she would peek at his door, but he always reassured her as well. “Bloody hell Delilah…You scared me. I’m alright, love”.

John never questioned it and would sit outside on the dining table, distracting her with meaningless conversations.

Oddly enough, Thomas never flinched. Maybe it was because he never slept and was just as paranoid as her. He shared the same fear, always hearing the sound of a pickaxe picking on the back of his wall. Delilah would always invite herself onto his bed, hugging him tightly and he would do the same. He had quickly learned that squeezing her tightly was effective in making her racing heart beat at a gentle pace.

Her home was warm. Not much furniture that filled the space. She liked it that way, not much clutter, especially since her mind was already very much cluttered with thoughts all over the place. Her bed was placed perfectly where the sun would shine through the window but wouldn’t glare directly into her eyes, but instead, bath her in its golden rays. Delilah didn’t do much at home. Her routine consisted of waking up, sometimes she would have breakfast, call Ada and Tommy, and sit on her couch until she would get tired and fall asleep.

She lived alone and didn’t, if not, never had anyone over at her home. But this was going to change because Ada had called a day ago while Delilah was preparing to go to sleep.

“Evening Dilly, are you free tomorrow?—of course you are, you’ve got nothing to do anyway”

Delilah scoffed at her sister’s snarky comment, “Well if taking care of Izzy counts then yes, I am very busy”.

“No, feeding and sleeping with that ginger cat of yours does not count”

Delilah laughed, her siblings never did like her ginger cat, Izzy. Arthur called it a dangerous thing because she bit him once and he now has a grudge. When John was still alive he would call her lazy girl, which wasn’t necessarily wrong. Tommy didn’t even want to be near it.

“If that’s the the case the no, I am not busy tomorrow”

“Good, I’ll be coming over tomorrow. No reason, just figured I wanted to see my cute little sister, mourn, and drink wine while we talk about our wonderful family”

Ada strutted through the busy streets with her large fur coat. Her makeup was elegantly done as always, red rogue perfectly making her lips stand out. She clutched her handbag and walked past the crowd. Ada had an aura and energy around her that made others turn their heads at her when she walked by.

Knock knock knock. She waited patiently for her little sister’s arrival. Soon later, Delilah slowly opened the door and immediately brought a smile to Ada’s face.

“Ada!” Delilah squealed as she yanked her sister inside by her arm.

Ada gasped but quickly balanced herself back on her feet and crossed her arms around her chest, looking at Delilah with that same look she always had. That “I missed you like crazy” look.

“Morning Delilah, I’ve missed my little sister,” Ada said with a playful raised brow as she wrapped her arms around Delilah’s frame.

Delilah assisted Ada to sit on the armchair and went to the kitchen. Ada removed her fur coat placing it on the coat rack, before sitting down comfortably.

“Wine or Whiskey?”

Ada scoffed at the question.

“Whiskey is for heartbreak. Wine, now that’s for grief”

Delilah was amused by that statement. It reminded her of a time where one of Tommy’s friends, or something like that, told her that Gin was for the melancholy and Rum was for violence. But she didn’t have any of those, so it was either Wine or Whiskey. Though wine was usually used for toast and celebrations while whiskey was more for numbing the pain, there was no use in numbing a pain that would never go away. So instead we commemorate it. And Polly was a person to celebrate.

Delilah poured the drink into their cups and they both raised a toast, “To Polly, one hell of a woman she was” said Ada. Delilah nodded and took a sip of her wine.

“That she was”

As they drank, Ada wrapped an arm around Delilah’s shoulder and layed on it. Ada took a deep breath and released a deep sigh. One that dissolved all the weight in her chest. Delilah let her eyes close shut gently. Just having Ada—her only sister, here with her was enough to anchor her back to the ground beneath her very feet. Delilah didn’t know that all she needed to remind her that she’s still real was for another human being to hold her hand and say, “I see you”.

“You know I’ll always be here with you right Delilah?” Ada blurted, her fingers lovingly brushing down Delilah’s brown curls.

Delilah melted into her sister's arms and grunted.

“I’ll remind you that you’re my little sister, and a very special woman in my life, if you go missing, be it physically or spiritually, I’ll never stop finding you”

Silent tears fell from Delilah’s eyes, Ada’s warm hands brushing circles on the small of her back. Ada's eyes flickered upward to the photo of Polly and John in his uniform framed very nicely near the fireplace. Delilah took the pictures from their rooms after they passed away.

“That's a nice picture of them you have there”

Delilah wiped her hot tears away, “Mhm…I don’t want to forget what they look like. I’ve already forgotten what Mom and Dad look like. And Malcolm…”

The mention of Malcolm’s name made Ada sit up straight. “Malcolm? wasn’t that your boyfriend as a kid?”. Delilah swatted Ada’s arm and Ada giggled playfully.

“No he wasn’t my boyfriend. He was just a really good friend of mine back when I was 9. I don't know why, but I have really bad memory. I seem to have forgotten what he looks like already…”

Ada shrugged, “Well it was 17 years ago, that is a long time, Dily”.

Delilah nodded and sighed. She realised that she was starting to forget faces when she couldn’t even get an image of her mother in her head when asked what she looked like. All she could remember was that she had beautiful blue eyes and a voice soft like a feather. And John, she almost forgot if he had brown or blond hair, or if he had freckles on his skin.

So for Polly, she promised she would never forget what she looks like. Polly had beautiful brown curls that she never failed to style so beautifully, every tie and every hairpin fit so perfectly. She had eyes that commanded and hands that could make a man crumble. Those same hands that soothed all her siblings to sleep

“I miss Pol, Ada”

“I miss her too love, let’s just sit here together and talk about her okay? I have all day”

Lucas Woods was wandering around Saint Jude’s Church. Everyone in Small Heath always joked about how Father Woods never leaves the Church. How his soul is stuck there. If you needed someone, you could bet your last penny that Lucas Woods would be there, sitting gracefully on a pew, staring off into the distance.

When the Church was empty—which was always the case, he walked out and found himself at the back of the Church. An overgrown grass patch with wildflowers, and an oak tree in front of him. The oak tree was calling for him to lay underneath it. For once, he felt his chest tightening and his heart telling him to just lay down and let the grass settle on him. Lucas made his way to the tree and hesitantly lowered his body down onto the grass. The tree leaves and long branches sheltering him from the blazing sun. He felt the tight strings stitched into his heart loosening slightly as he rested.

He must’ve fallen deeply asleep because he didn’t realise that there was another person who had been watching him as he rested.

“Delilah?”

Delilah’s eyes widened and she shook her head, “Oh, Oh! Lucas I’m so sorry! I was just walking around here and saw you laying down and thought something had happened to you…” she sputtered.

Her genuine concern was something that Lucas loved about that girl. He could not help but smile at her trying to explain herself. He blinked awake, sunlight shining in his eyes.

“That’s alright Delilah, I was just sleeping. Sorry to worry you my dear”

Delilah’s cheeks flushed a light shade of red. Lucas scooted a little to the side and patted on the empty space next to him. As soon as she sat next to Lucas she could feel the tension in her shoulders relax. Lucas was looking off into the distance as he always did and Delilah was staring at him once again. He just looked so unexplainably at peace but so tired at the same time. The way his eyes had heavy bags but the way his skin was reflecting off the sun so breathtakingly. She always thought everyone she saw was beautiful. And Lucas was beautiful. So painfully beautiful.

Lucas turned to face Delilah and gave her a warm smile, catching her off guard. “Is there something on my face?” he teased. Delilah laughed, “No Lucas, it’s just that…” she reached her hands out as she spoke, and her fingers rested ever so lightly on his textured skin. Lucas watched—feeling his heartbeat quicken and his face warming up slowly but he found himself never wanting her hands to leave.

“Just what, Delilah?”

“Just that you look so beautiful”

His eyes locked onto hers, a mix of surprise and vulnerability reflected in his gaze. As she touched his face, a gentle warmth spread through his body. He remained silent, unsure how to respond to the sincerity in her voice. The word "beautiful" hung in the air, unfamiliar yet deeply touching. For a moment, time seemed to pause, with only the sound of their quiet breathing filling the space between them. His silence wasn't indifference; it was the quiet reverence of someone hearing something beautiful for the first time.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” he mused.

Delilah didn’t respond. Instead, she just let her hands rest on his skin. She didn’t need him to believe her words. But she always felt that she needed to let others know just how beautiful they looked. She couldn't help but be captivated by the unique features of everyone she met. Each person's face told a story, and she found herself drawn to the distinct qualities that made them who they were. With an infectious enthusiasm, she'd often blurt out compliments, her words spilling from a genuine place of admiration. "You're so beautiful," she'd say, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. The way someone's smile lit up their entire face, the quirky shape of their eyebrows, or the radiant glow of their skin—each trait was a masterpiece in her eyes.

“You’re beautiful yourself, Delilah”

Delilah smiled sheepishly at his compliment. Hiding her face in her hands. “Goodness… Lucas, I'm so sorry” she chuckled.

“You just look like someone I once knew,” She muttered.

HMP Birmingham, 1934

The guard didn’t even look him in the eye when he unlocked the cell door.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he muttered.

Michael Shelby stood from the narrow bed, smoothing the wrinkles from his worn shirt. His expression sharpened with suspicion—he wasn’t expecting anyone. Not yet, anyway. His boots scraped against the cold floor as he followed the guard through the dim corridors, passing faces he no longer bothered to remember.

In the visiting room, a single man sat at the far end, hands folded neatly in front of him. He was young, but the way he carried himself made him seem older—like something gnawed away at him from the inside out. His clothes were modest and neat. The kind you wouldn’t glance twice at on the street. Michael slid into the chair opposite him, the wood groaning faintly under his weight. The stranger lifted his head, pale eyes meeting Michael’s without much urgency.

“You’re the visitor?” Michael asked, one brow lifting.

The man simply nodded. No name. No pleasantries.

There was a long pause, just the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Michael drummed his fingers against the table, impatient. “Well?”

