#peaky blinder

[queenshelby]

BUSINESS AS USUAL (PART ONE)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Smut, Cheating,

Words: 1,000 (as will be most parts in this series)

You watched through the crack of the door which, clearly, she had left open on purpose as this was nothing but a game to her. She wanted you to see her, making love to your husband this way and you were curious to see whether it was true.

Was he really sleeping with her? A woman lacking both class and morals. A woman so vile that your stomach turned from the inside out.

You were disgusted and, remembering his lips on yours made you want to vomit.

“Gosh, Tommy. Seriously? Her? Why” was what you wondered as you stood there, silently, watching as he leaned forward and then, slowly, their lips met, gently, softly at first and then with more passion.

Tommy’s left hand moved up to fondle her breasts and she moaned softly into his mouth.

Eventually though, they parted and Laura looked into his eyes.

“I need you to fuck me, right here” she told him as his hand moved up from her breasts and started to unbutton her shirt.

“This is my wife’s office Love” Tommy told her reluctantly as she put her hand on his.

“Yes, I know. It turns me on. She has nice taste for interior design and I want you to fuck me on her immaculate cedar desk” she said. Her voice was forceful and she walked imperiously to your desk and, provokably, sat on the edge of it.

Your heart immediately sank, thinking that, surely, he would not be fucking her inside your very own office. This was your private space and you felt as though they had no right to utilise it in such a derogatory manner.

But, clearly you were wrong as, within seconds, you watched as your husband placed his hands on her thighs.

“As you wish Love” he told her and she slowly moved her hands up and began unbuttoning her shirt. The material drifted apart revealing her lacy bra and you gasped as your husband watched her in complete rapture. She stood up and undid her skirt which slipped to the floor. Then, she sat on the edge of the desk again and grabbed hold of Tommy’s tie before pulling him up.

"We don't have long” she said before pulling him closer and they kissed while her hands started to work at your husband’s belt and then, before too long, she was caressing his erection through his briefs.

Within seconds, he tore himself away from her kiss and pulled his underwear down all the while she lifted herself off the desk and slipped her panties down and off.

It was revolting and you knew what was going to happen next, right there, on your desk.

“Spread your legs for me Love. Nice and wide” Tommy told her before kissing her again and then you could see his cock, pressing into her crotch and you heard her sigh gently.

He then kissed her again and she leaned back and opened her legs wider. Her hand then grasped your husband’s cock and guided it towards her opening. He pushed forward and slipped inside her and, by this point, you felt ill, well and truly.

You then heard Tommy groan loudly while small whimpers escaped Laura’s lips and her eyes started to close. The sound of their fucking combined with the soft gasps and whimpers were making you feel all sorts of things. There was hate, regret, disgust and even jealousy. It was revolting and, yet, you couldn’t look away, watching your husband make love to another woman.

Eventually, Laura’s breathing became faster and her eyes opened wide. You knew she was close and, apparently, so did your husband as you watched thrust a bit faster now.

You were listening to the moans, groans and the squelching noises which, clearly, were a testament to her arousal.

“Oh god, Tommy, I am so close” she moaned as, clearly, her pussy clamped down onto his cock and as her orgasm washed through her and, just as she came, so did he.

He flooded her pussy with his seed and this was when you had enough. You could not take it anymore and looked away before, eventually, tippy toeing to your chambers.

You were crying some silent tears, feeling failure and regret over marrying this man and, whilst you knew that your husband had been visiting the whore house every week, this was so much worse. Laura Garett, out of all fucking people.

You hated her. She was vile and, yet, your very own husband was sleeping with her and you certainly did not know why. Was it boredom? Did he love her? Why did he sleep with her?

In the end, you tried to drown your sorrows with some whiskey that night and then went to bed only to be woken up again, during the night, by your crying step-son, Charlie.

He was missing his mother again and, just as the night before, you took him into your own bed and read him a story. He was still young and needed someone in his life. Someone other than his father who, clearly, had no idea about his son’s very own fears and nightmares.

But you, you did. You had lived at Arrow House for three months and had become accustomed to your role there. Charlie liked you and, luckily for him, you liked him too.

And yet, none of this was enough for you. You wanted, no you needed, to be loved but love was not a feeling your husband was capable of so you knew that, perhaps, you had to find it somewhere else.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[reiwanwan]

A place for the broken

As a child, your mother warned you about the monsters that lay in the woods. But now that she’s gone, you’re left to wander on your own. That’s until you decide to go into the woods to find a missing cattle and you’re met with the monster himself .

