#tommy shelby x sister!oc

[fablesfolklore]

Masterlist

Lilith Rose Shelby Peaky Blinders

Pre-Series 1

First Blood

First Kiss

Series 6

Jealous Man

Post Series 6

In The Graveyard with Lilith Rose Shelby (and Jack Nelson)

[themultifandomgal]

Isaiah Jesus- We’re Getting Married

When I told my brothers that Isaiah and I were getting married, they were not happy. I am the youngest Shelby, as Arthur puts it 'our baby sister'. Thankfully though my brothers came around and now here I stand smoothing down my dress as Esme places my vail in my hair

"You look beautiful YN" Lizzie gushes

"Thank you, but so do you both" I look at Esme and Lizzie through the mirror in front of me

"Ready?"

"Yeah" I smile turning around to Lizzie

"I'll go let Arthur know" she says leaving the room. A few minutes later Arthur knocks the door with his hand over his eyes

"We're all decent you can come in" I tell him. He takes his hand away and I can already see the tears in his eyes "don't cry because you'll make me cry"

"I'm sorry. It's just... my baby sister is getting married"

"Ok no smudging the makeup" Esme says stopping both me and Arthur from crying

"I think Isaiah is waiting" Lizzie places her hands on her hips

"Your right. Come on" Arthur holds his arm out for me to take.

As I wait for the doors to open to reveal Isaiah I start fidgeting

"Don't be nervous"

"I'm not. I'm excited. I love him Arthur"

"I know you do" finally the doors open and in walk Lizzie and Tom, then Esme and John. Then in walk my bridesmaids and finally Arthur walks me to Isaiah who's stood at the end of the aisle looks so freaking good. I notice he's got a tear running down his smiling face which cause me to cry a little. Arthur gives Isaiah my hand then kisses my cheek before taking his seat next to the rest of my family

"Welcome" the priest starts "today we are here to witness the marriage and bond between YN and Isaiah. Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do"

"I do" we both respond

"Before we start. Is there anyone here who has reason that these two should not marry?" Thankfully neither Isaiah or I have to be nervous about anyone standing up "since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church" Isaiah and I hold hands

"I, take you , to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life" Isaiah says looking into my eyes. I repeat what he says

"May the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder. May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God who joined together our first parents in paradise, strength and bless in Christ the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what God joins together, no one may put asunder. receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit. Who has the rings?" The priest asks. Charlie steps forward with both of our rings. Isaiah then takes my left hand

"Receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit" he then places the ring on my finger. I repeat

"Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony. In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss" the room is filled with applause while Isaiah and I share a kiss.

It's now the after party at the Garrison and I've changed into something a little more comfortable so I can dance in. Isaiah and I had our first dance then Arthur clears his throat

"Can I have everyone's attention" I take Isaias hand in mine "I'd like to raise a toast to my sister and now brother in-law. Now when you first starting courting I wasn't happy" this makes us all laugh "in all seriousness though, I saw the way YN looked at you and the way you looked at her. It's a love that can't be ignored. I can't wait to see where life takes you both, but no babies yet I'm still not recovered from this wedding" again this makes everyone laugh "to YN and Isaiah"

"To YN and Isaiah" everyone shouts before we all take a sip of the champagne. I turn to my now husband and look up at him

"I love you"

"I love you too" he leans down and kisses my lips.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Scraped Heart || Victoria Shelby

Summary: Wounded knees hurt more than just the flesh.

Word Count: 2132

Warnings: Description of minor injuries, post war PTSD, Tommy scaring his sister

Author’s note:  So this is set right after the war is over and everyone has gone home, it could be mere weeks or no more than a couple months since everyone was shoved back into their lives. I’ve always imagined those weeks when they are trying to pretend that nothing happened to be extremely awkward and tense, especially for the younger ones, since four years is basically half of their lives they spent in uncertainty.

Thomas dragged his feet across the dusty boards of the hallway. Many nights had transpired the same way, ever since the return; he wandered around aimlessly, his mind disconnected from his body, until he found himself far away from home without memory of how he got there in the first place. That evening he had snapped back to his senses to find himself in the oldest part of the town’s graveyard, where most tombs dated to the prior century, stained green and the engravings faded by time and the elements. He must have stumbled and fell at some point, for his trousers had mud in the knees and his hands were scraped and bruised. A light drizzle had dampened his clothes and trickled down the bare curve of his neck. Nighttime had fallen already, but Tommy swore it had been daytime still when he left Watery Lane.

As he was about to reach his bedroom, a quiet cry and curse from the nursery caught his attention. Nursery, that word still made him snort. That little wooden sign with said word carved with a knife had arrived at the house with the first baby, and had been moved from door to door to whichever bedroom belonged to the youngest. But it wouldn’t be moved again, since there would be no more babies born under that roof, not at least for the foreseeable future. 

The door stood ajar, and Tommy peeked in curiously, shrouded by the darkness of the hallway. Victoria sat on her bed, knees bent in front of her, both scraped and bruised. Around here laid a mess of pieces of bandages, a rusty pair of scissors, some iodine and oddly enough, a bottle of liquor. A most puzzling scene, especially because Tommy would have never expected his eight year old sister to have the maturity to gather all those supplies and hide in her bedroom while injured, instead of crying it out like a normal child. But again, kids raised in the middle of the war were no normal children.

Vicky had a piece of cloth on her hand and tried to dab at her scrapes, but she hissed every time it came in contact with her injury. Tears streamed down her cheeks, carving lines in the dirt of her skin. Tommy just then realised she was covered in grime from head to toe. 

Vicky again made a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the blood on her knees

“Fuck” She hissed

“Oi, language!” Exclaimed Tommy, entering the bedroom. Vicky nearly jumped from the bed when Tommy marched in; he had the ability to be as silent as a cat, which drove everyone insane since he always startled everyone. The girl looked like she had seen a ghost, but there are worse things than a ghost, like being caught doing things you shouldn’t be by your brother-self-appointed-father.

Tommy sat on the edge of the bed while Vicky watched him cautiously, like a prey being sized up by the predator; Victoria had felt odd around Tommy ever since he came back from France, still struggling to get used to this new self, and desperately trying to find scraps of her old brother in this unknown man. They all had changed, in a way, but Tommy’s switch was most obvious. Sometimes the girl wondered if they had sent her back the right man.

“What happened?” The calmness in his voice was edged by the slightest hint of concern, and a dash of curiosity at the maturity of the littlest Shelby. 

“Street puddles are treacherous places” At her words, Tommy felt a strange pang in his heart. Since when did his little sister use big words like “treacherous”? When they left, she could barely even pronounce her own name correctly, and wanted to be up in someone’s arms all day long. Now she spent most of her days out of the home, either at school or roaming the streets with other rascals. She already knew how to read as well, and clearly used her newfound knowledge to say “big girl words” every time she could. 

Tommy grabbed her leg and pulled her close to inspect the wound, earning a squeak from his sister as she was yanked from a sitting position to be flat on the bed. The scrapes were large, but superficial. Something an adult wouldn’t even notice, but for a child of Victoria’s age it meant the end of the world and certain death. Yet his sister sat before him, teary eyed but otherwise calmly carrying herself. Tommy couldn’t recognise her anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell Aunt Pol to help you?”

For an answer, Victoria pointed to the floor, where her once new white stocks laid in tatters, all ripped up and stained with muddy water. Ada had told Polly that buying Victoria something white and delicate would be a waste of money, but she insisted. She wanted everyone to look their best when they picked the boys at the station, and somehow had stuffed Vicky and Finn in their Sunday best, complete with Finn’s hair slicked back and Victoria with ribbons woven in her plaits.

“Do you want my help?” Tommy felt odd at having to ask his eight year old sister if she needed help with something. In his mind this child had barely left the diapers and had no right to be speaking in full sentences and reading and writing.

“I can do it myself” Victoria sat up and grabbed the cloth again, but her hand shook even before she touched her knees. The sun would freeze over before she was finished.

Tommy snatched the cloth from her hands and dripped some iodine on it “It will not kill you to ask for help” He knew this bravado would crumble soon enough, but he couldn’t quite figure out what she was trying to prove.

“Aunt Polly said we have to fend for ourselves now”

Oh.

Tommy knew Pol didn’t say that. She would never say that directly to a child. But he still recalled the conversation when that phrase had been said. Late at night, the four of them sat before the hearth and passed around a bottle of cheap whiskey. They were due to leave at 9 am sharp the following day. Their hairs cut, their weavings packed and ready. Polly had stuffed their pockets with cigarettes and given them a bit of money in case they needed it. Then she prayed for their lives and commanded the three brothers to return, for they had people who loved them and depended on them. She remarked that even though Arthur and Tommy had no kids of their own they still had their responsibilities, because there were still three children under that roof that would now have to fend for themselves.

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how Victoria remembered that. Maybe Polly had said those words again to a neighbour, or to Ada who was old enough to understand; and the little rascal had eavesdropped and gotten the wrong idea. A painful coil tightened around Tommy’s throat; the baby of the house had spent all these years under the impression that she only had herself in the world, even if she didn’t quite understand what that implied. 

Tommy didn’t reply. What could he possibly say? How could he erase from her mind that idea that she had to rely only on herself because everything and everyone else around her were not for granted? He couldn’t say that he would be forever with her, because he knew that was a promise he didn’t know if he could keep.

He gently dabbed the cloth on her knee, earning a hiss and quietly muttered curse from his sister, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

“Don’t let Pol hear you or she will wash your mouth with soap” Tommy swiftly pulled Victoria into his lap so he could hold her better, and to give her the chance to hold onto him. He got to work on cleaning the scrapes, feeling little fingers dig tightly on the fabric of his coat, and he was pretty sure Vicky bit the arm he was using to hold her. 

Once the grime had been wiped away he began to bandage her knees “What is the liquor for?” Tommy inquired curiously, nodding to the almost empty bottle on the bed. The bottle had some cheap hard liquor that they kept in a cabinet for emergencies, and never for drinking. Not that Thomas believed Vicky to be taking swigs of alcohol behind their backs, but the thought was amusing nonetheless.

“I have seen you and Arthur clean up wounds with that” She shrugged “I don’t think I need it thought” She added quickly

Tommy hummed “You couldn’t open it, right”

“Yep”

The faintest ghost of a smile tugged on Tommy’s lips. A big girl with big words and a big attitude but she still didn’t have the strength to open up a bottle, nor had she figured out how to work the house keys, and still wanted to have her food cut up for her. He finished wrapping the bandages and tied them up neat and nicely “Does it feel okay?”