The man spoke, his voice low, almost bored. “Your wife made arrangements. She’s paid well.”

Michael leaned forward slightly. “Arrangements for what?”

“To take care of Thomas Shelby.”

The words hung heavy between them. Michael’s jaw tightened.

“No”

The visitor tilted his head, studying him the way one might study a flickering candle, wondering how long it would last.

Michael’s voice was steady. “I kill Thomas Shelby myself. But Arthur goes first.”

The man said nothing, only tapping a finger lightly against the edge of the table. As if he had heard the same thing a hundred times before. Michael went on, voice hardening, “Arthur’s a rabid dog. If I don’t put him down first, he’ll come straight for me. It has to be him first. Then Tommy.”

At last, the man gave a small nod. “As you wish, Mr Gray” he said easily, like the outcome was none of his concern. He stood, smoothing the front of his coat, preparing to leave. But just before he turned away, he glanced back over his shoulder.

“I hope you don’t regret your choices,” he said softly. Then he was gone, slipping from the room with the same soundless efficiency he had arrived with, leaving Michael sitting alone beneath the flickering overhead light, feeling—for the first time in a long time—very, very cold.

[queenshelby]

AMERICAN GIRL (PART FIVE)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo

When you made your way to your bedroom, you were surprised to see Emma, pretending to sleep in your bed. It was a clear statement – she wanted you to stay with her that night and you wondered whether she had a nightmare again.

"Sshh, it's alright," you whispered to her as  you sat down on the edge of the bed, gently stroking her hair. She didn't respond at first but gradually shifted closer to you, nuzzling her head on your shoulder.

"Why did he kiss you?" she  asked softly, curiosity tinting her voice.

"He shouldn't have," you admitted. "And honestly, I shouldn't be talking about this with you. You should be fast asleep, sweetheart."

Her grip tightened on your hand. "I am sorry I spied on you. I just heard the car pull up and hoped that it was you coming home," Emma  confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's alright, Em," you replied while still comforting her. 

"Do you like him?"  She asked the question hesitantly, as if she were unsure she wanted to know the answer.

Leaning down, I placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I actually think I might, but you can't tell Grace about it, okay?" you told Emma and she nodded obediently, hugging you tightly. 

You continued to run your fingers through Emma's hair, her breathing becoming deep and regular as sleep overtook her. Lulled by her slumbering figure, you let your thoughts drift, lingering on the curve of Thomas's smile and the way your heartbeat quickened with merely his presence.

You indeed wondered why had kissed you and whether it meant anything to him. There were many questions now that were clogging your mind, and you knew that there was no possible way that you could go to sleep like this. You had to know  – you had to find out the real reason behind Thomas's kiss. Had it been mere curiosity? Or perhaps, it was his impulsive side, leading him to act on his emotions?

You carefully disentangled yourself from Emma, who nestled deeper into her blankets, her soft snores reassuring you she wouldn't wake up anytime soon. You took one last look at her cherub face before stepping out of the room, gently closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, the oak floorboards creaked beneath your weight, guiding your path as you traversed the long winding corridors of the Shelby Residence. 

Arriving at the top of the grand staircase, you paused, basking in the stillness that enveloped the mansion. Every step you took echoed the turmoil brewing within you. The unknown left you both excited and anxious but unable to resist the temptation of discovery.

As expected, you saw some light coming from Tommy's office, and you found yourself drawn to it almost magnetically. Knocking  softly on the door, you entered only to find Thomas, all on his own, deep in thought, and absorbed by some official documents.

"You're still up," you murmured, your voice barely registering in the grand space.

Thomas looked up, his features softening at the sight of you. He closed the folder, his eyes not leaving yours, as he leaned back in his leather chair. "I am, but not for much longer." He smiled, his gaze sweeping over your figure in a quick, almost imperceptible manner.

It was a subtle gesture; however, it triggered goosebumps to spread across your skin.

"Come in," he offered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the mahogany desk. Thomas's eyes were vivid pools of curiosity; there was a certain intrigue brimming within him, and you were both the question and the answer to his restless night.

You hesitated for only a fleeting moment before moving further into the office. Its atmosphere was ripe with the scent of aged oak and the musky aroma of leather-bound books.

"Why did you kiss me?" you asked the question that had been weighing on your mind, the words falling lightly between you.

Thomas studied you for a moment, his eyes deep with unspoken reflections. "Impulse," he murmured at last, the single syllable carrying an emotional weight that seemed to defy explanation. He didn’t offer anything more, leaving you somewhat puzzled, and yet somehow, satisfied.

"I see," you replied quietly, your voice steady and measured as the silence lengthened between you. "So it was a mistake then?"  you asked, your voice barely wavering despite the disquiet building deep inside of you. Thomas stared at you for a moment, carefully weighing his next words. His eyes held a magnetic pull, his commanding presence making your heart race uncontrollably.

"Yes," he admitted quietly, drowning you both in an extended and deafening silence. The word hung in the air, a shocking revelation - an unwelcome truth. 

"Alright then," you murmured softly, masking your inner turmoil. You mustered a smile that failed to reach the depth of your eyes. "Have a good night, Tommy," you managed to say, swallowing down the bitterness.

Your voice sounded detached, as if it belonged to someone else entirely. You tried to pry your gaze away from his, but the pull towards Thomas was simply too strong to break free from him so easily.

Eventually though, you succeeded and you knew that, tomorrow was going to be another day.

You gently pushed the office door open, making no attempt to obscure the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you reentered the vast but comforting presence of the hallway. The dimmed glow of sconces adorning the walls guided your steps back to the sanctuary of your bedroom.

Returning to your bedchamber, you observed that this time around Emma lay undisturbed, wrapped in the soothing embrace of her dreams. As you undressed and slipped beneath the sheets, a myriad of unanswered questions whirled through your mind like an impenetrable fog.

With every attempt to make sense of the mysterious tension between you and Thomas, your thoughts became increasingly frayed and jumbled but, as the early morning light began to dance through the drapes, you finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. 

You awoke late, almost forgetting about your shift at the store. Quickly dressing, you hurried downstairs to save yourself from being late, skipping breakfast in the process.

Rushing out the door, you took a deep breath, prepared for another day of drudgery away from the Shelby residence but just as you looked around, you realised that there was no one to drive you.

Thus, you decided to take the car on the far left before driving off yourself to the town. The driveway seemed endless and unendingly twisted, but it served to prepare your mind for the day ahead. Fortunately, you managed to reach the parking lot of the Birmingham store where you worked with five minutes to spare.

As you entered the shop, you were somewhat surprised to see three bunches of flowers and a box of chocolates neatly arranged beside your station, catching your eye and not long after that, Ada came stumbling past.

"It looks like you made quite an impression last night at the Garrison,"  she teased, needling you with a pinch of friendly envy.

You blushed profusely as you took in the gifts before you with newfound surprise. 

"I suppose I did," you managed in response, trying to put on a nonchalant facade as you read through the notes and requests for dates from four different suitors.  You'd never had such attention from the opposite gender, and the sudden popularity made your heart race in excitement while also triggering an underlying shiver of anxiety.

"Of course, you did," Ada said wryly. "You're a Shelby now, remember? The perfect blend of grace and grit. No wonder they couldn't get enough."

Lost in the sea of compliments and secret longing, you barely noticed the day fly by and, just as the clock struck three, Tommy came walking into the store with his brothers Finn and Arthur.

"What is the go with all these fucking flowers?" Arthur  grumbled, eyeing the sea of red roses and delicate lilies surrounding you. You couldn't suppress your blush, shifting nervously as his gaze slid from the bouquets to you, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Tommy, however, remained silent as he took in the scene before him, his icy blue eyes scrutinizing every minute detail with a shrewd precision that made your skin prickle with awareness.

"These flowers were delivered here for Y/N, by several potential suitors I believe. So Finn, you really need to pick up your game if you want to catch her eye," Ada teased, causing Finn to blush.

"Uhm, right," he stammered before actually attempting to ask you out on a date while Tommy  studied you the entire time, an almost inscrutable look on his face. "Would you, perhaps, consider going out with me? I could take you somewhere nice," Finn  suggested, his voice wavering slightly as he offered you an awkward smile.

You eyed him kindly, understanding his discomfort. "Sure, I would love to," you replied softly. "Perhaps next week we could see a movie together," you offered, causing Tommy to gaze at you with a mixture of curiosity and perhaps a hint of irritation. Your attention was split between the unexpected date you just agreed to and the man who held your heart hostage, causing you  to feel dizzy and at his mercy.

"Finn is no fucking match for you Y/N. He is just a child playing games," Thomas finally interjected after both his brothers had left the store, waiting for him outside, smoking.

His tone was sharp; the edge of his words sliced through the air, ripe with unspoken accusations and concealed turmoil.

"Nonetheless, it is her decision, Tommy," Ada countered on your behalf, not understanding that, perhaps, her older brother was jealous . His mind spun with unsettling thoughts, feelings he couldn't quite understand. The jealousy he harbored towards Finn and every other potential suitor who did as little as just glance at you, left him infuriated.

"It is, but we don't want her to break Finn's fucking heart, eh"  Thomas retorted, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"And I have no attention of breaking anyone's heart," you replied defensively, the tone of your voice hinting at the frustration growing within you.

"Well then enjoy your date at the pictures, Y/N," Tommy said sarcastically, taking another drag of his cigarette to mask the awkwardness that hung in the air.

Unwilling to prolong the conversation, you began tidying the flowers and organizing them in a vase. Your actions, however, couldn't quell the burning curiosity that consumed you. The questions plaguing your mind swirled like a whirlpool, threatening to drown you in its enigmatic depths.

Why did Thomas care about what you did with your personal life? Furthermore, had his kiss meant something to him after all? Was it merely an impulse, as he had claimed? Or was there something deeper and unspoken that even he wasn't ready to confront just yet?

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[imaginesforeveryone]

Arranged (Part 1)

Pairing: Finn Shelby x Y/N Warnings: Swearing, slight angst, drinking, some racist comments summary: You were the youngest child of you fathers, being part of a mob family in the heart of New York, your family had many enemies in the city, and even further away, and your life was about to change after a Peaky Boy barged into your life.