Vampire!Alfie and Human!reader. Note that the reader, is 18 and this story is no way intended to be romantic but only platonic

Word count: 4k

content warning: Blood, violence-mentions of unaliving someone.

“Beware the man in the woods, hidden among the tall trees, lurking in the shadows, preying on the weak.”

That was the warning whispered by your mother, passed down to every child in the village—a tale spun to instill fear and vigilance. It wasn’t just a story; it was warning against the enemy who lived on the fringes of your world. Alfie, the Terrible.

He was said to be a giant of a man, towering over his prey like a shadow cast by the moon. Vicious and merciless, he left no trace of life in his victims’ eyes as he discarded their bodies like refuse. Rumors painted him as a monster, his face so grotesque that a single glance was enough to fill one’s heart with dread. His voice, rough and guttural, was laced with venom, spitting curses at those who dared to scream for mercy.

You had never seen this man, but the stories had a way of sinking into your bones. You believed in Alfie’s existence—how could you not? The village itself seemed shaped by fear, its people exhausting themselves in rituals to ward off vampires, beasts, and other creatures that lurked in the dark.

And yet, a part of you wasn’t satisfied. The tales that frightened others only fueled your curiosity. You wondered what truth lay buried beneath the legends. Who was Alfie, really? Was he the monster they described, or was there something more?

But such questions would have to wait. Today was not a day for curiosity. Today was a day for grief.

It had been a year since your mother had succumbed to tuberculosis, leaving you orphaned and alone. Your father had vanished before you were old enough to remember him, and there were no siblings to share the weight of your loss.

“It takes a village to raise a child,” they liked to say. But you knew better. The village had turned its back on you long ago. No one cared for you or your mother. She was a whore, and you were her shadow, wandering the village aimlessly while she worked through the night, her shifts stretching into the pale hours of dawn.

You scoffed at the memory of those hollow words, the empty promises of community and care. The village hadn’t raised you; it had abandoned you. And now, as you prepared to mark another year without her, you felt the weight of that truth pressing down harder than ever.

You were called “trouble” for as long as you could remember. While your mother worked with her clients, you wandered the market, searching for scraps of leftover food. Hunger was a constant ache, gnawing at your insides, a relentless reminder of how little your mother could provide. Most days, your stomach growled louder than the chatter of the villagers.

One day, when you were just eight, you spotted a stall selling fresh bread. The golden crust gleamed under the sun, and the smell wafting through the air made your mouth water. The stall owner was deep in conversation with his friends, his attention elsewhere. Your stomach twisted painfully, and desperation overtook caution. Slowly, you crept toward the stall, heart pounding, and snatched a loaf.

But before you could slip away, a rough hand grabbed your wrist.

“Oi, child! Put that bread back where you bloody took it from!” the stall owner bellowed, his voice booming across the market. His grip was unyielding, and his shout drew the attention of everyone around. Heads turned, eyes filled with disapproval and disgust.

“S-sir, please… I’m sorry… but I’m so hungry,” you stammered, your voice cracking as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

“Sorry’s not going to cut it!” he spat, his face twisted with anger. “If you’re hungry, you pay like the rest of us! Go ask that whore mother of yours to feed her child, yeah?”

His words cut deep, sharper than any knife. Even as a child, you understood what being the child of a whore meant in this village. Shame burned in your chest, and your eyes dropped to the ground. Slowly, you placed the loaf back on the counter, your hands trembling. Without another word, you walked away, your head bowed low as the villagers whispered behind your back. You didn’t need to hear the words to know they weren’t kind.

You found a quiet corner away from the market and slid down against the wall. Exhaustion weighed heavy on you, your body curling in on itself as you held your empty stomach. The sky darkened, and your mother was still nowhere to be found. Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the discomfort, sleep began to claim you.

But then, a cold hand rested gently on your shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, struggling to make sense of the figure before you. The world spun, and your vision blurred, but the voice was clear—soft, almost tender.

“Eat, child,” it said.

A hand brushed through your messy hair, the gesture so gentle it reminded you of how your mother used to soothe you to sleep. Before you could respond, the figure was gone, leaving behind only the faintest trace of their presence.