The girl flexed her legs a few times and nodded “I could do that myself” Victoria could never, ever lose the opportunity to try and up her older brothers. Only when she stepped off Tommy’s lap did she notice the dirt in his trousers and the little scraps of his hands “Did you fall too?”

Tommy’s body immediately tensed up and he put his hands down to hide his reddened palms “Yards are treacherous places”

Victoria immediately tried to pull up Tommy’s trousers to take a look, but Tommy held her wrists to stop her, rather harshly. Both of them stood in absolute silence until Tommy let go of her. He hadn’t intended to be so harsh, but sometimes it happened too fast. His wrecked nerves got the best of him, fueled by the fact that never, ever in his life Tommy had allowed anyone to help him; not before the war and certainly not after. 

But he couldn’t be this way with Victoria, not if he wanted to make up for all the years of her life he lost. And especially not now, when with that little gesture, something as simple as showing concern for him, Tommy caught a glimpse of what his sister had always been before she decided to build up walls, just like everyone around her. War had hardened the Shelby brothers, but it didn’t have to do the same to their little ones. 

Just as Vicky straightened up, slowly as if she feared he would snap again, Tommy released a slow breath and pulled his sister into a bone crushing hug, her arms pinned to her sides as he squeezed her in the way he used to do when she was a baby. In the same way he hugged her when he took the train in 1914, and the way he hadn’t hugged her ever since. He kept her there until Vicky squirmed “Tommy you are squeezing me”

“I know”

“....Can you put me down?”

“No”

In that moment, that hug felt like an anchor to the life he once had and the man he used to be; both things now lost to the war machine. The war life had taken him, chewed him up and spat him back out as something new, something he couldn’t recognise and something that would forever be damaged in a way only those who had been chewed too could understand. But somewhere behind layers of trauma, scars, fears and anger lay a sliver of the pre-war Thomas Shelby, an miniscule sliver of a man who once believed the world could be good and kind. And that sliver belonged to Victoria for as long as she lived, so she could once more see the world through a rose tinted lens and never again had to think that she had to fend for herself. And so he could make up for all those missed hugs, cuddles and tickles.

After minutes of maintaining the hug, Tommy stood up and swung his sister over his shoulder. He suddenly had the vitality and energy he had lacked the last weeks. He marched out the room and down the hallway with Victoria over him like a sack of potatoes.

“Where are you taking me?” Inquired Victoria curiously

“To the bathroom. You are a grime ball and if Pol sees you like this, she will have both of our heads”

Victoria’s protests echoed on the walls as she tried to wiggle out of Tommy’s protective arms, laughing and squeaking as Tommy playfully dug his fingers in her ribs to tickle her.

[forevercillianmurphy]

im sorry, tommy shelby.

- warnings: death, swearing, violence.

- word count: 3.7k

- my own timeline since I haven’t watched past season 2 lol

- Tommy x oc sister !

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

rebecca was born on a cloudy day some December 1902, twelve years after the head of the family; thomas shelby was born. ever since that day (and finn's birth) he promised not only himself but his family that he'd take care of them. they were the most important thing in his life, and after the war that never changed. though, it grew harder with the night terrors and feeling as if the two had a bounty on their heads every time they stepped out into good ole birmingham. though, the family never once made it seem that way. the two younglings thought nothing much of it really, thinking that that was how everybody else lived. always having people following them around for protection especially if arthur, john or tommy could not be there. so when rebecca turned 20 in 1922, she did not understand why she couldn't come 'out' to society, like everybody else her age. she did not realize how dangerous it was. because again, her and finn had lived in a bubble; something that polly made sure of.

˚ · .·˚

the very night she returned home from school that spring, rebecca was fuming, teeth seething and hair falling out of her braided bun, "why on earth can i not take part in the event tom! how else am i supposed to be seen as an adult and not a child?" she demanded, hands on her hips. tommy had watched his youngest sister scream and shout, pull at her hair for the better part of the hour. once she had realized her name wasn't on the list of the debutant ball, she quickly came home to give a piece of her mind to the head of the family. he said nothing, just watching. she stopped her frantic movements, turned back towards tom and shrugged. she was simply giving up, something that she never did. because she was a shelby, fighting till the very last second. tom saw the defeatedness wash over her like a waterfall, and then saw the tears forming in her eyes. oh how he hated to see her or finn cry, especially at the expense of him. she shook her head, knowing he was about to stand up or say something, and she put her hand up. "you don't want me out there, fine. but just know that i will resent you for the rest of my life as i go leave for university this upcoming fall." she paused beginning to walk out. she took one last look at him, "and just know that i wont come back to this shitty hell hole." and with that she left. tom sat there for a few minutes finishing his whisky and freshly lit cigarette. he sighed, looking up at the ceiling knowing that polly was going to be giving him an earful right about - now.

"thomas michael shelby, what the hell is wrong with you?" she quipped, slamming his office door and shaking his now iced glass. "pol-" she cut him off, "don't poll me, boy." she stated promptly and he knew to shut up. "your sister is this close, this close!" she said emphasizing with her fingers. "to slipping away, and do you really want that? really want that boy?" she seethed, "i don't care what you have to say thomas but she is going to that ball whether you like it or not." she said standing her ground, and he knew it was golden. one to be left untouched. he sighed, "but its dangerous." he stated and she shook her head. "if its so dangerous, find a way to make it not dangerous! you have this whole empire, use it for something good." she stated before walking out. tommy rubbed his eyes, before standing up to go speak to arthur and john, who no doubt would be at the garrison. he knew deep down, he had to let rebecca do this and if he didn't he no longer would have a sister.

˚ · .·˚

rebecca brushed her hair as finn her little brother by 7 years, went on and on about his day at school. she giggled at naiveness and plain stupidness him and his little friends possessed. yet she adored it, and how they still saw life in the most purest form. rebecca on the other hand, her world slowly began cracking a year ago. she accidently walked into the garrison during a 'family meeting' that was in the back and therefore they hadn't heard her. then as they believed her to be sleeping, she heard more speaking and whispers late one night. the world she once saw was not what she saw now. she realized how dark, cruel and unforgiving it could be. so it came to no surprise when her name was not on the damn list but a huge part of her wish it had been. she wanted to be like every other university girl in this town, but she was afraid she'd never be. "alright fi, time to get to bed." she smiled turning around in her vanity chair. fi was a little nickname she gave to him one cold night during the war and it had stuck between the two since. "i don't want to." he huffed, crossing his arms. "you have to, it is quite late. don't let our big scary brother find out i let you stay up past your bedtime." she grinned, running over and tickling him. finn's laugh filled up the room, alerting the whole house he was still awake. francis smiled as she tidied up the kitchen. tommy stirred in his cat nap, feeling a ginormous headache coming on. but as he listened to the laughter and shrieks coming from upstairs his heart softened. his cold and locked heart, always swelled just a bit more when he heard finn's laugh. a contagious one at that.

rebecca shooed the boy after a minute, and wrapped her arms around the almost 13 year old boy. "i cant believe you're going to be 13 in a few days." she hummed, and he started to squirm in her arms. "oi don't become a teenager just yet." she giggled, and he stopped fidgeting. the two sat on her bed for a few minutes more before deciding it was time to get him to bed, "come on love, time to go to sleep." she said letting him get off of her lap. he yawned, and she grinned knowing full well he'd been trying to hide his exhaustion so the two could stay up just a bit more to talk. rebecca was truly all finn knew, he was only 8 when the boys went off to war and when they came back it was a shell of what they had been. rebecca cared for him like he was her own for as long as she could remember. just as tommy thought of her and finn as his own, sometimes. "come on." she whispered, taking ahold of his hand and walking towards the conjoined rooms that were separated by a thin wall and door.

tommy heard from his office the fight that finn was putting up and then it stopped, and he smiled softly knowing his exhaustion finally won. he'd always have trouble getting finn to sleep especially when everybody was over but rebecca - becs - always had a way with him. she was soft, kind, heart warming and gave the best hugs in the world. oh, and a cookie here and there. he looked at the grandfather clock in his office and decided it was late enough, and that he'd finish everything in the morning. he slowly walked upstairs, saying goodnight to francis and he stopped without knowing in front of rebecca's door. he heard her mingling about, getting ready for the next morning and trying to find her one book she'd hid without realizing. he knocked softly on her door, and she knew who it was. she walked over to her door, and opened it to reveal and tired and somewhat bothered tom shelby. she rolled her eyes, and walked towards her bed. he took that as a cue to walk in, and she faced him once she sat on her bed. she sat pretzel style, waiting for him to speak.

"becs, there are things-" she cut him off, "cut the bullshit tom. i don't want excuses." she said coldly and his eyebrows knit together in confusion and then in understanding. "you know?" he asked almost in disbelief and she rolled her eyes again, nodding. "when?" he asked, trying to figure out when she'd heard things. "the garrison last September, right before university started. then again over winter break, here at the house. and then last week when i woke up from a nap." she explained and he stood there processing it. "i know you've tried to keep me and finn safe but tommy." she paused, and he looked up at the nickname. "you cant keep my cooped up here forever. i cant live like this nor will you be able to when I've turned this house upside down." she said a bit lightheartedly. he grinned, "its not like you haven't don't that already." and she smirked. "i am the only female in this bloodline, it was to be expected." she smiled, a genuine smile. "and the only blonde and blue eyed one." he said and she pointed at him, in agreement. he looked down, and thoughts plagued his mind. "tommy...i need to do this. you need to let me do this, i cant stay in birmingham forever. i want a life outside of this place, i dream of faraway places. i dream of chicago or los angeles, i dream of a air so clean it hurts. i dream of a place where i don't fear to step out of my house, where i can be who i want to be, wild and free." she paused as tommy looked up. "i want the fairytales mum used to say and the one's aunt pol spoke about...i want my prince charming far, far away from here. you-you need to let me go tommy. or ill never escape this thing- this place." she said saying the words he'd longed to hear. just not the america part.

"okay." he simply stated, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "ok-ay?" she questioned, and he nodded. "okay." he repeated. she felt her heart flutter and butterflies grow with excitement. she jumped off the bed, and threw her arms around the usually stone cold brother. he froze for a second before chuckling, and wrapped his arms around his baby sister. "thankyou thankyou." she said genuinely, feeling as if she was on top of the world. until she wouldn't be.