Finn’s POV

“Finn! get a move on it. We have to be at the church in 30 minutes!” Finn heard his Aunt Pol yell from the hotel door. This was the day that he so much dreaded. The day where his big brother married him away to a family that he needed to become alliance with. He had no idea who his bride was. He had no clue what she looked like. All he knew is that she is a Gotti. One of the most notorious mob families in New York. He finished up getting ready, grabbing his suit jacket and pushing past his Aunt Pol. 

“Hey.” Pol said following behind him. 

“Finn. I’m speaking to you.” She said grabbing his arm. 

“What aunt Pol?” He said turning towards her with a whole bunch of sassy. 

“I’m going to need you to tone down that sass with me boy.” Pol said looking up at him with daggers. 

“Sorry Aunt Pol.” He said breathing out a deep breath. 

“What is wrong child?” She asked. 

“Pol. Im being married off to a fucking wop for one and for two its the fucking Gotti’s. I also have no clue who this women is. So excuse me for being nervous.” He spoke before turning to keep walking. 

“Finn, you had to know the day would be coming that you would be married off to someone. You’re a fucking gypsy for christ sakes. It only comes with time.” Pol said following next to him. 

“Yeah, Pol I get it.” He said not arguing with her anymore because there was no point. 

“You never know she could be the most beautiful women you laid your eyes on. Don’t be a little sissy. You’re a Shelby, and us Shelby’s can make anything work.” She spoke pinching his cheek before getting on the elevator.

Y/N POV

“Suck it in.” The maid that was behind you holding the strings of your corset to began pulling it tight on you. As she did so, you had to catch your breathe quickly. 

“Fuck Amy. ” You breathed out to her. 

“Beauty is pain love, I’m sorry.” She said as she did up the corset. Women stood all around you making your hair perfect, and making sure your make up was on perfectly. It was just about time to get your dress on, but you mother wasn’t there yet. Starting to freak out a bit, you paced around the room in just your corset, heels, panties, stocking, and a garter. 

“Love calm down. It will be okay.” You heard the soothing sound of your mothers voice behind you. You smiled turning around and giving her a huge hug. 

“I’m going to miss you.” You whispered to her trying not to cry so you didn’t mess up your make up. 

“I’ll see you, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Now let’s not mess up this beautiful masterpiece with tears and smoothering.” She said taking a step back looking at your hair and make up. 

“Now come.” She said walking towards the big windows that overlooked New York City, and where your dress hung. It was nothing too crazy, simply white, silk, with small beading on the side to complement your already existing curves. You stood as your mother opened the dress so you could step into it. Shimmying it up your body and it laying so perfect upon every part of you, with an open back showing off the family crest tattoo you had directly on the top of you neck. She grabbed your veil that fell way longer than your dress, but brought the whole thing together. 

“Mom.” You almost whispered. 

“Yes darling.” She said as she fluffed out the veil to see how it will look when you walked down the aisle. 

“I’m marrying a Peaky boy right?” You asked her. 

“Yes darling.” She said little chocked up. 

“Will I be safe?” You asked. She took a few steps to round to the front of you. 

“You will be more than safe with them. As much as I’d love for you to stay in New York, sadly thats not how this arrangement works. But, they have agreed for us to come to England to visit you, and for you and your husband to travel here. This day is a cause for a big alliance in our families history.” She said gently caressing your face. You smiled at her. 

“What if he’s ugly?” You asked with a slight giggle. 

“I don’t think a Shelby boy can be ugly love. Its just not in their genes. But hey, it might be your luck.” She said with a pinch of your cheek and a giggle. 

“Alright, lets getting going.” She said rounding behind you to pick up your veil and follow you down the stairs of the church, to meet your father, who stood behind a closed door that you would enter in moments time to your new life. New husband. New family. 

“Hi, Daddy.” You said from behind him and holding your bouquet in your hands. 

“Oh, la mia bellissima figlia.” He spoked with a slight tear in his eyes. Which was weird for you to see because he was the most feared man in New York. 

“Come on love, let’s get your out there.” He said pulling your veil of your face.

“Don’t let me fall daddy.” You spoke quietly.

“Never, neonata.” He said with a smirk. As the piano sounded, and the doors began to open slowly, your stomach became in knots.

wow, that’s a long walk

You thought to yourself looking down the aisle. Everyone stood up around you, as you got closer you could see the face of the man you were about to marry. Definitely not ugly, definitely looks so innocent. Him being a Shelby it came to a surprise to you. 

Finn’s POV

“Arthur fuck off.” He spoke to his best man, who stood next to him at the alter trying to make him more nervous than he already was. 

“I’m just messing little brother. But really what if she’s ugly. What if she has big man feet that could trample you over.” Arthur whispered to him. He looked over at Thomas who sat the closest to the aisle and closest to the alter. 

“Look at all these fucking wops man. We waited long enough once, now look at us, waiting again. Full circle aye?” Arthur said nudging him to help calm him. 

“You’ll be fine brother. It will be great.” He spoke out once more. 

“Arthur shut up.” Finn heard Thomas say as he bent over the railing that separated them from the aisle. As he sat down Finn heard the piano begin, and everyone rise. He fixed his tie a bit, and the single flower that was pinned to his tux jacket, and making sure his hair was slicked back perfectly. Watching as the doors slowly opened, and seeing a very tall Italian man, arm in arm with a very short, women who had a veil covering her face. Clearing his throat he watched as she moved down the aisle. As she neared the end, her father lifts the veil and gave a kiss on either side of her face. Which he was in awe about. Looking over at Arthur for confirmation as to what he thought. He gave confirming face to him. 

Y/N POV

Finally walked down the whole length of the aisle, feeling like it just took you 20 minutes to do so. Your dad lifted your veil and kissed both cheeks before taking your hand and the man taking a step down off the two stairs you had to get up and putting his hand out to help you up. Causing a small smile to spread across your face, and also one spreading across his freckled cheeks. Hand in hand you looked at each other as the priest read from the Bible and having you say the words to the man that stood in front of you. 

“Do you Finn Shelby, take Y/N Gotti, to be wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health?” He asked looking over at Finn. 

“I do.” He said as he slipped the most beautiful ring on your small finger. 

“Do you Y/N Gotti, take Finn Shelby to be you husband to have and to hold, in sickness and in health?” The priest asked motioning to you. 

“I do.” You said with a smile and taking Finn’s hand in yours and sliding the gold band around his thick finger and taking his hands into yours. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” He said as he closed the Bible and stepped back. You smirked up at him as he towered over you to lean down and kiss you. The whole place erupted. More from his side then yours, but that’s okay. As you kissed him, it felt, right? He was soft, not what you expected of a Shelby boy. Pulling away from you he smiled and took your hand in his leading you down the aisle once more as everyone threw bird seed at the two of you. You giggled and finally making it out and into the car that sat waiting for the newlyweds to enter the car.

I think this might work. You thought to your self as you look at Finn.

[thepeakygirl]

My darling girl is still living rent free in the minds of those who love her and those who hate her too I see. That’s my girl 😌

[onydung]

You Look Good in Red

Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Summery : Your thought of Arthur in red as his wife

Note : This is a quick one and has not been proofread yet. Also dont mind the picture, there is no gorey scene, its quite wholesome?

Masterlist

GRAMMAR BAD, DON’T EAT ME!

You’ve always been a good wife to Arthur, at least that's what the family says. You were never nosy and always doing your wifely duties on the sidelines without much complaining. Sometimes outsiders would gossip amongst each other saying how much you don’t really fit in with the Shelbys or that the family trapped you into the marriage that you probably don’t want. 

In truth though, you were deeply in love with your husband. The romance you have with him was not really apparent, when he was first courting you he wrote poems and drew doodles to give to you whenever he bought bread at the bakery you used to work at and you would respond with a poem of your own and a sweet kiss before he went. The look he gave you afterwards was enough to give you the energy to deal with your shift the whole day. It’s not something outsiders or even his closest brothers would think of when guessing how you two end up together so it's always fun to see their reactions when you tell them. 

There is a disconnect with the Arthur strutting down the street and the Arthur you see in your shared bedroom but they are both sides of Arthur that you charised deeply. Countless times he would come home bloody, you would tend to him despite the stinging smell of iron, gently cleaning the crimson red blood off his face and countless times you can’t help but admire how the red blood in contrast to his fair freckled skin would make him more handsome in your eyes. You’ve never really said it outloud, knowing how much he hated being reminded of the things he did but you would always kiss him afterwards to remind you that you love him. If other people had the right to be afraid of him then you have the right to be in love with him too. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dressing up is the one of the privileges you have as a Shelby. Every party you attend you would have on your clothes each more luxurious next. Arthur would say it’s his way of rewarding you for always putting up with him which would return with a giggle and smile. You know that deep down this is also a reward for him too. He would touch you tenderly, feeling the softness of your blue silk gown, or mapping the rough intricate detail of the lace. He never would have said anything about it and dismissed that he even had any preference to begin with but you can tell he does by the twinkle in eyes, or how scrunched up his face would be. You get the feeling that it's more than just admiration you would see in other couples, there is a sense of envy and longing for something but you never really find out what it is or ask him what it was. 

“That new lipstick love?” 

It’s midnight after another party and you wore a new color lipstick, crimson red, as supposed to your regular coral one and it’s the first time Arthur has seen you in it. 

“Yes, I ran out of my regular one, so I bought a new one” you replied walking to the vanity where you saw your husband sitting on the queen size bed in only his trousers mirrored to you. His eyes look tired, half drunk, bore into you before he stood up to join you in front of the vanity. 

“It looks good on you love” he said before reaching down to gently guide you to face him before kissing your soft lips. You can hear the sound of his heartbeat with the sway of the wind, enjoying his thin lips as his mustache tickles your nose. You deepen the kiss for a little while longer before separating to meet his blue eyes before realizing the lipstick has transferred to his lips. 