When your vision cleared, you looked down and gasped. There, in front of you, was the same loaf of bread you had tried to steal—along with several others. You scanned the area, fear and disbelief mingling in your chest. Was this a trick? A cruel joke from the other children?

But the bread was real. Slowly, hesitantly, you reached for it. You tore off a small piece and brought it to your mouth, unsure if it would vanish the moment you bit into it. But the softness of the bread melted on your tongue, and the floodgates opened. You devoured the rest, taking hurried bites, afraid it might disappear if you waited too long.

This wasn’t the last time.

Over the years, it became impossible to ignore the mysterious figure who seemed to appear whenever you were at your lowest. You convinced yourself they were a guardian angel sent to protect you.

At sixteen, you found yourself sobbing alone in your small home. The other children had tormented you again, their cruel words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “A whore’s child,” they sneered, their laughter echoing in your ears long after they had gone.

As you sat in your kitchen, head buried in your hands, you heard a knock at the window. Startled, you wiped your tears and cautiously approached. Swinging it open, you were greeted by the cool night air—and a single carnation flower resting on your bed.

Your breath hitched as you picked it up, cradling it in your hands. The petals were soft, vibrant, and full of life—a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt inside. Holding the flower close to your heart, you whispered a prayer.

“Lord, if you hear me, please send my gratitude to the kind angel watching over me.”

You held the carnation tightly, its delicate beauty a small reminder that even in your darkest moments, someone, somewhere out there cared.

At 18, life had become a little easier for you. Your guardian angel, who once appeared so often, now visited less frequently. You had managed to secure a job working on a farm, taking care of cattle and horses. Harold, the farmer—a man in his 30s—had reluctantly hired you when you were 17, shortly after your mother passed away. Despite his initial hesitation, Harold had been kind, paying you fairly. Your earnings were enough to buy food for the week and replace your torn, ragged blouse.

But lately, things on the farm had taken a turn.

“God damn it, who’s been stealing the fucking cows?” Harold grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was the third cow gone this week. The first time it happened, Harold had found one of the cows dead near the woods. Even you were growing annoyed with the disappearances—it was making your job harder.

“I can try finding the thief, Harold,” you offered.

“Nah, that’s alright, Y/N. You just go take care of the horses.”

You nodded and left it at that, heading to the stables. There, you brushed and detangled the horses’ manes, scrubbed their fur, and fed them. But as you worked, you heard the faint sound of footsteps near the cattle. Your heart quickened—this had to be the thief. Quietly, you followed the sound, slipping through the trees and into the woods where the first cow had been found.

The figure you had been tracking came into view—a tall man, his shadow sharp against the fading light.

“So, you’ve caught up to me, haven’t ya?” he said without turning around.

“Why have you been stealing the cows from the farm?” you demanded, trying to sound firm despite the trembling in your voice.

He turned to face you, and for the first time, you saw him clearly—a rugged, bearded man with eyes that were impossible to read.

“Well, treacle, I’ve been hungry, haven’t I? Forgive me this once, will you, Y/N?” His tone was playful, almost teasing, but the mention of your name made you freeze.

“How do you know my name?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes soften when he notices, he stares at you for a moment before reaching his hands into the pocket in his coat. He pulled out a tiny pony figurine. And you recognised it almost immediately. It was a toy that your mother had gotten for you to play with while she was away. It was broken in half.

“That was yours, wasn’t it? I found it when you were just a little thing, sleeping near the market. I wanted to give it back, but it was broken. Couldn’t give a child a broken toy, now could I?”

And then it all started to make sense.

This was the man that had been watching over you when you were 8. The man you regarded as your guardian angel.

“You remember me now love, don’t ya?” he says with a wide smile and from the corner of his mouth you could see the unmistakable fangs glistening under the sunlight.

Your eyes widened slightly and he chuckled softly.

“And you’ve now found out what I am too, what a great day for me”.

This was Alfie—the terrible vampire you’d heard so many stories about from villagers and even your mother. But he wasn’t the vicious, heartless monster they had described. He was just… a man. A man with scars, rugged skin, and a voice that was gruff but kind.

“You are Alfie?…The terrible? the one who gave me bread from the market when I was sleeping?”

“Oh please, do thank me later treacle” he teases.

“The one people say eats people and throws their bodies aside?”

He smirked. “That’s me, alright.” Then, with a softer tone, he added, “And you’ve turned out to be a wonderful girl.”