˚ · .·˚

rebecca walked down the stairs to find michael and aunt polly waiting for her, at the bottom. because her brothers were out of the age frame, it was determined that michael would 'send her off' and accompany her that evening. she smiled at michael who truly was her brother, as the two had stuck with one another during the war. and being so close with aunt polly, cemented it further. finn shouted from the top steps as michael was about to walk out with her. "becca wait!" he screamed, and she turned around to see her kid brother rushing to hand her a single rose. she knew exactly where he got it from, mrs.hanovers front garden two blocks over. "oh bubba, thankyou." she smiled hugging him. "i hope you have a good time tonight, and break a lot of hearts." he joked and she giggled nodding. "i love you, don't forget that." finn said pulling her in one last time. she smiled, "i love you too fi." she said before kissing his cheek and michael retook her arm. he hooked his other arm on pollys and the three left finn with franics.

the shelby boys and their partners were already at the grand hall, polly walking in shortly before rebecca and michael would walk in after being announced. he looked down at his cousin who practically was his sister at this point, and he saw the nerves beginning to seep over. she could not shake the feeling of dread, and one of fear. she had woken up during the night in a terror, finn quickly running over to check on her. he'd found her in a cold sweat, heart and mind racing. he held her as she shook, not understanding what her mind was fighting. thoughts so unfathomable for her, and one's that would not be dared to be spoken. michael rubbed her arm, and that comforted the blonde. "thankyou michael again, for doing this." she smiled up at her younger cousin - by only a year he liked to joke. he nodded kissing her temple, and she held on tightly to the rose finn had given her.

polly on the other side of the curtain found the boys and their partners, nodding to tommy who stood just a little taller. grace at his side, smiled softly knowing polly had settled his nerves just a bit. the crowd turned their attention toward the debutants and their partners. the crowd gushed, oohed and ahhed over the affair. it was now rebecca's turn, and she felt butterflies flooding her body. michael winked at her and then they walked out. rebecca's champagne-colored dress dazzled the crowd, her blue stone necklace glinting just a tiny bit in the light. rebecca amelia shelby, the girl who shall not be named was finally being seen by many. the shelby girl kept in the shadows for most of her life, raised by her kid brother and so called addicted aunt, had barely seen the light of day for school. let alone, the slum of birmingham. she smiled widely as the crowd clapped for her like they did for every other young lady tonight. michael walked her over towards the family as he had spotted them rather quickly, while rebecca was lost in her own world. they turned towards the family, as the crowd murmured about the young girl. she would not be forgotten, not now and not ever.

they walked up to the group and john quickly hugged rebecca, then arthur and then tommy who only nodded at her. oh for the love of appearances, rebecca silently cursed. aunt polly gushed about her dress and entrance, to which grace and esme agreed. rebecca thanked the women and turned around to look at the two debutants who had just been introduced. she politely clapped, and quickly found her best friend, olivia who Michael had become quite fond of. "please excuse me." rebecca said to the group before walking over to her and brother. "if it isn't miss beauty-" olivia started, "miss grace-" rebecca giggled. the two had recently become quite fond over america and the idea of the west, and what it could possess. their interest peaked when they saw there was a miss america pagenet and olivia was smitten. "miss united states." olivia whispered the last part causing rebecca to laugh loudly. "so did you tell him?" olivia questioned, eyeing tommy who was also eyeing the two. rebecca shrugged, "you didn't tell him?" olivia eyes went wide. rebecca shook her head, "its not like you haven't talked about since the very day you turned 18 and we were roommates." olivia said as a matter of factly. rebecca sighed, "its not that easy you know him, you know them. they'll never let me go. besides i told him about it awhile ago but i know he hates the idea of me in chicago or los angeles without them." rebecca stated and olivia rolled her eyes. "if i didn't love you as much as a sister, i'd march right up to him and go ballistic. y'know that?" olivia smirked and rebecca nodded. she'd been keeping her best friend at bay for months now.

"besides i just got archie to come with us when we do hit the west." olivia said cheekily and rebecca's eyes went wide. it was true, rebecca was smitten the older boy of two years. she had been for years, and olivia loved to tease her about it. "he's going?" rebecca in a whisper and olivia nodded, "he said he couldn't let his little sister fend for herself without him." and rebecca laughed loudly and boldly at this. arthur and john looked over along with tommy who'd been eyeing her the whole conversation. "see shes having a great time, tommy boy." arthur said clapping a hand on his shoulder. to which, tommy shoved off.

"maybe ill have to get michael to come with or at least visit us until you see how madly in love he is with you." rebecca giggled like a little girl. "rebecca amelia." olivia prompted, and rebecca clicked her tongue. "you twisted girl." olivia said sipping her champagne fluke, and archie gave one to rebecca. she smiled at him and thanked the hazel eyed boy who smiled back at her. "whos the rose from?" olivia asked and rebecca smiled, "finn." she said and olivia gushed. "that's so cute where'd he steal it from?" she teased and rebecca laughed. "mrs hanouver two blocks east." and olivia gasped, "that little grifter." olivia said about finn, and rebecca rolled her eyes. she looked back to see her family dispersing just a bit, while tommy and grace stood in the same place talking to another older couple. "i should head back, but i will see you later...at the after party?" she whispered the last part, and olivia smirked. "don't you know it." she smirked, and then rebecca turned towards archie. "as always it is a pleasure." he smiled, taking her hand in his and kissing it. her cheeks turned crimson and she let it fall to her side before turning around and walking towards tommy and grace. he turned towards her, as she walked up to them. he stopped the conversation short, and grace went to go find polly. tommy gave his sister his full attention, and she smiled. "see? that wasn't so bad." she teased, taking his outstretched arm. he chuckled, knowing that the threat of life was not over and done for the evening.

"so what do you think of the idea of a trip out west this winter?" she said gaging his response. "i heard al capone is a great guy." she teased and he chuckled briefly. he'd been in contact with guys in new york and new jersey and knew just how great of a guy he was. somebody just like tommy but even worse. "tell me why you know who capone is?" he questioned softly and she shrugged, and tommy rolled his eyes now. "oi! don't be rolling your eyes at me." she playfully joked and tommy could not help but crack a little bit more. he just laughed, as the crowd began to disperse into the bigger ballroom to have dinner and have some dancing. tommy and rebecca stood their for a brief moment, looking at one another. he pulled a piece of stray blonde hair behind her ear and questioned softly, "when did you grow up?" and she blushed. "i did a long time ago tommy..you just didn't want to notice." she smiled softly. despite all of the rules and regulations he imposed on her once he came back from the war, she wouldn't have had it any other way. the amount of nights in she received with finn from tommy, and her brothers were ones she was going to cherish. "tommy." she said just as he was about to take another step towards the grander ballroom. he looked back and saw nerves and anxiety plagueing her features. he tried searching her eyes but came up short, "i wanted to let you know that i wasn't joking when i was talking about going west." she began and he felt her slipping, slipping from his fingers. "i am going west once i graduate this spring, olivia and i will be going together." she said not sure of his response. but she never got it. as soon as tommy opened his mouth, he looked forward and saw the commotion that he had worried about. an italian mobster outstretched his hand with a silver weapon, pointing it at tommy. for it to only hit rebecca instead as arthur pushed him over.

chaos rose throughout the hall, as tommy screamed. rebecca fell in his arms as he had tried to push her back behind him. her champagne dress now crimson red. she looked up at tommy, as he cradled her in his arms. she could not hear a thing, as she looked up at him. as he yelled for an ambulance, for somebody to help. she pulled his face to look towards her's, eyes swelling with tears in her blue eyes. she knew these were her last moments, and she did not want them to be filled with the ceiling but on somebody she loved. could of been arthur, michael, finn- anybody. her hand finally unclutched the single rose as polly kneeled down. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry!" tommy cried looking down at rebecca. he cried, as she was losing her grasp on this world. arthur was the first one to look back at his sister, then john and then michael. it was as if time was frozen, as the four men in her life watched her breathing her last few breathes. "im sorry." tommy whispered again, words spitting with salty tears. rebecca shook her head, "you did-did everything you thought was right. i-i-i could never fault you for that tommy." she said slowly and brokenly. "i love you so much, tommy." she cried out, and that made tommy cry even harder. "i love you too, blondie." he sobbed. arthur fell to his knees, as rebecca slowly took one last breathe; fighting gravity as her chest weighed down. once tommy realized she'd stop breathing, he lost it. his sister was not supposed to leave this world at the hands of his doings. she was supposed to live a long beautiful life somewhere far away from here, with her two kids, dog and husband she'd long to have. she was supposed to get out of this place and never look back. she was never meant to have her demise be here in birmingham.

tommy cluthed his sister's lifeless body as his world was breaking. polly clung to michael who'd now kneeled beside her. arthur sobbed face down and john grabbed ahold of olivia as she tried to see where her best friend was.

rebecca amelia shelby, the long lost daughter of the shelby clan, the one who shall not be named would be named forever in this town of birmingham.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

oh my goodness!!!!! i hope you all enjoyed, and if you did so please like, comment and repost-- i will love u forever xx

also not me playing the titanic suite medley and crying at the end lol

[evita-shelby]

Beware the Ides of March!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

[cassie48]

•Safe and sound•

Pair: oc x Thomas shelby (platonic)

Warning: attempts of kidnapping, violence, crying, use of a gun

𝗥𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗯𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗺, 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀. 𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

Rose shelby was an energetic six year old. She loved horses, dolls, her aunt and her older brothers. Tommy was her favorite, though she wouldn’t dare tell the others. He was like a father to her, because she didn’t even know her real father properly. She didn’t remember her brothers very well before the war, but when they returned home, it’s like she remembered them instantly.

This morning she woke up with one thing she was determined to do.

All the Shelby family were sitting at the table eating breakfast, when suddenly they heard light footsteps coming from the stairs.

“Tommy”? Questioned little rose.

“I’m here rose” thomas answered his little sister. She ran straight to him with a smile on her face. The hugged his leg then reached her arms up. This is what she did when she wanted to be picked up.

“Come on” thomas said placed his sister in his arms.

“What do you want for breakfast rose”? Thomas asked the six year old.

“I don’t mind” said the girl.

“Here rose have the end of my bread” Ada, her sister says.

Thomas walked over to the table and placed little rose on one of the chairs. “Morning sleepy head” said her aunt polly.

“Morning pol” said rose, while eating her breakfast. She greeted her other brothers and finished her meal.

“Polly? Can I ask you something” Said the girl.

”sure love” answered her aunt.

“Please please please let me play with my dolly’s on the street” the girl asked with a pleading look on her face.

“You know Tom doesn’t like you doing that missy” Polly said with a knowing look.

“But he’s at the pub. Please pol please” she begged.