“Oh the lipstick it transferred to you” you rush to try to find something to wipe it with only to find him looking at the mirror of the vanity with the same look you had seen but never understand until this moment. It’s the same look you’ve seen him make when drawing all those years ago before dropping the hobby to help his family; the same look you’ve seen him make admiring flowers when his brothers aren’t around; and the same look you see him look at you at the party across the room. 

You approach him again, slowly wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your chin on his tense shoulders. 

“You look good in red, Art” you say as you can feel his shoulders loosen and his body slightly lean back at you. 

“I think so too”  

[novashelby]

"Never Forget to Write": Tommy Shelby x Reader Drabble

“Never forget to write,” he said. Both of their backs pressed against the dewy grass. It was a field somewhere out there where neither of them knew. He just took her hand and wandered them until both of their feet got tired. “Even if I don’t reply or I’m-”

“Tommy Shelby,” she whispered, turning on her side. She rested her head on her folded hands. “Sometimes you think so grey. Don’t say those things-”

“But it’s true.” He smiled, his thumb playing with her bottom lip. “Write me, always. And don’t ever forget me. I don’t want to come back and find that you’ve shacked up with some other.”

“Who other?” she teased. “You’re all going off to war!”

The silent air broke with a laugh. A laugh that wouldn’t last long for much longer for Tommy Shelby. Just a young man not aware of time spilling. The Tommy Shelby that laid on that field a boy, would never return to England anything, but a new man. A new man that’d be unrecognizable to the girl who rested beside him. “Yeah, I guess I am, huh? Off to war….”

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, K @runnning-outof-time! You already know that you are one of my greatest friends here. You are one of the sweetest, kindest, loveliest people around. You always make time to read my work and leave thoughtful comments. I appreciate it so much. I hope you enjoy my token of appreciation. I know how much you liked my other war!Tommy one shot, and so I used that as inspo to write this for you.

Divider: @strangergraphics

[warnersister]

Intoxicating Toxicity

Song Based Headcannon

Michael Gray x Reader

The room was a mess. Valuables thrown; wallpaper torn; feelings hurt. You and Michael were silent for a moment, voices sore from the incessant screaming you did at one another. Constantly arguing, constantly on the same page but one of you has the book upside down. This time you were bickering because you were having a conversation with a young man at the races who was arguably charming. You had to converse with him as it was your job to be hospitable and make as much money as possible but Michael sees red every time another male breathes your air.

“Don’t make me get violent.” He spoke quietly, voice an eerie kind of gentle. “I’ll kill any man that fucking looks at you. Dares to see your beauty.” You clenched your jaw. “It’s my job, Michael. I can’t just ignore clients-” “well you know my views on you working. If I had it my way you’d be in this house all day; every day. Where I know you’re safe.” He exhaled smoothly. “That’s an old fashioned view now, Michael. I want to offer something too.” You reply, similar tone to your own voice. “You don’t need to. I’ll pay for anything. Everything. And if you disagree then I want my ring back because baby, that’s a diamond.”

You looked at your ring finger then back to Michael. “You don’t listen anyways-” you began “I’ll be quiet, then.” He cut you off. “I don’t really feel like fighting.” You say, sighing gently. There was silence for a moment in which you looked off absentmindedly; and in that time Michael studied your facial features appreciatively - seeing the cogs in your head turning as you thought independently. “I’ll quit.” You said quietly, looking back to your fiancée expectantly.

His eyes lit up as his body relaxed hearing the words he’d be wishing you’d say for years now. “I’ll give my notice tomorrow, two more weeks and I’m yours.” You continue. “And I’ll stay here and I’ll stay safe and I’ll go places with you because God knows nothing feels safe without a blinder.” Your chest rises and falls.

Michael approaches you slowly, grasping your face in between his hands before kissing you softly. “Thank you. And I’ll spend less time with Tommy, more with you. We’ll plan our wedding and get married. We’ll have ten kids and move to the country. I’ll be all yours if you’re all mine.” He leant his forehead against yours.

“Ten kids? I don’t think I can do that many.” You chuckle softly. “I’ll fuck you until I can’t.” And he kissed you again.

This was in no way your first nor last argument but this life was yours and so was Michael. And this is the way it will be.

[ljz002-world]

Big Man

The dim lights of The Garrison flickered, casting soft shadows across the rustic wooden tables. The familiar smell of whiskey filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Michael Gray, wearing his crisp tailored suit, sat nervously at a corner table, his fingers tapping anxiously against the polished wood. He glanced at his watch for the third time that evening, his heart racing—not from excitement, but from uncertainty.

Life had changed drastically for Michael since his return to Birmingham. But tonight, he was here on a date—a date with a man, a muscular bartender he’d met during one of his visits to a London pub.

The man named Y/N was larger than life, with arms that seemed to stretch endlessly and a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the pub. He had a presence that was magnetic, drawing people in and making them feel at ease. But for Michael, this date brought forth a whirlwind of emotions. Growing up in a traditional setting made him unsure of this whole idea of dating a man, that and the tumultuous world of the Peaky Blinders, he was accustomed to the viciousness and unpredictability of life. Maybe that's how he tried to calm his conciousness about the date. Life had many doors, and goig out with a man was just one of many. But still, now, he was faced with a different kind of unpredictability—personal feelings he simply didn’t know how to navigate.

As the clock struck eight, the door swung open, and there stood Y/N, casually dressed but radiating an infectious energy. His shaggy hair framed his face beautifully, and the moment his gaze landed on Michael, an easy grin spread across his features.

“Evening, sorry I’m late! Got caught up at work,” Y/N said, sliding into the seat across from Michael. “You wouldn’t believe the number of drinks I had to shake up tonight.”

There was a glimmer of laughter in his eyes, and despite himself, Michael found a small smile forming on his lips. “It’s alright,” he replied, feeling a mixture of warmth and nervousness wash over him. “I wasn’t waiting too long.”

“Good,” the bartender from London said, leaning slightly forward, his confidence commanding the moment. “So, what do you want to talk about? I hear you have a knack for numbers—financials and all that. Completely lost me.”

Michael chuckled, feeling the tension beginning to ease. “I suppose I do. But it’s not as interesting as people think. My real passion is...” He paused, hesitating as the words caught in his throat. “Family business, I guess. The Peaky Blinders.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, so you're a part of that infamous gang? Must be quite the life.”

This was where doubt began to creep back in. Most people back home either idolized the family or feared them, and Michael was never sure how someone outside that world would react. He found himself silently questioning if this was the right path, if this date was something he should even be pursuing.

“I wouldn’t say ‘infamous’ is a good word for it,” Michael said carefully. “It comes with its challenges, more than I care to admit. But it’s home.” He was surprised at how easily he let that slip.

Y/N nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. “Home is important. But you’re more than just your last name, right?” He leaned back slightly, giving Michael space to breathe.

A few beats passed, and in the warmth of the moment, Michael felt his resolve beginning to falter. Perhaps the muscular man across from him saw him for who he truly was, not just the shadows of his lineage. “Yeah,” he finally said, “I guess I try to be.”

The big man smiled, and the warmth in his eyes sent shivers down Michael’s spine. They began exchanging stories—about work, life, dreams. Moments of laughter punctuated their conversation, washing away the last vestiges of Michael’s apprehension.

As the night wore on, Michael found himself more relaxed, intrigued by Y/N's insights and wit. They shared their hopes and fears, their ambitions and disappointments, as the whisky and camaraderie flowed. The world outside faded, leaving just the two of them in their cocoon of newfound connection.

By the time last call echoed through the pub, Michael discarded his reservations. Y/N's laughter heartened him like a cherished melody, beckoning him to step beyond his fears. Maybe this was where he belonged, at least for tonight—among laughter and shared dreams, forging connections that seemed almost unimaginable just hours before.

As they stepped out into the crisp Birmingham night, Michael looked at the other man, hoping the moment would linger. “So, do you want to do this again?”

Y/N puffed a teasing breath through his lips, his voice low and excited, “Only if you promise to tell me more about these Peaky Blinders.”

Michael laughed, a genuine sound that felt refreshing. “Deal.”

And as they walked side by side under the moonlit sky, Michael Gray couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of something profoundly transformative—both for him and for the man who had unwittingly drawn him out of his shell. Anything seemed possible now.

[cinnamongirlblogs]

happy late st paddy’s day cillian Murphy

I can be his good luck charm

[gt-icons]

Gina Gray “Peaky Blinders” icons

‒ like or reblog if you save

[rei-is-still-here]

Finding Delilah (Part 3)

Summary: Delilah recalls her childhood best friend—Malcolm. The soft spoken boy and the boy with gentlest hands.

A/n: In this story, Finn does not exist.

<Part 2

Part 4>

Content includes: Abuse

1917

The streets of Small Heath were busy as usual. Factory workers carrying heavy crates and men yelling instructions at each other from across the road. It was an ordinary day for the people of Small Heath and for Delilah as well. She was walking around mindlessly, looking for someone or something to play with. To pass the time.

Fortunately for Delilah, her boredom would soon come to an end, because she could see the familiar back silhouette of an 11 year old boy with dirty blonde hair just one factory away from her.

“Malcolm!” she hollered.

Malcolm flinched, his shoulders tensed, and turned his head back at the sound of her voice. He squinted his eyes to see just who it was that was hollering at him, in the middle of the day, in these streets. When his vision began clearing up, he could see 9 year old Delilah excitedly waving both her arms at him, her brown hair bouncing as she jumped and lifted her arms, thinking that he couldn’t see her. Malcolm pursed his lips and gave her a quick nod and a small wave to let her know that he saw her.

“Malcolm! Come over here!” she yelled with her hands closed together in the shape of an “O”—forming a makeshift speaker.

Malcolm flinched again. He was not expecting Delilah to have such loudness and bass in her voice for such a small girl. He was even more surprised that no one around seemed to mind. As if this wasn’t the first time Delilah was screaming and yelling at 8am. He made his way down to where she was, and when he was finally face to face with her she could see his blue eyes shimmer in the sunlight again.