You scoffed at his words. “Wonderful? That’s not how others would describe me.”

“Yeah, but that’s how I’d describe you,” he replied without hesitation.

The both of you stood in silence for a bit until you decided to speak up.

“Why’d you give me the bread that day? and the flowers too.”

Well, I couldn’t just let you starve, could I? And as for the flower—your window was open, love. Didn’t anyone tell you to keep it shut at night? To protect yourself from monsters like me?” He gestured theatrically, making you laugh despite yourself.

“You could’ve left me to starve” you said, half-teasing.

“Yeah, but I didn’t. Guess I’m a good guy after all. I couldn’t stand seeing a little thing like you wandering around alone. I’ve lived long enough to know what it’s like to grow up with no one.”

You couldn’t believe it. A so-called heartless monster like him felt sympathy for a mere human like you. Why did people create stories about him, if his heart was so full of kindness? His presence was warm. Sometimes you would know when he was around when the cold air around you became warm, blanketing you in the coldest nights.

“Thank you for taking care of me, you’re my guardian angel” you thanked him, walking closer and held his hands. He held yours back, his rough palms enveloping yours.

He snickered at your comment. “Guardian angel?, my love I am nothing but a useless monster”

You shook her head and squeezed his hands tightly. “That’s not true at all Alfie…you were there for me, you comforted me, you were there”.

He looked at you with a gaze so soft, it felt like a warm,comforting embrace. One that you never knew you needed before. His hands combed down your hair and he looked at you as if you were prized possession.

Alfie shakes his head and straightens his back, “well, I’m sorry for the cows, I like those better than humans, animal blood. Humans yeah? taste fuckin awful, like a load of shit it does”. You laughed at his joke. You don’t remember how long it has been since you laughed so genuinely with someone, and Alfie made it happen.

“You’ve grown so much haven’t ya? ah, look what you’ve done to me…I’m becoming a sappy bastard now, haven’t been like this in a while now”

You tilted your head curiously, “How old are you?”. He looked up and seemed to be counting the numbers with his fingers.

“About maybe 187 years old? give or take. Oh, I don’t remember, I’ve stopped counting after 100, I’ve only got 10 bloody fingers haven’t I?”

“Now, love,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “you’d best get back. Harold’ll be worried sick.”

You nodded and began walking back but stopped halfway, turning to look at him one last time.

“Thanks for everything, Alfie.”

“Take care, my Love”

Harold spotted you running down from the woods, his expression unreadable as he watched your hurried approach.

“Harold, I was trying to find the guy who keeps stealing the cows. I’m sorry for leaving the horses unattended…I can work extra hours to make up for it,” you offered, guilt lacing your tone.

He regarded you for a moment, his face still carrying that strange look—worry? Doubt? You couldn’t quite name it.

“Look, you know what? It’s late. Go home and come back tomorrow,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. Yet, that expression lingered, and it gnawed at you even as you nodded and turned away.

When you finally arrived home and laid your head on the pillow, your thoughts refused to settle. They drifted back to Alfie. The stories you had heard painted him as grotesque and terrifying, a monster to be feared. But the man you met in the woods was nothing like those tales.

Yes, his face bore scars, and his blind eye was a stark reminder of battles fought and wounds endured. But even so, you had looked at him—not with fear, but with something far deeper. Admiration, perhaps. Or maybe even love, though it felt too soon to name it. It was as if you had known him your whole life, as if his presence had always been a part of you, quietly watching over you in the shadows.

Why would a monster—a vampire, no less—choose to show such kindness to a mere orphan? Why did the villagers call him merciless and ferocious when his touch and his words were anything but? His voice had been gentle, his gaze warm, his very presence soothing, like a balm to the ache in your heart.

The world, it seemed, judged too quickly. People saw only what was on the surface, never pausing to consider what lay beneath. They feared what was different, what was broken, what was damaged.

But you had learned, even as a child, that everyone carried their own damage. Everyone was broken in some way, shaped by the weight of things they had endured. It was this shared brokenness that should have united people, yet it only seemed to drive them apart.

Lying there in the quiet of your room, you couldn’t stop wondering why Alfie had chosen you. Why he had cared enough to watch over you, to offer you bread and flowers, to keep you warm on cold nights. He was no monster. He was no vampire.

He was an angel. An angel for someone like you.