“Fine, but only for an hour”, she said sternly

The girl quickly ran to get dressed and picked out her dolls. She always wanted to do this, but Tommy never let her.

“Bye Polly” the girl shouted.

“Be back soon” Polly said.

“Ok” is all the girl said as she headed out the door. She was a little worried that Tommy would be mad at her. He always said that it was too dangerous to play on the street at her age.

The small girl played on the street with her favorite dolls with a huge smile on her face. Suddenly she realised she had to go home, before she got in trouble.She then realised she had lost one of her dolls. She quickly searched the street, but couldn’t find her. So she went around the corner to search there too. Suddenly a huge man came out, towering above her.

“You’re the Shelby girl aren’t you”the man said in a mean voice.

She nodded not knowing what she was getting herself into.

“Come with me, I have a lovely surprise for ya” the man said.

Despite how much rose loved surprises, she was feeling a little frightened right now. “She nodded her head no and said “Tommy wouldn’t like that”. She then turned to walk away.

“Oi, I said your coming with me” the man shouted, grabbing her arm.

“Ow, that hurts”the girl cried, feeling pain in her arm.

This only made the man angrier, as he let go of her arm, a slapped her right cheek.

The girl began to start crying and shouting for her brother.

The man went to grab her again,when suddenly rose saw him get shot in the head.

The girl began to scream until she saw her big brother in front of her.

“Rose, its alright” Tommy said placing his arms around her.

“He was trying to take me Tom” she replied letting out a loud sob

“It’s ok, I’m here” he said to her, as he picked her up.

“I’m scared Tom” the girl said with a frown on her face.

“I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you, alright”?he says hugging her tighter

She nodded in his arms, and they went back home together

Safe, and sound.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴!

𝗹𝗺𝗸 𝗶𝗳 𝗶 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀💕💕

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter seventeen

"No, no Ada, don't you try to calm me down, I won't calm down alright I won't calm down not whilst she's out there right..."

I stopped dead at the sound of Tommy's gritted teeth voice, a quiet and cutting tirade against Ada in the next room. I could see them through the open door and though for a moment I'd hoped he wouldn't see me, when I recognised the anxiety in them both my own nervous curiosity got the better of me.

The hallway tiles were cold and my bare feet stuck to them as I stood there, my wet hair dripping, cold water trickling from my shoulder to be soaked up by my damp sweater.

"Fen!" he spoke sharply, his eyes locked with mine a little desperate. This was as close to panic as I'd ever seen on Tommy and as Bonnie came to a halt just behind me, his hand on my lower back must have felt the fearful shiver which shot through me when my brother called out to me.

Ada caught his arm with the back of her hand, a short sharp shock which made him soften his tone, lower his voice just enough to lull me into a false sense of security.

"Fen," he said again softer this time than before, "come here a minute sweetheart, come talk to us.." he said beckoning me in with his hand and a pair of eyes which told me not to ask any questions. It was a look i recognised on Tommy, the brother who had always believed "do as I say not as I do."

"What is it Tommy, why do..." I started but when I did as he said and came to stand before him, looking up at him with trepidation in the wobble of my bottom lip he shushed me, a finger to his lips.

I shot a glance over my shoulder to see Bonnie still stood there, leaning in the doorframe, quietly surveying the situation himself. He wore a small frown, his eyes dark as he watched me standing before my brother, shrinking into myself.

"Want you to listen very carefully to me now eh Fen, cause this is very important alright? Whatever your sisters told you eh, whatever secrets shes asking you to keep for her I need you to tell me now..."

"What?"

"Tommys right Fen... For once.." said Ada, "whatever Sylvie's doing, wherever she's gone off to Tommy needs to know... The Italians are..." but I'd stopped listening to them the moment that one word had left Ada's lips. My stomach sunk like a stone. Gone.

"What do you mean gone?"

"Come on Fen don't be like this eh, haven't got time for any tricks, just tell us where she's gone so we can..."

"She's gone? What do you fuckin mean she's gone Tommy?" I asked my heart racing away from me, my whole world shrinking around me, making me feel so much smaller than everyone else as I looked between Ada, Bonnie and my brother. They all wore the same dark look, one of knowing. Like they knew something I didn't. Like they were worried about things I couldn't even dream of worrying about.

Ada held herself, arms crossed over her chest as she let out a sigh and shook her head, tried to be sympathetic when she turned her sorry eyes on me.

"I know you want to protect your sister Fen but tellin Tommy where she's gone, that will protect her... Whatever she's doing she ain't gonna be in trouble..."

"Well that depends what she's fuckin doin..." smirked John earning a wack around the back of the head from Arthur. I hadn't noticed the two of them sitting side by side on the sofa, John with his legs kicked out, laid back as you like. Arthur pale as a sheet, looking like he might be about to kill someone.

"Fen," said Tommy his impatience beginning to show, his jaw tight, his eyes dark and threatening a frozen hell, "no secret keepin in this family eh, wheres your sister?"

"I..." I didn't know what to say to him, didn't want them to think I was lying to them, couldn't tell them the whole truth. "I don't know Tommy... I haven't seen her since this morning in the... What do you mean she's gone?" I couldn't get my head around it, couldn't get the words to sink in.

She couldn't be gone. She couldn't have just left without saying a word, without even warning me so that I at least might know she was safe. Of course it occurred to me that this interrogation might have been exactly the reason for Sylvie to leave without saying goodbye to me, even so, it didn't make it any less lonely to learn that she'd left me there alone. I felt alone then, my older siblings eyes all starring me down. Ada disbelieving, her eyes widening with frustration as she met mine. She mouthed something to me but I couldn't make it out. Couldn't concentrate on anything because my sister was gone and no one would tell me what was going on.

"She's fucking gone Sonya! Now what part of gone do you not understand?" snapped Tommy his voice never raising above that quiet and steady monotone. His eyes and the sudden sharp of his tongue startling me. I flinched but didn't dare humiliate myself by averting my gaze, remained stubbornly starring him down, fingers digging into the palm of my hand as I clutched at the sleeves of my sweater and held on for life.

"Sylvia's gone right, she's not here. She's taken her things and she's fucking gone which means she's putting not only herself but the whole fucking family in danger so you're going to stop this childish nonsense now eh little sister and you're going to stop fuckin lying for her..."

"Tommy!" scolded Ada though he cut her off before she could make her weak defence.

"No Ada, we don't keep secrets in this family," he said stepping up so close to me that I had to tip my head back just to meet his gaze. He towered above me and even with his slight build he shadowed me completely. Made me feel terribly small.

"No fuckin secrets," he said pointing down at me, his finger too close to my eyes, impossible not to wince away from. But I held my ground, blood run cold feeling smaller by the second.

My words weren't supposed to come out a whisper but they did. I wasn't sure whether it made them easier to believe or not.

"You already know my secrets." I said quietly, voice trembling like the rest of me as I glared up at him, resisting the urge to blink, feeling the sting of the tears I was trying to hold back. I knew the moment I closed my eyes they'd all come flooding out.

Tommy turned away from me then, his finger still pointing accusatory between my eyes.

"For fuck sake," he muttered, snapping his fingers at our brothers, nodding for one of them to get up and join him. As if having two of them stare me down would open me up.

But they couldn't have got the truth from me even if I'd wanted to hand it to them, because I didn't know it myself. And it was that fact that was really breaking my heart. Not the confirmation that Tommy didn't trust us, didn't really see us as being part of the family in the way our other siblings were. It was the realisation that Sylvie didn't trust me. That we'd been keeping secrets from another for too long. That somehow, sometime very recently, the gemini thread between us had been pulled to tight and had snapped. That she didn't think she could tell me about this, this wild, fucking reckless great escape, it meant we weren't as close as we once were. As I'd always believed we would be.

"John, get up for fuck sake, fuckin talk to your sister..." Tommy waved his hand, beckoned John towards us, who did as Tommy bid with a sigh and a roll of his eyes.

"If she ain't tellin you she ain't tellin me," shrugged John, a lazy smirk on his lips as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his joggies and looked down at me. A conspiratorial light in his eyes, a smirk designed to make me believe he was on my side, not Tommys. It was the sort of smirk I'd believed in one too many times as a child playing tig and had learnt to be wary of long ago now.

"Right Fen, now you 'eard our big brother eh, Sylvie might be in trouble yeah so no coverin for her..."

"What happened to snitches get stitches?" I glowered up at him, sullen watery eyes determined to remain on the chic side of tragic.

"Jesus fuckin christ S..." snapped Tommy, his shout met by John's in an instant.

"Oi! Don't fuckin shout at her!"

One brothers hand shooting out to catch the others wrist before Tommy could snatch at my sweater and petrify me.

"She's fuckin lying to us John! Her sisters god knows where and she's fuckin laughin at us!"

"She's not fuckin laughin at you Tom! Look at her! Fuckin look at her you're terrifyin her!" John cried, all his anxiety and distress forcing their way out of him then. His spit flecking Tommy's cheek as he got between me and our older brother so that I was no longer forced to look up into Tommys unforgiving eyes.

"I'm not a fuckin liar Tom!" I said quietly, my voice probably going unheard as my brothers teetered on the edge of a fight.

"Maybe she should be scared eh John, maybe she should be fuckin scared..." said Tommy standing down, his finger no longer pointed, his jaw no longer clenched tight and sharp.

"Is Isaiah with her?" I asked then, my voice quiet, still shaking as I looked around the room and realised he wasn't there with them. It gave me a glimmer of hope see, to think that wherever she was, whatever reckless way she was choosing to endanger herself, Isaiah was with her. Someone I could trust to take care of her, someone who knew what she was like, what she might be capable of. Someone she wouldn't be able to surprise as easily as perhaps she expected...

But when Tommy shook his head my stomach dropped.

"He's not here," he said, "but theres no way to know for sure that he's with her..."

"And if we find out he's let her boss him around like you did when you were little..." grinned Arthur making John chuckle. Making even Tommy crack the most fleeting of smirks.

"Alright boys enough posturing..." warned Ada, one last look to me, begging me to tell them the truth, sympathetic though because she could tell I really did know nothing, "but your brothers are right Fen, if she tries to..."

"Left her phone here didn't she," grumbled Arthur earning a giggle from Ada who cut him off scrunching her nose up at him.

"Alright old man, don't just use phones to talk to people now do we..." She said before announcing that she was going to check on Karl. That after that she was going to check on Pol who's absense suddenly seemed strange to me until Tommy told Ada where she was.

"Not by you perhaps."