“Hi Delilah, what are you up to so early?”

“I could ask the same for you,” she replied with her arms akimbo.

He closed his eyes and gave out an exasperated smile.

“I was just walking around, no one’s home today so I figured I’d go for a stroll, you know?”

Delilah’s eyes widened with excitement. “Well coincidentally…I too have nothing to do! So why don’t you play with me?”

Malcolm scratched the back of his neck and his face seemed visibly nervous and scattered with uncertainty. “Umm…Papa says I’m not to go around with people I don’t know”.

Delilah held his hands, “But you know me Malcolm. You know my name and so does Ada and Aunt Pol. So you are very well known sir”

He didn’t answer immediately, his mouth slighthed parted. Maybe a little taken aback and amazed by her confidence. She leaned in, her face scrunching into a pleading pout. Big brown eyes—her most persuasive weapon.

Malcolm sighed quietly, barely audible, and nodded. “Alright. Just for a little while.”

Delilah squealed and pulled his arm, leading him to the back of Saint Judes Church. He gasped and released a breathy laugh as he tried to catch up with her speed. “Slow down, Delilah”.

—

They wound up under the Oak tree that had flowers of all kinds scattered across the overgrown grass. “This is my favourite place. Polly usually prays inside and I stay out here when she takes too long”

They sank into the grass, shaded by the wide canopy. The air was drowsy with pollen, and the quiet was thick enough to settle into their skin. Malcolm folded his legs neatly, his posture rigid despite the relaxed setting. His coat, clearly borrowed or handed down, hung off his thin frame, and the sleeves swallowed his hands and he wore a flat cap too big for his head. Around his neck hung a tiny wooden cross, and he clutched it like a secret.

“Why do you always hold that cross of yours?” She asked curiously.

Malcolm looked down at his cross and squeezed it softly again. “It belonged to my older brother Nolan. He died in the war”.

Delilah sat up, looking at him with guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry Malcolm”.

Malcolm turned to look at her and shook his head once, “Don’t be sorry Delilah. Papa says that he was brave and died a good man. I believe him. My big brother Nolan was the best”.

Delilah balanced her head on her knees and closed her eyes, “My brothers are fighting in the war as well. Tommy, Arthur, and John. So I really don’t know what I’d do if any one of them dies”.

“Do you miss them?” he asked curiously.

“I miss them a lot”

—

After a while, they decided to go play by the riverside. They tossed stones and attempted to balance on the slippery stones. Malcolm had his pants cuffed all the way up to his thighs. They were enjoying themselves when Delilah asked about his family abruptly.

“Me, Papa, and Nolan moved here not too long ago. Papa found work” he answered.

“What does he do?”

Malcolm paused to think of a proper response. After a few seconds of thinking he shrugs, “I’m not really sure what he does, All I know is that he helps around with the Church—crates, cleaning, fixing. All kinds of stuff for the church really”.

He stopped in between hops, “What about your old man?” he asks as he tries to balance on the stone but then fails, falling in the water causing a big splash to wet her checkered skirt.

“Well, my dad isn’t usually home. He disappears for a long period of time and then randomly shows up again days or weeks later”.

“That’s strange”

“I know…what about your mother?”

“She passed away two years ago, when I was nine. She was awfully sick” Malcolm replied, throwing a stone. “She looked like you”. Delilah blinked for a moment before responding, “My mother passed away too. Aunt Pol takes care of me and Ada”

“Ada?, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before”

“She’s my older sister. She’s the prettiest girl in Birmingham, I want to be just like her one day”

Malcolm plucked a wildflower from near the riverbank and tucked it into her hair. “You don’t need to be like her. You’re already pretty like Delilah” he said with the softest smile.

Delilah’s cheeks flushed and she giggled, lunging at him in a burst of joy. They both tumbled back into the grass, laughing, breathless. Malcolm placed his hands so gently on her back. The moment was soft, light—suspended in a kind of joy that only children know.

Their enjoyment came to an abrupt halt when a loud baritone voice tore through the air.

“Malcolm!”

Delilah figured that it was most definitely his father. She immediately pulled him behind a nearby bush. She hadn’t even managed to see his face. She didn’t want to. It wouldn’t be the first time she saw a man who was angry. “I’m sorry, you stay here,” he whispered, panic touching his voice. He cupped her face with both hands, his thumb brushing her cheek like it was the last time he would see her.

“I have to go”

And then he was up, darting toward the voice. The wooden cross bounced against his chest as he ran, disappearing around the corner.

Delilah sat where he left her, the flower slipping from her hair into the grass, her small hands curling into the earth.

—

The next day, at the same spot beneath the old oak behind the church, Delilah saw Malcolm again. He walked slowly toward her, his steps small and careful. When he got close, she noticed faint red marks on his arms, like he had been swatted hard.

“Did that happen because of yesterday?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling. He shook his head. “No. I talked back to Papa. That’s all.”

Delilah’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”

Malcolm reached out and gently held her face. “It’s not your fault. It could never be.”

But as the days passed and they continued to meet, Delilah saw the bruises begin to darken. The marks multiplied—on his arms, his back, sometimes even his cheek. Polly, without question, helped apply ointment to his skin when she found them when they would go to her house to play. Delilah didn’t ask how Polly knew. Polly always seemed to know.

One day, while they sat beneath the oak tree, she caught sight of an angry welt on his back as his shirt shifted upward when he reached for a branch.

“Malcolm,” she gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

He froze.

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked away, silent. Delilah’s eyes welled. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I can’t do anything to help,” she whispered. “I wish I could, I’m so sorry Malcolm.” He hugged her back, “You would never hurt me, Delilah. And I would never hurt you.”

She pulled back just far enough to kiss his cheek, in hopes that it would comfort him, even if she was the one crying. He looked startled, then leaned in and kissed hers in return, wiping away her tears with rough calloused fingers.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “I’ll be alright.”

His voice trembled. “You make things better, Delilah. You make this life bearable for me. You’re not the reason I get hurt. Please don’t ever think that.”

But one day, when Delilah went to look for him in the streets, she couldn’t find him.

She searched every corner of Small Heath. Asked around the church. Looked for his father. Nothing. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.

Finally, during one of her visits to the chapel, one of the nuns took her hand and said gently, “You won’t find him, dear. He’s gone back to his hometown.”

Delilah’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

To her young mind, it could only mean one thing— it was her fault. He was gone because of her. He had to leave because she made things worse and that he would never come back because of her. And that belief never left her.

Every day since, she thought of Malcolm. Wondered if he was okay. Wished, desperately, to find him curled beneath the oak tree once more, sleeping peacefully as if nothing had ever hurt him.

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 19)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

For a fleeting moment, Tommy appeared defeated, having never expected such revelations tonight. However, regaining control swiftly, he leaned against the wall menacingly.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me sooner, eh?" Tommy roared furiously struggling to contain his anger. Sweat trickled down his forehead, making him shiver involuntarily as his mind raced through various scenarios regarding his future interaction with you and his son. 

"Because you abandoned me, Thomas! You said that you won't, but you did!" you shouted, exasperated and you could see Tommy visibly cringe upon hearing these harsh words, pain etched deeply across his features.

Inhaling sharply, Tommy turned abruptly, walking towards the window without saying anything further.

"No one can know that I am the father of your child, Y/N," he stated matter-of-factly after a brief silence, indicating his demand rather than asking for consent. "Do you understand?" he then ought to ask and you nodded. 

"I understand and I had no intention to involve you in his life until now that Polly told me about your plans for Boston," you said vehemently, standing your ground firmly. "Fucking opium, Tommy! I do not want to have any part in this business," you insisted, displaying your commitment to distancing yourself from this kind of life. 

"Do you seriously think that I would have put you in danger Y/N?" Tommy murmured softly, a pleading note laced in his question, searching your eyes earnestly before explaining the situation to you.

"Michael is taking on the opium business independently and I made sure that you are not going to be involved in these activities," Tommy explained before telling you "I still love you Y/N. I always will. And I will never put you into harm's way, I promise," Tommy declared solemnly, his tone heavy with conviction. "As much as you might hate me right now, I will always try to protect you," he told you and you looked at him, finally able to read genuine concern in his eyes - a stark contrast to the cold disregard you often witnessed.

For a split second, you considered letting go of your grudges and opening your heart once again to the man you used to love so passionately. But then, reality set in, reminding you why you chose this path and all the reasons why reconciling with Tommy wouldn't work.

Despite his claims, your trust remained broken, his promises unfulfilled. Even though you found solace in seeing him vulnerable and humanized, your resolve only strengthened as your pride refused to let you surrender to the emotional turmoil.

"I am glad, because my son means everything to me now and I need to be around for him so that he has a better life than me growing up," you replied coolly, turning away from him just as Tommy's maid, Frances, barged through the door.

"Mr Shelby, there has been an incident at the Midland Hotel," she informed urgently, her eyes wide with worry, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"There seems to be a fire," continued Frances cautiously, fear evident in her voice and, almost instantly, anxiety coursed through you as this was where your son was staying with your maid. 

"Oh my god. I need to go there, right now Tommy," you exclaimed, panicking as images of your baby flashed vividly in front of your eyes. Before Tommy could say anything, you hurried past him towards the door. 

"Wait, Y/N!" Tommy yelled but you ignored him, running frantically toward the exit. As you bolted through the house, you could hear Tommy calling your name repeatedly, ordering his staff to follow you and ensure your safety.

Tommy ran after you, following you to one of his Bentleys and helping you get inside. As he jumped into the driver seat himself, he glanced briefly at your flushed complexion and reassured you that everything would be fine.

"You don't fucking know that, Tommy. My son is there, with my maid, at the hotel. What if something happens to him?" you screamed, filled with dread and panic.

"You need to calm down Love. Panicking is not going to help you. Now focus, did anyone follow you from the docks when you arrived?" Tommy asked as, without hesitating, he pulled the vehicle onto a side street, speeding rapidly towards the hotel.