The deafening noise of an angry mob outside your home tore you violently from your slumber. Jolting upright, you stumbled to the window, your heart hammering in your chest. Outside, the entire village had gathered, their faces contorted with rage, their voices a chaotic cacophony of chants and shouted profanities. They pounded on your door with a furious intensity that made the walls tremble.

Panic gripped you as you scrambled out of bed and threw open the door.

“What is the meaning of all this?” you demanded, though your voice quivered with fear.

From the crowd, a man’s voice rang out above the noise. “You’ve been seen speaking with Alfie the Terrible! Conspiring with that monster from the woods! You must have connections to other creatures—dark, wicked creatures. You’re a cursed girl!”

The crowd roared in agreement.

“Yes, Harold told us!” a woman shrieked, her voice cutting through the din. “He saw you in the woods with him. We were right about you all along! You’ve brought nothing but trouble since the day you were born!”

“We should kill her!” another villager shouted. “Rid ourselves of her evil before she brings more misfortune!”

The mob erupted into cheers, their collective fury swelling as several villagers surged forward. Rough hands grabbed you, pulling you from your doorstep and dragging you through the streets.

“Please!” you begged, your voice breaking as they carried you toward the village pond. “You’re wrong! I’m not conspiring with anyone! You don’t understand!”

But they didn’t listen.

“Alfie’s heart is pure! He’s not what you think he is!” you cried, your voice desperate and raw. “Please, you’re mistaken!”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the mob’s chants. Your eyes darted frantically through the crowd, searching for a lifeline, someone who might listen. Then you saw him—Harold. His gaze met yours for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment. You thought you saw regret flicker across his face, but it was gone before you could be sure.

Strong hands yanked your arms behind your back, twisting them painfully. You struggled, but they pinned you in place, forcing you toward the pond. Another hand grabbed your head and shoved it down into the icy water.

The cold was a shock that stole your breath, your screams reduced to a muffled gurgle. You thrashed, your lungs burning as they filled with water.

In those harrowing moments, your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t control. Memories, regrets, and a deep, aching question: Why? Why did the world turn so easily against you? Why were you punished simply for existing, for a life you never chose?

The mob’s cheers roared in your ears, but they seemed distant, fading as your strength ebbed away. Your struggles slowed, then ceased altogether.

When your body went limp, they released you, letting you fall lifelessly to the muddy bank. Someone bent down to check for a pulse.

“No pulse,” they declared coldly. “Finally, some dirt off our plates.”

The villagers erupted into cheers, celebrating your death as though it were some great victory. One by one, they dispersed, their voices fading into the night.

And there you lay, your lifeless body abandoned by the pond, left alone beneath the cold, uncaring sky.

The villagers’ celebration echoed through the woods, carrying laughter and cheers on the wind. Alfie paused mid-stride, his sharp ears catching the noise. He grunted, assuming it was one of their usual meaningless rituals or festivals. He rarely paid attention to the village’s affairs, only ever venturing near when he wanted to check on you. But tonight, an unshakable sense of unease settled in his chest, pulling him toward the source of the commotion.

As he approached the pond, the cheers grew louder, mingling with the crackle of torches and the clinking of mugs. Alfie’s sharp eyes scanned the area, his presence cloaked in shadows as he moved silently through the trees. He’d always prided himself on how easily he could observe these fools without being noticed. They were blind, ignorant, too wrapped up in their small, pitiful lives to sense the predator in their midst.

But as he drew closer, something caught his eye—a figure lying motionless by the water.

“Poor lad,” he muttered, shaking his head. It wasn’t uncommon for the villagers to leave their drunk or wounded behind. He was about to turn away when a sickening realization struck him.

His breath hitched.

No.

His pace quickened, his heart pounding as he closed the distance. And when he finally reached the body, his worst fears were confirmed.

It was you.

For a moment, the world around him blurred. He dropped to his knees, scooping your lifeless form into his arms. His fingers trembled as they pressed against the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse.

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice breaking. “Fuck, no, no, no. How could I not have seen this? How could I let this happen?”

His curses grew louder, more frantic, as he cradled you closer. Your skin was cold, your lips tinged blue, and your once-bright eyes were shut, sunken into your pale face.

“Is alright, yeah?” His voice cracked, shaking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Alfie’s here, ain’t he? No one’s gonna hurt ya anymore, I swear it. I fucking promise.”