"She doesn't want to be disturbed..." he said locking eyes with Ada who turned him down without a second thought.

🌼🐻🌼

When Ada left the rest of us remained quiet and still but only for a moment. John sat back down, legs stretched out long, one crossed over the other. Hands shoved in his pockets. His gloomy doomed eyes looked to his brothers, the three of them waiting for the other to speak up.

Tommy stood, still close to me, holding his chin in his hand. When he moved away from me, paced to the window and took out a cigarette I longed to ask if I could have one too.

I watched Arthur as he sighed and joined Tommy in the window. I watched John as he copied from where he sat leaning back into the settee. The three of them blew smoke out of sync, slowly clouding the little room with thin whisps of grey.

"Have you spoken to me da?" asked Bonnie, his voice disturbing the quiet.

John was looking at me but with the distance of someone who couldn't see at all. His skin was pale with worry and his freckles only seemed to add to the nauseous grey my sister had painted him with.

He was standing just behind me, I could feel him there just to the left of my shoulder, it should have felt too close but it wasn't. If anything I felt my fingers resisting the urge to reach for his. To hold his hand if not only to have an ally.

"Sent Johnny Dogs and Charlie out with some men to search nearby. We need your dad and your family to stay close to the house... Need to work under the assumption that this is the work of the Italians and, if it is, Sylvie's the distraction and the worst is yet to come..."

I couldn't help but notice how he changed when he spoke to Bonnie. So matter of fact, so business like. Bonnie couldn't really have been so much older than me for Tommy to see a difference and yet, it was only I who was spoken to like a child. Only I who found herself left out of the wordless conversations which surrounded me at all times when I was with my brothers.

"This is the Italians?" I asked turning to Tommy with wide eyes, eyes which should have shown him the truth I was telling him.

"We don't know so we have to prepare for the worst Fen..." he said, "thats why its important you ain't keepin any secrets... If you know something Sonya..."

"I don't," I cut him off, my voice sharp and defensive. A tightness in my throat which made it difficult to breath or to speak without showing how much it hurt. Without showing how scared I was.

I stood trembling, resisted the urge to wrap my arms around my waist and hold myself but only for a moment. When I crumbled seconds later I couldn't hold myself tight enough. Couldn't stop the cold which gripped me.

"The worst..." I said stopping myself before I could say anymore, before I could make myself cry.

"Bonnie," said Tommy with a sigh, "why don't you help Fen to her room eh, she's upset, looks tired..." he said holding his hand up to quiet me when I tried to protest, "if you can't tell us where she's gone you can't help us Fen so it'd be better if you went upstairs eh, got some sleep... Somewhere safe."

I knew I couldn't argue. I didn't have the heart to argue anymore anyway. So numb with shock, with disappointment. With the cold feeling that chills your bones and slows your mind right down so that you can't process anything that scares you.

All I could do was stand there, holding myself, trying to hold myself together for long enough to look the three of them in the eyes and tell them why it really hurt.

When Bonnie's fingers skimmed mine I let mine slip between his as if tugged on by a magnetic force drawing us together.

"You don't trust me, yet you think Sylvie would..."

No one said a word but I felt his other hand come to rest on my shoulder, the gentle squeeze an attempt to lure me back to life. It was just enough to remind me I wasn't totally see through. That even if my brothers were looking through me, I was there. A real girl with a real broken heart.

He squeezed my hand too, his hand swallowing mine whole, fingers locking over my knuckles like a protective shell and when he tugged gently on my arm I moved as if in a trance. I was watching Tommy still and as I drifted backwards out through the door I'd been lured through under false pretences earlier that evening, I remained with my eyes fixed on John's dull ones, willing him to look at me with some kind of recognition.

We let the door close behind us and at the foot of the stairs Bonnie stopped.

"Do you mind me coming with you?" he asked looking back over his shoulder down the hallways, "into your room like... I don't mind just hangin around outside... Get me a little stool, set up me camp.

"Its fine," I said softly, my throat aching with the pain of every word I forced through it.

"Are you sure..."

"I'm sorry if I upset you earlier lass..." he said, his own speech stunted too, awkward because it sounded as though he were holding back.

"Uhuh," I said ever so quietly then, holding onto his hand a little tighter than he was holding onto mine.

"Its fine," I said trying to regain a little self confidence, trying to steady the shake in my voice when I stopped outside the bedroom doorway and turned, back up against the door, with a self depricating smile, shy eyes I didn't really know I had. "Told you didn't I, I cry all the time..."

As if he had a lot more to say than he was allowing himself to.

I leant back against the door feeling the give and sway as it opened behind me and my body leaning against it pushed it open.

"Take Sylvie's bed if you like," I said chewing my cheek as I slid down to the floor at the foot of my own bed. I'd been going to try and stretch out the tight doomy feeling in my shoulders and spine but when my legs bent and I felt my skirt skim the floor I gave in, just let my bum hit the floor with a quiet thump. Sat there gazing at the window, the rooms reflection overlayed by the dark of the gardens at night like something out of a 90s coming of age movie.

"Don't think I'll be doing much sleeping somehow," he chuckled choosing, rather than to go to the window or to do as I'd said and throw himself down on Sylvies bed, but instead to slide down to the floor beside me. To link our fingers once more and sit by my side in quiet solidarity.

"You don't know where she is?" he asked, already knowing the answer, no raised brow, just a downcurving smirk and a nod when I shook my head.

"No," he said with a little smile, nudging me in the ribs, "no more than any other Shelby eh..." but I knew from his teasing little grin that he really did believe me. That the ally I'd hoped to find downstairs had been found in him.

"I'm not a liar," I said again and he nodded seeming to think about it but only really for a second or two.

[interstellargatorskinboots1812]

Chapter 13: The Rush of Blood

Alfie feels sweat trickling down his back, his eyes lacerate into the interloper in front of him, who dirties and taints the elegant hall as if by osmosis.

Michael McCleary. To Arabella, just a name scrawled in Tommy’s handwriting, but now here he stands, a short and stout man with filth escaping his every pore.

‘You’ve been ignoring my calls and letters, Solomons.’

His Scouse twang echoes strongly in the affluent surroundings.

‘Yeh well there’s a very good reason for that, ain’t there?’

Alfie’s stiff shoulders and heavy-set back, wrap an unwelcome presage around Arabella, as if confirming Tommy’s suspicions that the High Rip gang have prior dealings with her fiance.

Swiping a cocktail from a reluctant waiter, Michael smirks and downs the alcohol. He bites aggressively, with what few teeth he has left,  into the cherry that decorates his glass.

‘I don’t like being ignored you see. It gets me all angsty.’

He putters the cherry stem.

‘Maybe I need to get me a good looking tart like yours? Bet she helps relieve the tension at night, doesn’t she?’

With a filthy leer, Michael flicks the tied stem down Arabella’s cleavage. Reacting almost before Alfie has the chance to form a fist, she pulls back his hand.

‘Stop, think where you are and who is around you. It’s just what this fucker wants. Don’t play into his hands.’

Alfie grunts a response, the blood bouncing in his veins in abundance.

‘She speaks a lot of sense, you should listen to her’.

‘She has a name, you know’.

Michael’s laugh fills the darkening space.

‘Oh I know your name, Ms Arabella Shelby. I know all about you and your family. Modern day Romeo and Juliet, you two are. Star-crossed lovers from opposite ends of the trotting tracks.. .  and well  . . . we all know how that tale ends’.

With a calming composure, Alfie’s bulky shadow casts shade over the Liverpudlian’s pockmarked face.

‘You might be better served expressing your profound views on literature to someone who gives a fuck, mate. You waltz in here thinking you’re a brave lad, when we all know that the only reason you are still stood vertically, thieving my oxygen is because I am choosing not to put a bullet in that thick skull of yours. Now tell me what you’re ‘ere for and then you can fuck off or I will  stick my boot so far up your arse that you’ll fly back to Liverpool and hit the Mersey with a breathless sense of having tumbled like Icarus from the sky’.

Michael’s delusive grin cultivates his face, Alfie’s resolute words land beside him like a grenade with the pin still attached. The malodour of old garbage fires thrives from their unwelcome guest and as foul in her nostrils as it is, Arabella inhales deeply in an effort to slow her breathing.

Michael’s drawing quite the crowd.

‘Alfie is right, make your point and then fuck off’.

‘Bad words from such a beautiful broad- be careful none of these toff-nosed Jews hear it. You wouldn’t want to give the game away.’

Alfie’s eyes slice like the ambiguity in Michael’s rhetoric.

‘Oh don’t worry Solomons, your secrets and skeletons are safe with me. . . for now anyway’.

The twine possessing Alfie’s composure splinters and with a constricting grab of an upper arm, he whips Michael away from prying eyes, with Arabella’s plea of his name falling on death ears and Rubin hot on their tail.

At the main entrance a huddle of elderly Jewish women’s discussion on knitting patterns is firmly interrupted by a grapple they look shocked to be witnessing.

‘Now, don’t you worry about this ladies, I’m just taking out the rubbish’.

Alfie’s tone is jovial, but Arabella can see every vein in his body is amplifying to cardinal proportions.

Taking a sharp right, he hurls them into a deserted back alley, before ricochetting Michael’s back off the cold and damp bricks, making Arabella wince and Michael bellow breathlessly.

Years of fighting and taking back meant dealing with dregs like McCleary was almost autonomous. Despite his incensed demeanour, his brain remains utterly calm, firing off a lightening series of automated responses. A continuous of experience distilled into substance.

A multitude of action happens simultaneously and all before anyone has time to anticipate.

Arabella isn’t sure where he pulled it from, but Alfie is now pivoted firmly in front of Michael, a Webley Mark revolver held unwaveringly on his trigger finger.

‘My boy, no!’ Rubin clamours out as Arabella surges to the end of the alley surveying the surroundings.

‘Shit!’

Her panicked expletive reaches the ears of a well-to-do couple dressed in all their finery. Casting her a scandalised look, the lady tuts an ‘oh really’ under her expensive furs.

Arabella swallows her bottom lip. There is no way a gunshot is to go unnoticed and uninvestigated in these surroundings. She makes a dash back to Alfie, tugging at his arm once again.

‘Alfie, Alfie. . .Alfie, put the gun down’.

His eyes pirouette with torment, his fiance's pleas sequestering to the background. He gently bats away her arm.

‘Sweetie, you might want to stand well back for this one, because when I drop this bullet from it’s resting place the blood and matter that will ascend this little cunt to the heavens will deflect itself all over this pigsty. Now green and red just don’t go together and I’d hate for that dress to be ruined.’