"No, no one has followed us," you replied uneasily while tightening your hold on the edge of the leather seats, anxiousness consuming you whole.

Tears brimmed silently in your eyes, ready to overflow at any moment. Gripping your hand, Tommy reached over and intertwined our fingers together in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of your stress.

All throughout the journey, his focus shifted between driving and checking on you, ensuring your comfort amidst the chaos unfolding outside.

Once arrived at the burning building, Tommy parked the car quickly and leapt out, heading towards the entrance. In the background, sirens grew steadily louder as more emergency vehicles approached.

"You cannot go in there Mr Shelby," a young policeman tried stopping Tommy, brandishing a stop sign in one hand. Despite his authority, Tommy forcefully pushed passed him, determined to find his son, dismissively ignoring the officer's protests.

You felt weak and helpless, your palms sweaty as you struggled to remain composed, clutching onto Tommy's arm for support.

As Tommy navigated through the crowd of concerned faces, pushing aside those who got in his way, a sense of relief washed over you as you saw your son being safely evacuated from the hotel along with your maid.

Your breath hitched audibly, the tension melting away like ice under sunlight.

Their clothes were singed and black smoke covered their skin, visible evidence of the horror they'd endured mere moments ago. Your instinct was to run to them immediately, but Tommy halted your movement, gently holding you back as, in the distance, he saw two men who appeared to be a thread. 

"Wait," he commanded sternly, holding you back as he watched the men closely before, with his other hand, unholstering his gun.

"Tommy, what's going on?" you demanded, steeling yourself as you squinted through the dense cloud of greyish smoke enveloping the area.

"The fire wasn't an accident..." Tommy muttered, observing the suspicious duo warily as they casually walked away from the chaotic scene. "And I think that you are the target," he then went on to say while keeping his cool.

"Me?" you asked, shocked. "But you said that I won't be in any danger with this new business deal taking place," you retorted accusingly, unable to conceal your alarm.

"It's not because of the new business venture. It's because of something Arthur got himself involved in while serving time earlier this year," Tommy explained, causing your chin to drop.

"My father went to jail? How did I not know about this?" you asked worryingly but Tommy simply told you not to worry too much about it before hushing you back into his vehicle discreetly.

"I need you to wait here for me while I clean up this mess. Promise me that you won't leave the car," Tommy ordered authoritatively, wanting to make certain that you would indeed wait for him instead of getting involved directly in potentially dangerous situations.

His commanding presence and intensity left little room for argumentation; you reluctantly agreed, feeling a mix of uncertainty and apprehension rising within you.

"Yes...but..." you began, causing Tommy to become impatient.

"Just fucking promise me Y/N! I will make sure your son...our son...is safe," Tommy finished off emphatically, locking gaze with yours to make sure you understood how serious the issue was.

Unnerved, you nodded fervently, promising to adhere to his directive.

Feeling guilty for placing you in such precarious circumstances, Tommy took another glance at you before giving you a gentle yet firm squeeze of your shoulder in reassurance. Then, turning away from you, he marched swiftly towards the hotel, disappearing into the thick clouds of grey smoke obscuring the entrance.

You watched intently, your entire frame quivering slightly in apprehension. After several tense minutes of waiting, Tommy reappeared beside your car window again, dusting the ash off his jacket which was also covered in blood. 

His intense demeanor didn't seem to waver, even in light of the terrifying events transpiring before your very eyes. 

"Where is my son?" you queried impatiently, your hands shaking nervously as you waited for an answer.   

"Moss is driving him and the maid to Arrow House as we speak. He is safe, but you and your family will need to stay with me until things settle down," Tommy responded grimly, attempting to console you as best he could in spite of the dire situation.

A wave of relief surged through you, temporarily calming your nerves. However, lingering concerns regarding your own safety persisted, forcing you to pose additional questions.

"What about the men? Will they not follow them?" you wondered aloud, wondering whether Arrow House was safe. 

"Not unless they rise form the dead," Tommy said before taking a seat in the driver's seat again. His tone was stoic and unfazed, leaving no doubt about his determination to put an end to these enemies and restore peace. 

"I made sure that message gets through to the man who sent them for you, and I will have my men guard the house to ensure your safety as well," he thus told you and, after that, an eerie silence descended upon you as Tommy drove off.

Unconsciously, you slipped your trembling hand into Tommy's, seeking warmth and security - a gesture that spoke volumes about your bond and affection for each other.

The atmosphere was sombre, tense – reminding you of the gravity of the situation and the danger this life brought with it and you knew that, for the sake of your son, things had to change.

For the first time since you met the Shelbys, you found yourself questioning whether you should continue down this path or try finding solace elsewhere. A life far away from any illegal activities perhaps but, this line of thought was interrupted by your arrival at Arrow House, which is where Moss greeted you out the front. 

Seeing your son's face caused tears well up in your eyes once more. Holding your arms open, you immediately took your baby into your arms, showering him with kisses and apologizing profusely for putting him in harm's way.

He was only six months old and still so innocent, but already experiencing terror like this, which pained you deeply as the responsibility you bore increased tenfold. The desire to provide a safer future for him intensified exponentially. All these emotions mixed together within you, creating an almost tangible weight within your heart.

"May I hold him?" Tommy asked cautiously, peeking around you at your precious boy while Moss took your maid inside. With tearful eyes, you looked over at him, nodded, and slowly handed over your cherished treasure to him.

Inhaling sharply, Tommy held the tiny infant against his chest, tenderly rocking him back and forth as if trying to absorb every last bit of fear and turmoil from the day's events. 

"What did you name him?" Tommy softly whispered, looking into the deep blue eyes of his son, whose eyebrows seemed perpetually furrowed in concentration. 

"I named him Edward," you informed him and Tommy smiled, feeling both love and admiration swell inside him as he cradled the small child in his strong arms. His gaze turned toward you, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow etched across his features. It was evident that the day's dramatic turn of events had taken its toll on him, too.

"He is perfect, isn't he?" Tommy remarked, gazing down at his son who was still nestled snugly in his arms. There was a quiet earnestness to his voice, and you couldn't help but feel moved by his sincerity. "Look at how peaceful he looks, in spite of all that happened tonight, eh" he went on to say and you couldn't agree more.

As you witnessed the tenderness with which Tommy handled the child, it became increasingly clear just how important family meant to him.

"He must be hungry. I should go inside and feed him," you offered hesitantly, making an effort to return to normalcy amidst the looming threats and escalating violence.

Without saying anything, Tommy gave you a subtle nod of approval, indicating that it was time for some respite and comfort. As you headed indoors, however, you noticed Tommy remaining outside, speaking to one of his associates. Curiosity piqued, you continued walking further into the house without interruption, passing through the grand entrance hall towards the dining room, still filled with guests.

Robert immediately acknowledged your presence, asking you what happened while Lizzie gave you a stern look and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

She knew that the child you held in your arms was Tommy's son but did not say anything, choosing to remain silent for now. Her jealousy simmered beneath the surface, and it wasn't until your father, Arthur, questioned whose child this was, that Lizzie spoke up. 

"That's your grandchild, I believe," she announced defiantly, drawing attention to everyone present. 

"My grandchild, eh? Who is the fucking father then?" Arthur demanded loudly, a hint of anger in his voice as he glared at you in disapproval.

"Just a man I met in Boston, who is not around anymore," you lied, not wanting to admit that Edward's father was no other than your very own uncle. 

Arthur scoffed at your explanation, muttering under his breath that there were never really any good men in the world anymore who were willing to take responsibility for their actions.

Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks redden as guilt crept into your conscience, knowing full well that you hadn't been entirely truthful. But you reasoned with yourself, telling yourself that lying about who the father was, served the greater good.

"Well then congratulations, Love. Welcome to fucking motherhood," Lizzie commented bitterly, unable to hide her disdain. 

Despite her animosity, you ignored her, focusing on the task at hand: ensuring your son's needs were met, especially during such tumultuous times.

"Thank you, Lizzie," you thus simply told her before she abandoned you to seek out her husband to be, who she knew had disappeared hours earlier, with you by your side.

When Lizzie finally found Tommy outside, she confronted him about bringing you and your son to his house for the engagement party. 

"Why would you bring her here, Tommy? And why bring her brat along as well?" she demanded, causing Tommy to become angry. "The child is yours, isn't it? You fathered a child with your own fucking niece!" Lizzie spat just as Tommy pulled her aside and told her to keep her voice down.

Frustrated by her accusatory tone, Tommy replied angrily, "I brought her here because she is fucking family, and so is her son. They need protection. But I didn't invite her to our fucking wedding, Lizzie! Polly did!" 

Lizzie rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Is he yours?" she asked and Tommy clenched his jaw, struggling to control his temper.

"No, he is not," he lied calmly and, again Lizzie rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he was lying. 

"I want this whore and her bastard child out of this house as soon as possible. Do you understand?" Lizzie retorted sharply, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. 

"She is my fucking niece, Lizzie! She will be staying until it is safe for her to return to Boston. Now go inside and attend to the fucking guests. I have things to do, eh" Tommy dismissed Lizzie abruptly, not bothering to conceal his annoyance. He needed to make arrangements for better security and handle various business matters related to recent developments.

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[imaginesforeveryone]

Spunky Bitch

pairing: John Shelby x Y/N Warning: angst, swearing, sassy reader, smut, re-write of an episode (S2E2), baby kink Summary: You being a Blinder, and the right hand women of John Shelby all these years you did business with them a lot. This particular day you were doing things with the Italians, the Changrettas, and you just didn’t like the tone they were giving off.

Stood behind John Shelby, also your husband, in Charlies yard. You watched as Mr. Changretta walked towards you, accompanied by Finn, and his two body guards. 

“You asked for a meeting out in the open, fresh air and the fine aroma of shit.” Arthur spoke as Mr. Changretta stood in front of the chair across from John. You let out a small laugh as Arthur spoke. 

“Neutral grounds you say.” Arthur speaking again as you let the smile fall off your face and kept an eye on one of the two body guards that stood beside Mr. Changretta. 