But the promises fell into the void, unanswered. You were gone.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding you as though he could somehow will you back to life. Finally, he stood, your body still in his arms, and began walking toward the village.

When he arrived, the villagers were in the midst of their revelry, toasting and laughing in the glow of bonfires. They didn’t notice him at first, too consumed by their own cruelty. But as he stepped into the light, their laughter died. One by one, they turned, their faces draining of color as they realized who stood before them.

Alfie Solomons.

The monster from the woods.

The tales they’d whispered about in fear had come to life, and he was more terrifying than they’d imagined. But what froze them wasn’t his scarred face or his towering presence—it was the sight of you, lifeless in his arms.

“Someone,” Alfie growled, his voice low and dangerous, “better fucking explain.”

The villagers shrank back, their terror palpable. No one dared to speak until, finally, one trembling man stepped forward and stammered out the truth.

Alfie listened in silence, his expression darkening with every word. When the man finished, Alfie let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“Right,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “So that’s it, yeah? You killed her. Killed her for talking to me.”

He looked down at you, his jaw tightening as he fought to contain the rage boiling inside him.

“I thought, after all the centuries I’ve lived, I might see some bloody change in this world. Some shred of decency in humanity. But no. You lot are just as vile as you’ve always been. Worse, even.”

He raised his voice, his words cutting through the silence like a blade.

“You see her? This lovely little girl here?” He held you up slightly, his arms trembling with fury. “She’s dead. Dead because of you. And for what? For showing me kindness? For being the only bloody person in this cursed place with a heart?”

The villagers cowered, their eyes darting between him and the lifeless body in his arms.

“You don’t deserve to look at her,” Alfie snarled, his voice shaking with grief and anger. “Let alone bury her. But you’ll do it. You’ll make it bloody perfect, or I’ll show you just how real your stupid fucking tales are. Understand?”

Terrified, the villagers nodded, scrambling to obey.

Alfie stayed long enough to ensure they followed his orders, his piercing gaze never leaving them. And when the grave was finished, he placed you in it himself, his hands trembling as he arranged you gently, as though you were merely sleeping.

As the years passed, Alfie remained by your grave, a steadfast guardian of your memory. The seasons changed, the world around him aged, but he did not. His immortal body remained untouched by time, though his heart bore the heavy weight of grief.

Every day, he tended to your grave with meticulous care, clearing away fallen leaves, planting flowers, and ensuring the earth above you stayed undisturbed. He carved your name into the stone with his own hands, the lettering rough but heartfelt. When villagers passed by, trying to offer help, he would grumble and wave them off, his tone sharp but his actions gentle.

At first, the villagers feared him, their offerings of animal blood and trinkets left trembling at the edge of the graveyard. Alfie would glare at the gifts, muttering curses under his breath, but he never refused them. Over time, their fear softened into wary respect, and eventually, acceptance.

Generations came and went, and Alfie became a fixture in the village’s history. Parents would point him out to their children, telling the tale of the girl who showed kindness to the monster of the woods, and how her death had changed everything.

“Don’t be afraid of him,” they would say. “He won’t hurt you. He’s just looking after her.”

The children, wide-eyed and curious, would sometimes approach him, though always at a safe distance. Alfie would pretend not to notice, grumbling as he pruned the flowers or swept away debris, but deep down, their innocent acceptance warmed something inside him.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why had it taken your death for the villagers to stop fearing him? Why did humanity only seem capable of kindness when faced with loss?

For years, the question gnawed at him, but as time wore on, he grew less bitter. He came to accept that this was simply the way of humanity—flawed, fearful, but capable of change, even if it came too late.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the graveyard in hues of gold and amber, Alfie sat beside your grave, his back resting against the weathered stone.

“Y’know, love,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, “I reckon you’d be laughing at me right now. Sitting here all these years, sulking like a bloody fool.”

He chuckled, though it was tinged with sadness.

“They don’t fear me anymore, can you believe that? Took your death to make it happen, though. That’s humanity for ya, innit? Always takes a bloody tragedy to make ’em see straight.”

He leaned his head back, gazing up at the sky as the first stars began to appear.

“But I get it now. People are what they are. Broken, scared, and stupid, yeah, but… they’ve got their moments.”

A breeze rustled the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. Alfie closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the evening settle over him.

“I’ll stay, though. Long as it takes. Make sure they remember you proper. You deserved better, love. But I’ll keep your story alive. Promise.”