‘Alfie, you need to stop. If anyone hears that thing go off and calls the police . . . he’s not worth that’.

‘My dear boy, Ms Shelby is right, put away that weapon. A man like this is not laudable for the ammunition’.

Ignoring Rubin entirely, Alfie addresses Arabella without ever leaving his attention from the snivelling creature caught firmly in his cross-hairs.

‘Treacle, since my resurrected partnership with your brother, I have no need to worry about the old cop shop. It’s all justifiable housekeeping.’

Arabella glances across to Rubin. Beads of sweat interspersing his forehead catch the oppressive luminosity of the gas light.

Alfie lurches forward pushing the weapon straight into Michael's windpipe with force.

‘Now McCleary, don’t ever think you can come into my world, and take an upper-hand. That ain’t ever gunna happen is it? Did you think I’d let you get away with it, what you thought you’d sensed a weakness in the Israelite?’

‘No need for senses when there’s certainty’.  Michael splutters  through the cold constriction of gun metal. Alfie’s eyebrows shoot up, the lines in his forehead increasing with magnitude.

Driven by instinct, he pushes the barrel of the gun under Michael’s chin as his eyes twitch at his adversary’s cool composure and audacious words  His heart races but his mind is icy.

‘Talk to me about this certainty of yours’. The clicking of his gun cocking into place and his detached tone sounds almost deafening to Arabella in this confined space.

‘Alfie stop! He’s winding you up!’ Her voice going an octave higher.

‘Your uncle, Charles Solomons. He’s an interesting fellow isn’t he? Or at least he has some very interesting cargo that comes through Liverpool docks’.

Arabella hears the gasp Rubin drops at the name Charles Solomons. Alfie’s eyebrows lower and pull even further together as his lip curls.

‘You see Alfie, you might have a hand at what goes through Camden Lock and thanks to this new allegiance with Lady Muck there, you have a finger in the pie at Poplar, but Liverpool and the Albert Dock? They’re mine. I control them and with  no foot hold there for either of your little gangs, I have a lot of leverage in way of your Uncle Charlie’s cargo from Boston.’

Alfie catatonic eyes continue staring at Michael, looking straight through him.

‘Charles Solomons’ business has nothing to do with me!’

Spittle flies from his mouth along with his indignant rumble of words.

‘Funny that because his business of bootlegging, narcotics and the like has certainly bank rolled a lot of your warehouses and labour. How do you think he’d feel knowing his own nephew had a hand in the fallout of his empire eh? Because between me and my lads, we could make it very difficult for his goods to make their destination points’.

The barrel of Alfie’s gun collides with Michel’s cheekbone, splitting the skin wide open. Michael grabs the wound with his hand shouting a series of expletives.

‘Lets say I shoot you right here, right now. In the fucking face. I’d be doing everyone a fucking favour then wouldn’t I? Including my Uncle Charlie.’

‘You can kill me now, but it wouldn’t make a difference. There’s not just me in on this’.

Alfie swallows, the saliva bounding down his throat like poison. How did this fucker, this scruffy backstreet gang member know so much of his business? Alfie didn’t want this fight but it has come looking for him and battle it, he will. His finger tightens on the trigger, snatching at it. But by now, galvanised by the chaos, Arabella steps into the fold.

Alfie turns his head sharply at her, but she doesn’t react. In that second panic sets in. He didn’t panic ever. Panicking got you killed. A straightforward equilibrium. But, just like panic, distraction gets you killed and when he sees her step into the combat zone, his focus goes to keeping her safe. Already, she is becoming detrimental.

Unfazed by the weapon and the weight of the situation, Arabella looks Michael up and down, her eyes set to a primitive gaze.

‘So, that’s your leverage is it?’

‘Arabella, go the fuck back inside!’

Rubin wrings his hands behind them.

‘Ms Shelby, perhaps Alfie is right and you should. .’ Rubin’s attempts to mediate are cut off by Alfie’s growl.

‘Fuck off Bella, Now!’

‘I’m going nowhere! I want to know what Mr McCleary is using Charles Solomons as a bargaining chip for?’

Nursing his bleeding cheek, Michael winks at Arabella salaciously.

‘I mean, you ask all the right questions don’t you babe? If she’s half as good at emptying your balls, Solomons then she’s too worthy for you.’

Alfie’s anger hits crescendo and just as the adrenaline spikes to manipulate his limbs, he feels the soft skin of Arabella’s hand entwine with his around the gun. With a firm grip she pulls the focus of the barrel between McCleary’s legs.

‘I’ve got more than one method for draining balls, now get the fuck out with what it is you want’.

‘Alright sweetheart, as it’s you. You see, us up North we haven’t got it as good as you bastards down here. You Southern ponces have it perfect, business must be booming with everyone’s love for trotting spectacles’.

Arabella rolls her eyes.

‘Fuck sake, you men and your fucking horses! All this is about the tracks!?’

‘The tracks that have got you were you are standing now, love. Well, me any my lads are feeling a bit left out and we reckon it’s about time you did some sharing’.

Alfie pouts at the fanciful fucker in front of him. That thick-lipped mouth of his on display, that Arabella notes makes him look amenable and cordial, hiding the steel that lays beneath the easy smiles.

‘Carry on down the road to Little Italy and you can discuss all this with Darby Sabini -we hear he is in need of allies at the moment’.

Michael grins wide, oozing more blood from the gash to his face. He likes her, shame really when he considers his end game.

‘Oh no Miss Shelby, I’m not in this to share or be a worker bee for any Italian mob cunt. We want space and pitches and with those we will agree to a truce at the Liverpool docks and no more trouble with the cargo of a Mr C Solomons as well as a new trade network at my end.’

‘Fuck your truce! I don’t do fucking truces mate! Don’t think for a single second of your measly,  miserable existence that I would work with a cunt like you. You, yeh, are the lowest and most de sanctified piece of scum and I don’t do deals with men willing to kill the rats that live among them by biting them’.

Either McCleary was mentally deficient or he has more up his sleeve that he can pull out when he wants. Arabella was yet to decide which.

‘Look, how many good-natured businessmen have you lot bullied, hounded and baited for pitches? That’s how it works. Now don’t come the incensed with me when the same thing happens to you’.

Alfie works his way closer into Michael’s space, the gun pushing further into McCleary’s gut with each step.

‘Now, I’ve been very patient of you, considering the circumstances but now your just getting on my last fucking nerve. You come ‘ere to seek me out, you know the road, you know I offer a deal or death. Un-fuckin-fortunately for you mate it’s no deal’.

The sound of a cocking gun fills the expanse around them. Alfie’s eyes knit together as his gun was already rearing to go.

A cold chill fills his body.

As quick as a snake he whips his head in Arabella’s direction. A tall and lanky man with a soot covered face and eyes like piss holes in the snow looms behind her. The same revolver as his own sequestering into the parting of her hair.

‘Well, I did tell you I wasn’t in this alone. What’s say we call a truce that you famously don’t do?’

Alfie’s tongue darts out across his lips to add moisture to his acrid mouth.

‘Take that gun from behind her head now or so help me I’ll paint this alleyway with every ounce of your intestines’.

‘Alright, calm yourself will yeh! Take this gun out of my ribcage and I’ll ask me mate here to throw back your princess once we’ve discussed our bookmaking arrangements for Kempton and Earls Park. We can discuss Epsom when . . . ‘

Smug words drown out to the ear piercing shriek of agony, followed by a gunshot.

Alfie can hear the blood swilling around his ears as they ring. A cold sweat like the ones he experienced in France drapes around him.

Rubin, who has ducked down, cowering like a child to avoid the fired bullet, turns to look at the damage inflicted to the brickwork behind him.

Alfie’s eyes search with frantic need. Never has he felt relief like the kind her green scowl is bringing.

Arabella’s provoked patience melded into fury and flashing her hand from inside her cleavage she had retrieved a flick knife.

McCleary’s cadaverous assailant falls back, nursing his eye socket. His muck filled knuckles struggle to contain the cascade of crimson.

Alfie spots a blood stain growing on the young man’s upper arm. One flow of movement from her had caused the damage.  Alfie didn’t know if he was turned on, worried or infuriated- the dilemma was nauseating. He quickly pulls her arm a little too roughly, placing her behind his frame, an action that makes Michael sneer.

‘There’s part of that weakness of yours, Solomons. A devil always protects his angel’.

‘You are pushing your fucking luck mate!’

Alfie bellows the last three words as they spark a fire in his eyes like every demon and monster laying dormant inside him is suddenly awakened.

‘She’s fucking blinded me, you stupid fucking bitch!’

‘That is just a scratch. Rest assured that I think before I act so had I wanted to blind you then that eyeball would be on the end of my knife edge.’

‘Yeh and make another sound and both your fuckin eyes will be in my next batch of rum, mate’.

Michael keeps his eyes on Alfie. Watching him warily and attempting to second-guess what his next move will be, irritating Arabella to no end. She points at him with the tip of her knife, dripping with red.

‘Let me explain a few things to you. For one, I am not in anyway some hapless princess that gets what she wants through the strong-arming of her brothers. Secondly, should you wish to know where my brothers get their violent tendencies from, it’s from having to try and fight back at a sister who has always been two steps ahead of them. As for the devil, well, even the devil doesn’t know where an angel sharpens their knives’.

Despite the situation Michael’s countenance lifts into a smile that reaches his eyes. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game with Solomons, but now he understood that this broad is more strife than he has given thought to. The only thing left to do is see everything through and watch who would be the victor.

Alfie transfixes a snarl to Michael’s assailant who is using his flea invested blazer to wipe away the blood. He reaches into his pocket sending all eyes to his actions with cautious worry. Pulling out a white handkerchief, he condescendingly tosses it across.

‘Why don’t you wipe yourself the fuck up and then the pair of you can trot on down to the end of this road and fuck off from where you’ve crawled from?’

‘Alright, we’ve said what we need to say, no need to labour the point’.

Alfie’s shoulders hunch. Going without a fight seems suspicious and he can almost feel the charge coming off Michael as he pushes the still drawn pistol in the bakers hand out of his way to saunter to his mate.

‘This isn’t a finished conversation though, Solomons. Earls Park races start in a fortnight and we want in on the pitches and not the shitty cheaper rings that you Jews have been used to before now. We can discuss another meeting in the coming days. Don’t ignore my telegrams this time- I’d hate to come back for your princess’.

‘And she would hate to come back for this fucker’s other eye’.