“This is hardly neutral ground,” He spoke to Arthur for the first time. 

“Well, its what you’ve got.” Arthur said sitting on the chair beside John. Taking a step closer to John, and being almost shoulder to shoulder with Finn, but not really shoulder to shoulder at all, because now that kid grew tall. 

“So, por favor, sit down.” Arthur spoke motioning Mr. Changretta to sit in the chair. Smiling slightly as you listened to the conversation. Resting a hand on Johns shoulder. 

“Where is Thomas?” Mr. Changretta spoke to John. 

“He got called away.” John replied back to him, who didn’t sit down as he was told from Arthur. 

“He said he’d be here.” He rebuttled. 

“and he just told you, Thomas got called away. What do you want?” You spoke up starting to get frustrated with them man. John looking behind himself at you and giving you half grin. He loved the sas you had. Even more when it was you sticking up for him. 

“There has been a peace between the Peaky Blinders, and the Changretta family for two years now..” He spoke to John and Arthur. Seeing John smirk over at Arthur at what the man was saying. 

“Do you want some tea or not?” John interrupted him. Mr. Changretta just looking at him.

“Here, love, pour the Italians some English tea. Go on.” John said motioning you to pour tea for them. Walking around John as you hand slid across the top of his back to grab the tea pot. 

“We don’t want fucking tea.” Mr. Changretta yelled as you grabbed the pot. You looked over at John, who you could tell wanted to get up and shot him right in his head, but you also knew if this meeting didn’t go correctly, it would end bloody. Setting the tea pot back on the table and going back to you previous position behind John. 

“We want an explanation.” He spoke to John. 

“Well, I’ll have fucking tea.” Arthur said leaning forwards and grabbing the tea pot and making himself a cup of tea. 

“An explanation for what?” John asked averting his eyes away from Mr. Changretta. 

“The little Venice Restaurant on Forge Street was burnt down…” Mr. Changretta spoke. 

“No. No. Couldn’t have been us, we was at a wedding.” John spoke interrupting him for the second time. 

“You burnt it down to stop my son being at the same wedding.” Mr. Changretta stated to John. 

“EHH, He wasn’t missed.” You spoke up causing John to let out a breathy laugh. Mr. Changretta pushing out a fake laugh. 

“You are such big boys now. But once you borrowed clothes from us to look like me.” Mr. Changretta spoke. You were confused a bit by his words. You knew Mrs. Changretta was the boys teacher in school, but didn’t know how close they actually where back then. John adjusting himself in his seat, and looking over at Arthur.

“How’s the tea, Arthur? Is it..” John asked but stopped his sentence as he throw the tea out of the cup. Arthur making a disgusted face at it, 

“Its cold.” He said looking up at the body guard to Changretta’s left. John averting his eye back up to Mr. Changretta.

“Please tell Tommy. We pay whatever he asks us to pay. We stay in our part of the city and off the tracks. But you tell him from me.” He spoke but taking a pause getting closer to John. You removed you hand from his shoulder to put your hand on your gun. John putting his hand out to let you know its fine. 

“That my son will walk with any women in this city. Anyone he choses. Even if that women works for the emperor, Thomas Shelby.” John grinning at his statement but letting him speak. 

“My son is in love.” John starting to snort out a of laughed. 

“Sorry. Do excuse me.” He spoke through a bit of laughter, pulling the bill of his hat down to cover his laughing face and rubbing his eyes a bit. 

“Carry on.” He spoke after he held in his laughter. Vicente pausing and just staring at John and he composed himself. 

“And if he wishes, he will walk with the women he loves.” Vicente finished. 

“Okay.” John said out to him, still trying to compose himself a bit. 

“You know. It would be hard for your son to walk anywhere.” You spoke up behind John getting quite annoyed with the way Vicente was telling them what his son was going to do. Walking between him and Arthur grabbing the tea pot, and beginning to pour into a cup. 

“With a bullet in each knee, wouldn’t it?” John finishing you sentence. Not what you were going to say, but you know now this meeting wasn’t going to go the way it needed to go with the words John spoke. Vicente now standing straight up. You looked over at Arthur who was looking over at John now, knowing that’s not what was needed to be said. John taking a sip from the cup you just put tea in and looking up at the now angry Vicente. 

“Too much.” He said pointing a finger at John. Now blood boiling in your veins, you looked around to see what everyone next move was. 

“You said too much, my friend.” Vicente said starting to walk. 

“Sabini says, ‘suck and swallow.’ but no. Too much. I spit.” Vicente said as he spit on the ground in front of you. With slight giggle exiting everyones mouth. Hearing a chair being broken you looked over at one of the men who stood next to Vicente. 

“Oh. Okay. A bit strong.” You spoke out to the man laughing a bit. 

“Fucking hell.” John spoke after taking a sip of his tea. Arthur not looking to happy at all. 

“Isaiah.” Arthur said to the young Peaky boy stood behind him. Isaiah Leaning over next to Arthur. 

“Put two extra men on our pubs in Nechells.” He told him. John looking over at Arthur in confusion. 

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” John asked. 

“We’re not scared of fucking eye ties anymore.” You told Arthur. 

“Don’t tell Tommy about the chair and clean this fucking shit up.” Arthur said to Isaiah ignoring what you and John just said to him. Standing from his seat and looking over at John and you with anger. John looking at him with an expression that said “what the fuck.”

“We’re not scared of fucking wops.” John said to Arthur turning around in his seat. 

“Alright John.” Arthur said under his breathe.

“Come on lets get back to the shop.” You told John taping him on the shoulder. He stood up and threw his arm over you shoulder as you guys began to walk to the betting shop. Walking through an alley, John grabbing you by your hips and pushing you up against the wall and attaching his lips to yours.

“It so sexy when you stand up for me like that.” He said through kisses. You smiled and lightly pushed him away. 

“How about you show me how sexy it is?” You spoke up at him now with his back against the other walls. 

“Later love. We have to get back to the shop.” He said causing a puppy dog face to spread across your face. He just giggled and threw his arm around you again and continued your walk. 

“Hey Pol. Can you help me real quick? I barely understand Arthurs writing. I feel like I’m super drunk trying to read them.” You said as you heard Polly walking into the office you and John shared, but she didn’t answer back just kept her eyes locked on John as he had his feet up, sipping tea and reading the newspaper. She then threw her newspaper on his desk. He looked up at her from the corner of his eye and still sipping his tea. 

“Did we run Kempton yesterday or not?” He spoke to her breaking the silence and setting his cup down. But still had his eyes fixed on his newspaper. 

“Danny Lee got drunk, instead of injecting the horses with cocaine, he decided to share it with his cousins.” She explained talking about the races that were being held at the racetrack the day before. John just closes his eyes trying to regain patiences about the situation and sided softly. 

“Jesus Christ.” He spoke out about it. 

“Its your brother-in-law. Tell Esme to speak about it.” She spoke back. 

“Ex.” You spoke out from the side. 

“Maybe be an ex darling but nobody divorces a Shelby. Shelby’s just get married again. I love you like my own kin darling, but I’m sorry to say you are married to a married man, who’s wives family is a big part of this company, and sadly we still need them.” She spoke to you but not looking your way. You sighed softly and sat back in your chair to see where the rest of this conversation was headed. 

“look.” Polly spoke going back to the previous conversation. 

“Before I start.” She said grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the other side of Johns desk.

“I don’t want you to do a thing about this.” She said then shutting the door. This really peaking your interest, kind of knowing what she was about to talk about. 

“About what?"John asked already with annoyance in his voice and face as he took his feet off his desk to face Polly now. You knew what she was about to say was about the Changretta problem. 

"Vicente Changretta’s son.” She said before taking a seat. John sitting up with s mile on his face and laughing. 

“The one Lizzie was stepping out with.” Polly said. 

“What, Angel?” He asked for confirmation of her previous statement. 

“He’s no bigger than twopence with of change.” He spoke before letting Polly speak again. 

“Well, he heard you threatened him directly to shoot him in his knees and not he’s going around Nechells telling everybody he’s going to kill you.” She spoke. You instantly standing up to begin your joinery to go kill him yourself.

“Sit.” John said. You rolled your eyes sitting down, crossing your legs and your arms. John grabbing a pencil looking as if he was writing something. 

“This is Lizzie’s fault to start with, Tommy’s for leaving it up to you.” She told him.

“What are you talking about?” John asked looking up at Polly now with confusion on his face. Polly just look at John with a blank expression. 

“We run London. We run the north, we run the whole fucking country. What do we care about some fucking Nechells Green Eyeties?” He spoke seeing him starting to get a little angry as he looked down at his paper again. You stood from you desk and walked over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders hoping to maybe calm him down a bit. You looked at Pol, who just raised an eyebrow, knowing what she said next was probably going to piss him off even more. 

“We sent need to be getting involved in all these little piss pots.” Polly said back to John. 

“What does Arthur say?” John said with his voice a little calmer. Pol again looking up at you and raising both eyebrows. 

“That’s why I’m here and not him. If he said it, there’d be a fight.” Pol said getting ready to tell John what Arthur said. 

“He says, apologize.” Pol said. Instantly shooting your eyes to hers then down at John, now lightly massaging his shoulders hoping it will help him from getting angry. He put his had to his face almost with a face of disbelief that Arthur said that. 

“He fucking said what?” He said with laugh between words. You knew it wasn’t a good kind of laugh. He went back to scribbling on his paper. 

“We own the city. But we dint need to rub everyones noses in it.” Polly said causing John to push his pencil hard into the paper. 

“If the old man decided to make a stand, he might get Sabini feeling sentimental..”

“Sabine’s done.” John said interrupting Polly. There was defiantly an awkward silence now in the room as everyone just kind of looked around not making eye contact. 

“They’re all done.” Polly said breaking the silence. John putting his fist up to his head and pushing his forehead into it trying to get himself as calm as possible. But, you’ve known John a while and there’s only so much that could be done to keep him calm, so you took your hands away from him and took a step back. 