And so, Alfie remained, the eternal guardian of your grave. The villagers and their descendants came to see him not as a monster, but as a part of their history, a reminder of the kindness that once bridged the gap between fear and understanding.

In the end, he found a strange kind of peace in his vigil, knowing that even in death, you had left a mark on the world—and on him—that would never fade.

[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.

[onyondump]

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

[call-sign-shark]

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

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

Words: 4k

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

Notes:

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

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

PART ONE || NEXT PART

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

He wanted her. 

Only her.

And he wanted her so bad that it physically hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

But he never did — for he feared hurting her.

And she never dared — Afraid she would curse him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heaven. He’s a Peaky Blinders.” 

“I know Lucy.” 

“And this one is the most dangerous.”

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

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

“Hm.”

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

It was already too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father Hughes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he never did — for he feared losing you.

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

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

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

Peaky Blinders Requests are open.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

[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.

[thepeakygirl]

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

[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.

[wednesdayismyfunday]

Love in the air ( One shot)

Summary : Tommy and y/n in a love bubble

Warnings : fluff

Pairing: Tommy x reader

The house was empty , besides one room. The fire was lit , a glass of red wine was poured . Music playing from the gramophone . Y/n’s eyes closed as she listened to one of her favourite songs . A smile made a way to her face as she thought of all the memories she had with this song. It was her and Tommy’s wedding song. The song was more chipper then the Shelby’s were used . Y/n could still remember all the drunken singing and dancing from the night. She often listened to music when Tommy was at work. Today was like no other . She tended to the horses . Sent her children to school . Helped Ada with the company . Retrieved the kids from school . Ate dinner . Washed them . Sent them to bed. Now she was waiting from Tommy to come home. She knew he was going to be late . He told her as much when he left before the crack of dawn . What she wasn’t expecting was him coming home to her dancing in her night gown.

“ My dear y/n . You have made this day much better.” Tommy said as he leaned against the door.

“ Tommy !!!” Y/n ran and jumped into Tommy’s arms . Tommy caught her with ease . Laughing at his wife. He kissed her ass she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Tommy , you have missed so much ! Marry-Ann had her foul . A strapping boy . And the kids named him Stomper.” Y/n said in between kisses.

“ You’re wearing a new night gown.” Tommy replied.

“ Yes I am. What do you think.” Y/n said as she posed while in Tommy’s arms. Y/n had put on a red lace gown that left little to the imagination.

“ I think we need to have a dance. I need to see you move.” Tommy said as he put y/n down. He bowed and took her hand . He pulled her close and they danced . Y/n and Tommy danced until there feet hurt . At some point even the music stopped but they continued to sway. The fire was dying and a chill began to creep into the room.

“ Tommy , let’s go upstairs , it’s getting chilly and this gown doesn’t have much fabric .” Y/n whispered. Tommy was lost in a trance. All he could muster was a small “okay” . Y/n smiled and held his hand. They walked to their shared bedroom. Tommy’s eyes never wavered from y/n. He was more in love with her every single day. Sometimes he would wake up thinking it was a dream, that he couldn’t have a person like y/n in his life . Then he would hear her grumble in her sleep, or smell her intoxicating scent . He saw it in their children. They had a softness that could only be from their mother.

“ Tommy let’s get you out of these clothes.” Y/n said as she peeled the suit off. She kissed him tenderly as she undressed Tommy.

“ Y/n how did I get so lucky.” Tommy whispered .

“ I’m the lucky one . You are a great husband and an even better dad. Everyday I’m with you feels like I’m reading a book and I never want to put it down.” Y/n gently put Tommy to bed. Kissing him on the forehead . Tommy pulled y/n so that she was laying on top of him. Love was something that couldn’t describe the way they felt for each other . Two hearts beating as one. Souls finally finding each other and melding .

“ You are my everything.”

“ And you are my forever.”

[mrs-bond]

Hi there. I'm looking to make friends and chat with those that like Cillian Murphy, and peaky blinders. Also, I'm obsessed with Cilly as Oppie.

[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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[reiwanwan]

Treat her right

You had just broken up with your boyfriend and now you’re heartbroken. Don’t worry, your best friends Ada thorne and Lizzie Stark are there to make sure you know just how worth it you are.