Arabella spits out through gritted teeth as Alfie once again finds himself squaring back up to Michael with all the menace of a mad man. A dense darkness spiking in his eyes forcing devilry to dance in his pupils. Arabella watches warily through the silence. Maybe all the schemes of the devil were nothing in comparison to what this man could muster up.

In one swift blow, Alfie’s knuckles collide with Michael’s conspirator. The sound of bones crunching fill the space as the gangling lad plummets to the concrete,. Rubin gasps in shock and turns his head to the side, scrunching his eyes as if it would remove him from the situation.

‘That there yeh, is just for starters. Consider it a warning to both of you that children do not belong in a man’s world.  No fucking deal. No fucking meeting. Take your friend and fuck off.’

Alfie steps over the body below him, barging into Michael's shoulder in the process. He holds out his hand to Arabella, which she accepts as they walk off down the narrow space.

‘Before you go anywhere there’s something else you should know’.

Alfie spins around, his expression dripping with malice.

‘What’s that old saying- an eye for an eye? You might want to check on your little right hand man. He got in our way when we were looking for you at that warehouse you use belonging to her brother. Not sure how long it takes to bleed out from a leg wound but he’s already been there quite a while, so I wouldn’t leave it too long.’

Alfie’s brain feels like it’s in overload. They have got to Issiah. He drops Arabella’s hand. With hunching shoulders, he storms back onto the thoroughfare of the street. He needed to get to Issiah and get to him fast. Everything else could wait.

***************************************************************************************

TAG LIST: @theworldisforeverours @hotchlover @bekkarific @jarvisrocks

@fairypitou @azulawayne @quarterpastmidnight @clintbartoris @gameofpot @doomwhathouwilt @lokigirlszendaya @inkinterrupted @misselsbells-blog @soloalfie @hades-dogsitter @buttercupsandboys @sunshineyourethebesttime​ 

Sorry for the super long update delay! I hope there are people still willing to read this labour of love. 

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag-list and as always please comment and reblog! 

[ceirinen]

December 2023

I decided to make a list of every fic I read each month.

I would like to interact more, but life has been complicated recently and when it comes to interacting, I get very anxious which is something I'm trying to overcome.

So, here I made this to appreciate such amazing writers and stories that inspire me and others everyday. To the authors, I want to thank them for their dedication and time spent on writing to offer us fascinating stories.

I totally recommend their work.

(If you are in this list and you don't want to, please let me know so I can fix it).

@cillianmesoftlyyy

So New | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader Method Acting | young!Cillian Murphy x Reader

@runnning-outof-time

Research | Tommy Shelby x Reader Bedtime Stories | Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

@zablife

teacher!Luca Changretta x Reader Funeral | Tommy Shelby x sister!reader A Visit to the Peaky Blinders Set | Cillian Murphy x wife!reader

@gypsy-girl-08

Festive Spirit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader All I Need... | modern!Thomas Shelby x Reader A Gentle Warning | Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

@pacifymebby

Arthur Shelby x Reader

@fkmarrycill

Pre-Gaming | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@holacia3

Lost and Lucky | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader Surprise visit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

@beastofburdenxo

Let Me Praise You | Tommy Shelby x Reader Raising Catherine | Tommy Shelby x Reader

@look-at-the-soul

If I let you go | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@your-nanas-house

What does my princess want? | sugar daddy!Cillian Murphy x sugar baby!reader I'm pretty sure you're mine | sub!William Killick x dom!fem!Reader What are we, idiot? | Neil Lewis x best friend!Reader Thirsty | Tommy Shelby x secretary!Reader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

To the end of the world | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Tommy, the teddy bear | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Emergency surgery | baby!Tommy Shelby Fanfiction | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Anon | Alfie Solomons

@lis-likes-fics

Loner | Edward Cullen x Reader At the End of the Day | Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader

@rafeology

Mentor!Finnick Odair x victor!reader

@wife-of-all-dilfs

Flower Therapy | Finnick Odair x Reader

@darlingsfandom

Cillian Murphy x Reader Tommy Shelby x artist!reader Soft sugar daddy | Robert Fischer x Reader

@pinguwrites

Home Is Where the Heart Is | William Killick x future!reader

@http-finnick

Skin to skin | Finnick Odair x fem!insomniac!reader

@acewritesfics

Lost Love | Tommy Shelby x Reader 36 Minutes | modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

@dearshelby

Had you first | Tommy Shelby x Reader Little Tommy | Thomas Shelby x oc

@lau219

Red Carpet | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@peakyswritings

I Do Bad Things | demon!Tommy x Reader

@shelbystales

Ceramic Lessons | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@darthannie

Day eighteen: breeding kink with Lenny Miller | Lenny Miller x f!Reader

@hllywdwhre

Afterglow | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@red-write-hand

I'll be home for Christmas | Thomas Shelby x Reader

@mysaintkitten

Bad Behaviour | Mike Kiernan x fem!Reader

@notyour-valentine

The Spirits that I summoned | young!Tommy Shelby

@brummiereader

No Son Of Mine | Tommy Shelby

@youbyradiohead

Strawberry Syrup | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillianthinker

British accent | Cillian Murphy x Reader Young and in love | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillspropertea

Coming home | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillmequick

Operation Christmas Tree | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

[skyeeuphixia]

𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚢 // 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎?

finn shelby x sister oc (florence)

summary: in which finn is left forever broken

⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

warning/s: blood, violence, death, grief, emotional distress

words: 1010

⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

When Finn and Florence Shelby were born, they instantly became the pride and joy of their families lives. They were loved by and doted on by their older siblings, the two of them could get away with close to anything, even Tommy would crack when he watched as his baby sister looked up at him with her big blue eyes that matched his so perfectly.

Despite each of them having particularly close relationships to different older siblings, Florence being especially close to Tommy, and Finn close to Ada, no one could deny the bond the two held with one another, they all saw it from the day that they were born and the two of them grabbed each other’s hands as they slept in their cot. Being twins they were connected on a deeper level than normal siblings. Aunt Polly pointed it out days after their birth. If Florence cried, Finn would cry. If Finn was happy, Florence was happy.

“They can feel each other’s feelings” she claimed.

For a while, the other Shelby’s brushed off their eccentric Aunt, they were babies reacting to the world around them, of course one would start crying if a baby started screaming in their ear. But as they grew older, their Aunts words became truer and truer. The twins would occasionally finish each other’s sentences, or say things at the same time, they could predict the others feelings even when they weren’t around each other. They couldn’t feel the others pain, but if Finn was in pain, physical or emotional, Florence knew, and vice versa.

They never provided much explanation as to what it was they felt, they simply placed their hands on their hearts stating that ‘they could feel each other’.

“Gypsy twin magic” is what they called it.

As the twins grew older, their differences emerged. Finn was street smart, Florence was book smart. Finn wanted a dog, Florence preferred a cat. Finn was eager to be more involved in the business, Florence wanted to be involved with business as little as possible. But despite their differences, they were just as close as when they were children. At 16 years old, they had never spent more than 24 hours away from each other. You would never see one twin without the other and if you did, something was likely very wrong, especially with recent events. Ever since Tommy’s wife, Grace, had died and things had been getting more tense against the Changretta’s, the twins had been ordered to never leave each other’s side and to protect one another, which they didn’t need to be told twice.

However it made moments like this more frustrating. Family meetings had to take place somewhere different every time they were held, it lowered the risk of the Changretta’s targeting them all at once, as they wouldn’t know where they are, Florence, ever the good girl of the family was often first to the meetings, and could almost always guess when Finn would come crashing through the door, panting dramatically as if he had sprinted a 5k. But now, the family had to wait for the two of them to arrive at the Garrison together. And Tommy was getting impatient.

“They should have been here by now,” Tommy says as he paces the room, more on edge than ever.

“’ave a bit of patience Tommy.” Arthur calls out, already half way finished a glass of whisky, “They’ll be in ‘ere any moment, Flo dragging Finn by the ear, scolding ‘im for making her later,”

Their aunt however was less convinced. She was good at sensing when things were wrong, and the pit in her stomach was growing more and more as the twins refused to appear, “Somethings not right,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Then, as if summoned by the collective fears of his family, Finn stumbled through the door. His face was deathly pale, eyes void of any emotion other than pure shock, but most significantly, in his arms, he was carrying Florence’s lifeless form. Her skin was as pale as ever, and she was drenched in blood from a bullet wound in her forehead, that was staining Finn’s white shirt.

Finn had barely processed what happened, he remembered hearing a gunshot, running to where he knew his sister was, and shooting his own gun in anger, that was all he could remember, but hearing the horrified gasps from his family, everything in his brain clicked. He didn’t hear himself scream, or the pain in his knees as he dropped to the floor, all he could do was sob as he desperately clutched his sister and held her close to him, desperately willing for her to wake up and end this nightmare.

The rest of the Shelby’s watched the scene in horror. Ada was sobbing into Johns side, as he held onto her burying his face into her hair to hide his own tears. Arthurs fists were clenched in fury, hardly being able to keep himself from smashing everything in the garrison.

Tommy’s ever cold and distant look had contorted into anguish at the loss of the sister he held so dear, “Not Flo…” he whispers, a quiet plea to whatever higher power there was to give her back to him.

Aunt Polly was the only one who could will herself to move over to the twins, kneeling down next to Finn, holding as much as he’d let her and placing a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, trying to hold herself together for him.

“I only left her cause I forgot my cap,” he whispered, his voice shaky and laced with guilt and self-hatred, “I knew Poll…I knew something was wrong, I could feel it…here,” he said, as he pressed a trembling hand to his heart, his sisters blood staining a red handprint, “It felt like I was dying, and then it vanished…”

“She’s gone…I can’t feel her anymore,”

And the family knew, then and there, the twin flame had burnt out,

and Finn would never be the same.

⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

(fin)

[themultifandomgal]

Shelby Sister- Troublesome Twins Pt2

I was asked to do a part 2. So here it is!

Since Finn getting shot, YNs brothers have been even more protective than normal. She's finding it harder to see her boyfriend since Tommy has basically put her on house arrest. YN had been sneaking out during the night to meet Isaiah under the bridge by the cut. Then one day Isaiah asked YN to marry him, she of course said yes, but there's no way her brothers would allow that. So they made the decision to run off, with the help of Finn since he's the only one not to try and control YN's life. Now they're returning home, YN hoping her brothers don't go mad and Isaiah hoping her brothers don't kill him.

"There they are" Finn smiles walking over to them as the get off the train "the happy couple. Welcome back" Finn envelopes his twin before shaking Isaiah's hand

"So how bad will it be?"