“They all pay up. But we don’t want rebellions.” Polly continued. John now sighing heavily still trying to keep calm. 

“What does Tommy say?” He asked in a tone of regret even asking the question. 

“Tommy’s busy. He left me in charge.” Polly spoke with a low but direct tone trying to make John understand. 

“What do you say?” John asked twirling his finger, fixing his mistake with his eyes closed. 

“Compromise.” Polly said sitting back in her chair. 

“Mmm-hmm” John said under his breathe with s light smirk on his face. 

“I’ve asked Lizzie to do it for you. She’s going to meet him, break up with him for good, apologize for any inconvenience, say it was all her fault”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” John screamed stranding and hitting everything off the table finally losing his cool. You just stood there in silence, waiting to see what would happen next. 

“You know what ask this is?” John asked with a slight stutter. 

“This is Arthur’s fucking missus.” He said starting to walk back and forth talking about Linda. 

“Turn the other fucking cheek? We’ll be handing out bibles in the fucking bull ring with her cousins.” John said leaning over the desk to Polly before turning and grabbing his jacket. 

“John, you don’t have to do anything. Lizzie will do it for you.” Polly spoke. You threw your hands in the air, and put them over your face knowing that was going tone make him more mad. 

“ Then it’ll all calm down, and nobody will lose face.” Polly said as John walked passed her to the door. You followed behind stopping next to Polly. 

“I’ll take his fucking face. How about that?” He said as he opened the door. 

“John, do nothing…. ” Polly began but John slamming the door before she could finish. She let out a sigh and looked over at you. 

“How do you deal with this?” Polly asked you. 

“I’ll try to find him.” You said quickly grabbing your jacket and running out of the office and out the front doors. You saw Johns car driving away. You hoped into yours and followed him. Losing him. few blocks away. You drove in the direction of where the Changretta’s spent most their time. After about 10 minutes you spotted John’s car parked in front of a building. You parked and got out running to the front doors. But before you should open them, John came out. He had sweat on his forehead, and blood on the blade of his cap. 

“John. What did you do?” You said backing up a bit. He ignored you and pushed passed.

“JOHN!” You yelled at him. 

“Nothing y/n! Leave me alone!” He yelled back before getting into his car and driving away. You threw you hands in the air and sighed out. 

“Fucking Shelby’s” You spoke out loud to yourself. 

“Where is he?” Polly asked about an hour later as you sat in the kitchen with her and Arthur sipping tea. Tommy stood in the betting shop waiting for John to show. You heard the door close and saw John walk in with his hat in his hand and Finn stood next to him.

“All right, Finn, thanks for coming. Fuck off.” Arthur said as John stood, not making eye contact with anyone in the room. You were quite upset at how he treated you when you saw him. But here is where we’d get all the answers we needed. 

“Finn, you can stay.” Tommy said walking into the kitchen, and Finn turning around too come back. Tommy stepping in the doorway. 

“Sit down John.” Tommy said leaning up against the doorframe smoking his cigarette. 

“Sit down.” He said once again when John didn’t the first time. 

“John, you cut Angel Changretta.” Tommy spoke after a bit of silence. You looked over at John who just held his head down and listened. 

“Even though Arthur told you to apologize.” Tommy spoke Arthur holding his head up to show that yes he did tell John that. 

“Mmm-hmm” Was all John said to that statement. 

“Polly told you to compromise.” Tommy continued. 

“Mmm-Hmm” John replied again with. 

“You chose not to listen to Mr. Apologize, or Mrs. Compromise.” Tommy said pointing his finger at each of them, causing you to sightly grin. 

“And now I have an Italian walking around my backyard saying he’s going to kill my brother.” Tommy spoke after a slight pause. Making a fist of your hand. 

“Not if he wants to join his son in having no eyes too.” You said quietly, causing everyone to look at you. You held you head down letting Tommy speak. 

“So what do we do, John. Do we apologize or do we compromise?” Tommy asked. Seeming as if it was a trick question to you the way this conversation has been going. John sucked on his teeth looking down, and then up at Arthur. 

“Oh, it was just something said as a joke.” Arthur spoke for the first time since sitting down. Tommy looking up at him away from John. 

“Yeah but he’s your brother as well, Arthur.” He said lifting a hand and speaking with it. 

“Yeah. I know I didn’t want to start a war over something John said without meaning it.” Arthur said looking back at Tommy. Tommy had a confused look on his face and looked away. 

“So, should he apologize in Italian or in English?” Tommy said looking back at Arthur with slight sarcasm in his voice. Polly looked over at Tommy in disbelief he just said that and Johns eyes finally coming up off the table and looking over at Arthur, Polly and you.

“Or should we ask them which fucking language they prefer?” Tommy asked them. You now understood that Tommy was on John’s side about the decision. 

“I’m not clear.” He said looking over at Arthur with anger on his face. Polly turning and moving her body is confusion and like she just had been disrespected in some way. 

“You said while this business was going on in London, you wanted peace at home.” Polly spoke to Tommy.

“And the only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless.” Arthur sitting back in his seat more tense than before, and Polly with her hand on him hoping to calm him down a little bit. Polly stared at Tommy with disbelief in her eyes. 

“If you apologize once, you do it again and again and again. Like taking brick out of the wall of your fucking house. Do you want to bring the house down Arthur?” Tommy said looking over at Arthur who was still looking away from Tommy and tense as ever. Arthur just grunting back at Tommy’s question. 

“If you’re soft on rebellion, it’ll grow.” Tommy spoke. Polly grinning as she picked up her tea again, and Arthur getting up from his seat. 

“Bloody 'soft on rebellion.” Arthur said standing up mocking what Tommy said. 

“You did the right thing, John.” Tommy spoke looking directly at you now. You could see the lust in his eyes the way he looked at you. 

“Now, we go on the offensive. We take two of the Changretta pubs, and we take them tonight. That’s it.” Tommy sad standing straight and now walking all the way into the room. 

“oh! Right, for Christ sake, why?” Polly now raising her voice. 

“Hey!” Tommy said as he began to walk away.

“WHY!?” Polly yelled back. 

“Why? because we fucking can!” Tommy said walking back now and everyone settling back down as he raised his voice. 

“Because we fucking can and if we can, we do. And if we lift our heel off their necks now, they’ll come at us. Do you want them to come after your wife John?” He said motioning to you. 

“No.” He said in a low growl. 

“Remember these are the bastards that wanted Danny Whizz-Band dead.” Thomas said with even more anger in your voice. Remembering back to when Danny was alive. He was a joy to be around when he wasn’t off his rocker. Arthur now pacing in front of the fire place and Tommy just staring at him. 

“You’re getting soft, brother. Soft and weak. Save the Bible for Sundays, eh.” Tommy said to Arthur still not taking his eyes off of him and Arthur getting noticeably more angry. 

“Finn?” Tommy said still staring at Arthur. 

“I need to get to Hockey and then home. It’s been a long day.” Thomas spoke to Finn. Finn getting up and placing his hand on Johns shoulder as he passed him walking passed Tommy probably to go get the car ready to go. 

“You take the Wrexham, you take the Five Bells. Arthur on the Wrexham. John and Y/N the Five Bells.” He said giving you guys your orders for the night. 

“You get them signed over to us in the morning. You make sure the coppers stay away.” Tommy said to Arthur and Polly, who both now paid no attention to him. 

“Don’t use the fucking phone, all right? There’s someone listening.” Tommy said before turning around. 

“Oh and John.” Tommy said turning around one more. 

“You fuck your wife in the Five Bells to celebrate what you have done.” Thomas said and finally leaving. John sat there in silence as he looked up at Arthur and Polly. Arthur looking at him and walking to him. 

“Well done.” He said walking passed John and leaving. John turning to see Arthur leave and all you heard in the room was Polly slurping her tea and staring up at John, making you giggled just a bit. You got up along with John to start heading to do you assigned duties.

As you kicked the last person out of the bar, your felt hands around you turning you around and pushing you up the door. 

“Tommy’s order, eh?” John said with a huge smile on his face. You smiled back and attached your lips to his. He lifted you from your feet and onto him. Before sitting you on the bar and ripped it off from the glass that laid on it from prior activities you guys indulged in. 

“You want to fuck me Mr. Shelby?” You asked between kisses. 

“ I want to do more than fuck you Mrs. Shelby. I want to put a baby in you. Right in this pub.” He said making your eyes go wide. 

“Then come on daddy.” You said making him see red. Attacking your neck with his lips making you moan out a bit. He unbuckled his pants and slipped them down around his ankles. Then doing so for you. But not before he ripped open your top to make you breast accessible. Taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking furiously on it, you grabbed the back of his neck for leverage to stay up. His now sweaty hair not slicked bad anymore you yanked it back pulled his face to yours. You reached between you two grabbing his cock in your hand and guiding him inside of you. 

“Oh fuck, John.” You moaned out and throwing your head back. As he pumped in and out of you he gripped your shoulder to give him leverage to pound into you. 

“John, please don’t stop.” You cried out. 

“Why, love?” He asked as he slowed down. 

“NO, Please don’t.” You cried out as your grabbed around his torso to pull him into you. 

“You want me to put a baby in you? You want to cum all over me?” He said stilled now. 

“Yes, please please, making me cum. Put a baby in me.” and with that being said he quickened again, pounding even harder into you than before. 

“John, I’m going to cum.” You spoke out with labored breathing. 

“Go ahead , love. I’m right there too.” He said as you felt this cock twitch in side of you and he started to get shaky. You came and yelled out. Loud. As you clenched around him, he let out a stream into you. You felt the hot cum just all inside you, making you smile and giggle out. As he pumped a few small strokes and relaxed his muscles into you. 

“Fuck. I love you.” He said lifting his head. 

“I love you, John Shelby.” You said kissing him.

[thepeakygirl]

I miss this show 😩 also new picture of my two favourite people

[onydung]

Tommy is a sopping wet cat

Arthur is the deranged orange cat

and John is the stray cat that keeps on impregnating house cats and is protective of them

No, I will not be taking any revision

I illustrated it!