Ada Thorne x Female!Reader x Lizzie Stark

This was inspired by @vivianleighwishesshewasme and her Grace x female reader fic which I’m obsessed with btw, and it made me want to write for the peaky women esp Lizzie since I don’t really see much fics about her

a/n: I’ve never written anything sensual like this so let me know what you guys think!

Here’s what I listened while writing this so you can listen to it while reading ;)

Content warning: Slight NSFW? take it however you want 🤭

The night started with tears, but Lizzie and Ada had a way of making everything feel manageable, even when your world felt like it was crumbling. After your breakup with your boyfriend, they had dragged you to Ada’s house despite your reluctance with promises of wine, warm company, and a distraction. You loved a good drink after all, only they would know that well.

Now, hours later, the bottle was empty, and the laughter in the room had softened into a quiet, soothing energy. You hadn’t planned on staying too late, but Lizzie had insisted you stay, practically pulling you by the wrist to the couch where she and Ada were already nestled with glasses of wine.

“You can’t leave just yet,” Lizzie said, her voice smooth and teasing. “We’re just getting started, aren’t we, Ada?”

Ada smirked, leaning back with a knowing look. “Oh, absolutely. No one leaves until we say so.”

You laughed, feeling a little out of place but warmed by their affection. The night went on, the wine flowed, and the chatter turned softer, more intimate. The two women were slightly tipsy, uninhibited, their laughter growing louder as their touches grew bolder.

Lizzie, sitting beside you, reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering against your cheek. “You’re so damn beautiful, you know that?” she whispered, her voice low enough that it felt like a secret.

“You’re better off without him,” Lizzie murmured, her voice firm but tender. She tilted her head, studying your face like she was committing every detail to memory. “He didn’t deserve you.”

Ada hummed in agreement. “Definitely didn’t. A man like that wouldn’t know what to do with someone as special as you.”

You sniffled, managing a small smile. “You two always know what to say.”

Lizzie leaned closer, her fingers brushing a tear from your cheek. “We’re not just saying it. You’re too good to let some idiot make you feel small.”

“Exactly,” Ada chimed in, her hands slipping to your shoulders, massaging away the tension. “He’s the one who lost a gem, not you.”

You felt your cheeks flush at their unwavering attention. Lizzie’s thumb traced soft circles on your knee, while Ada’s touch felt grounding, her fingers moving with practiced care. Ada’s fingers moved to trace light circles on your arm, and Lizzie’s thumb brushed over your lips, her gaze lingering there for a moment before she leaned in, her kiss soft and lingering.

“Relax,” Ada whispered, pulling you gently to recline back onto the plush cushions of the couch. Her hands found your hair, undoing the tie that held it up, letting it spill over your shoulders as her fingers combed through it. Lizzie shifted, her hands now resting on your waist, her lips trailing from your temple to your jaw. “Let us take care of you”

They didn’t give you a chance to argue, their touches deliberate and affectionate. Ada pressed a kiss to your neck, her lips soft against your delicate skin as she leaves her lipstick marks on your neck. While Lizzie’s fingers slid under the hem of your dress, tracing lazy patterns along your stomach, your body responding immediately and your whimpers grew more desperate.

“You deserve this,” Ada murmured, her hands cradling your face as she kissed your forehead. Lizzie took your hand in hers, lifting it to her lips to kiss the back of it with a flourish.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Lizzie said once again, her lips curving into a soft smile.

Your laugh came out shaky and slightly breathless. “I don’t really feel like it right now.”

Lizzie shook her head, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “Well, you are. And you’ll believe it soon enough.”

Ada smiled from above you, her fingers tilting your chin so you met her gaze. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ve been holding up for too long,” Lizzie said softly, her voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “Let us take care of you for a change.” Ada nodded, gently guiding you to lie back against the cushions. “Close your eyes dear. Just let us soothe you for a bit.”

Lizzie leaned over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, pressing just long enough to make your heart flutter. “See? Women know what other women need,” she said with a playful grin, her voice laced with affection.

Ada chuckled, leaning down to brush her lips against your other cheek. “Exactly. Men will never get it. But we do”.

You felt lightheaded, a little overwhelmed, but their warmth and softness anchored you. The two women exchanged a look above you, their smiles conspiratorial but full of love for their heartbroken friend.

“Don’t you dare think about leaving,” Ada teased, her hands stroking your hair.

Lizzie pressed another kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer this time. “We’ll let you up eventually.”

“But not until we’re finished spoiling you.”

[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.

[onyondump]

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!