"Well Arthur probably will shout, Tommy might have both your heads and Ada well she'll find all of this hilarious" Finn says pulling away

"Looking forward to it" Isaiah sighs

"Just don't tell 'em that your havin a kid because I think that will give 'em a heart attack"

"Well I'm not not for a while"

"Good. You hear that Isaiah. I may approve of you and my sister but no babies us till your like 30" this makes Isaiah and I laugh.

We arrive at the Garrison where I know Finn has gathered everyone

"You ok?" Isaiah asks before we step foot into the pub

"Should be asking you that" I chuckle taking Isaiah's hand in mine "but yes. May as well get this over and done with" I take a deep breath and open the doors immediately seeing it empty apart from my family sat at a large table. Everyone looks at us walking in

"Where the fuck have you been YN?" Arthur yells slamming his drink down

"Let the girl sit down first" Ada says, I give her a little smile in reply. I drag Isaiah over to the table and take a seat next to Polly. Tommy just stares at me while Arthur drinks. Michael sits smoking a cigarette looking between Tommy and I

“So” tommy finally speaks “want to tell us where you were?”

“Errm ok so” I play with my ring nervously under the table “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew you would go mad”

“Spit it out” Arthur grunts

“Isaiah and I got married” I quickly say

“You bloody what?!” Arthur yells

“Finn did you know?”

“Yes, but Tom….”

“You went behind my back”

“I warned you Tommy. I told you Isaiah and I would get married one day with or without your permission”

“Are your pregnant?” Micheal asks

“No I’m not bloody pregnant”

“Then why marry so young”

“Maybe because they love each other” Ada says in my defence, but Tommy scoffs

“They’re kids”

“I’m 21 Tommy. I’m an adult I know what I’m doing” I yell at my brother

“No you don’t YN! What if he fucks another woman? What if he hurts you? He’s going to break your heart. Fuck YN I know what men his age do, hell men my age fuck around while married”

“Just ‘cause you all cheated on your wife’s doesn’t mean Isaiah will”

“Ok I think we need to calm down” aunt Polly tries

“No you know what this was a mistake. Maybe we should have stayed in London maybe I should have made you think I was dead because clearly you’d prefer that than me being married and happy!” I yell one last time “come on Is we’re going” I stand up pulling Isaiah with me. We begin walking out when Isaiah stops, turning around to face my brothers

“You know, I actually really love YN. I respect her as a person, she’s my equal and I will do everything in my power to keep her safe and provide for her and hopefully our kids in the future. I know YN will want you all apart of that, but I guess it’s your choice” Isaiah places his arm around my waist as we walk out of the garrison

“Thank you Is”

“Always”

I groan getting out of bed after hearing multiple knocks on the door and Polly shouting for me. Isaiah and I have been staying with Polly before we try and find our own home. I wrap my dressing gown around my body and make my way downstairs when I see Tommy and Arthur stood at the door

“What do you want?” I ask folding my arms

“You were right” I raise my eyebrows at Tommy. He never apologises

“Continue”

“You told me you would marry him”

“We’re just worried about you” Arthur finally says “we don’t want you hurt. Your our little sister. The baby of the family”

“I’m not a baby anymore. Neither is Finn. I appreciate that you want to keep me safe but I can handle myself and now I have Isaiah, well I guess I’ve always had him. I’m happy and I promise if Isaiah ever does anything to hurt me I will tell you”

“Can we come in?” Tommy asks

“Best ask Poll. I’ll go and get dressed and get Isaiah up”

“Just promise me 1 thing… no babies yet. I don’t think I can handle that as well”

“Ok” I chuckle responding to Tommy.

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VII

Summary: after failing to propose to Agnese, Tommy is given an ultimatum. But the events of the previous night only complicate things further, and Tommy and Nina are forced to have a conversation they can’t escape. Meanwhile, Pietro has something to ask his sister.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: the wait has been awfully long, and I’m sorry for that! I’m trying to find the way to be more constant with my updates🤍

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

Dividers credits

One week.

They had given him one more week of time to propose to Agnese, or else the deal would be off.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t expect it, though. He was playing with fire, and he knew it. When he had decided to go for lunch at Agnese’s house the previous day, he had indirectly made it clear that he’d finally propose. And that was the intention, at first. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Under the expectant eyes of Agnese’s family, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to pull the ring out of his pocket and ask that fateful question. Why was it so damn difficult?

That wasn’t how things were meant to go. He was supposed to go to Italy, court whatever woman they preferred, and get on with it. He’d stop the war, he’d help the Ferrantes in their own war with Sabini, and everyone would be happy. He would keep his head, and the Ferrantes would keep their place on top of the racing business - alongside with him. He thought he had considered all the obstacles that could possibly get in his way, and yet there was one he would’ve never taken into account. That obstacle had a name and a face. A quite pretty face, too.

He was fucked. He was utterly, inexorably fucked. After last night, he was sure of that. The worst thing was - he had been truthful when he had said that he didn’t regret it. Because he didn’t, not even a bit. It felt like all the choices he had ever made had brought him to that moment, to that kiss, to having her in his arms, to be enveloped by her warmth. And God, did he feel cold when she walked away.

He just wished Polly were there. She would know what to do. She’d yell at him, probably, maybe even slap him. But she’d help him. She was half of him, and understood him so much more than he understood himself. He hadn’t imagined it would be so hard to even function without her being by his side. However, he knew better than to write to her, because he was well aware that the letter would pass through other hands first. Those people trusted him no more than he trusted them.

After lunch, Tommy took advantage of the fact that Nina was washing the dishes on her own to approach her. He had the impression she had been actively ignoring him, averting his gaze and leaving every time he tried to get close to her, avoiding the conversation they couldn’t really escape. Leaning against the counter, he allowed himself a moment to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that frown that had now become so familiar to him, and that he had grown to find rather cute. A rebellious lock had escaped her braid, falling in front of her face, and he had to restrain himself from giving in to the temptation to reach his hand out and fix it.

“We should talk about what happened,” he eventually murmured, making sure to keep his voice low.

Nina’s posture stiffened, but her face didn’t betray any sort of emotion. “What are you talking about?” She asked, keeping on scrubbing a plate without sparing him a single glance.

He blinked, opening his mouth to say something, but words failed him at her question. Out of all the things she could’ve said, that one he didn’t expect. Collecting himself, he spoke again. “Yesterday night.”

“I don’t recall anything happening yesterday night.”

Her words caused his eyebrows to shot up, and he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Nina, we need to discuss-”

“You want me to discuss something I don’t recall?” She quickly interrupted him, not even giving him the chance to finish his sentence.

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and it took him more than a moment to shake off the annoyance. He couldn’t believe she was seriously doing that. It wasn’t just her words that managed to get under Tommy’s skin, but her completely indifferent attitude, and the way she was treating him as if she was doing him a favour just by giving him her attention. They had gotten so close he had forgotten how aggravating she could be. “You can pretend all you want, sweetheart. It won’t make what happened any less real.”

“Sweetheart.”

“But if that’s what you wanna do, then fine,” he continued, his tone switching to the one he reserved for business. Apparently, that was the game she wanted to play. But he was a good player, too, and he wouldn’t let her see how much her indifference stung. With a swift motion, he took ahold of his pocket watch, clearing his throat. “It’s late,” he changed the subject, with the air of a man whose time had been wasted long enough. “I have a meeting with your father.”

“Then go.”

Finally, Nina looked at him, eyes glaring with a silent threat to leave her alone. There was something else in her gaze, though, something he couldn’t quite read. It was frustrating, not being able to read her. He could usually tell about people, yet she stayed a mystery. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, there was always something that eluded him, a missing piece that prevented him from getting the whole picture. For a short while, they just stared at each other in silence, and Tommy was hit by the foolish need to feel her close again. It was as if the more Nina pushed him away, the more he felt himself drawn to her. It was overwhelming. So overwhelming that he had to immediately leave the room before he did something that would put the both of them in an awful position. He hated the way Nina’s mere presence was enough to make him lose any sort of power he had over his emotions, melting into dust the control he had worked to hard to achieve. He couldn’t afford to lose that control, not when there was so much at stake.

Fucking hell.

As soon as Tommy left the room, Nina exhaled, letting out the breath she had been holding under his stare. Why was it so hard for her to keep him at a distance? Why did it pain her to treat him as if she didn’t care about him in the slightest? Why did she care about him?

It was messed up. Absurd. She couldn’t get the events of the previous night out of her head. The scent of his aftershave, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, the tender firmness of his rough hands. Just thinking about it made her knees go weak again. No one had ever kissed her like he did, looked at her like he did, made her feel the things he had made her feel. She had never even thought it possible, and now there she was, replaying it in her mind again and again, craving way more than the mere memory.

It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

“Nina, can you come here for a second?” Pietro’s voice resounded in the kitchen, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Her cheeks heated as she felt as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to do. She hid it by staying with her back on him, under the impression that her betrayal was written on her face, and that just by looking at her he’d be able to tell what she had done. She put the last plate in the cabinet before drying her hands with a rug. “What?”

“Sit.”

When she turned around, her brother was sitting at the table, waiting for her to join him. Although he had spoken in his usual authoritative tone, there was something strange in his demeanour, a hint of uneasiness that breached through his facade of unwavering composure. Furrowing her brows, Nina took a seat in front of him, waiting for him to speak. The silence seemed to stretch into an eternity as Pietro clasped his hands on the table, visibly pondering his next words.

“I know about Stefano.”

The blood froze in her veins as her brother uttered those words, her heart thumping in her chest at implication that he might know what Stefano had attempted. She gulped, her throat feeling suddenly dry. “What?”

“Dad told me he wants to marry you.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief at his statement. She had no idea how he would react, if he’d keep her secret or tell their father about it, if he’d help her or blame her. Because even though in her heart she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t have the certainty that her family would think the same. Then his words sunk in, and it didn’t take long for her worry to turn into disturbance, her blood boiling at the sensation of having her strings being pulled, again.

“You want to convince me?” She asked with an undertone of accusation in her voice.

“I want to know what you want,” he said carefully, testing the waters. After a brief pause, which served to ascertain that his sister would listen to him and not verbally attack him before he could say another word, he started again, this time more firmly. “Nina, the balance between our families might shift at any given moment. A marriage between the two of you would avert any prospect of war,” he pragmatically explained, causing Nina’s expression to harden. But it didn’t take long for his mask to slip, and his features softened with understanding. “But that means nothing if you don’t want to marry him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then you won’t have to,” he leaned forward, and Nina could read the glimpse of a promise shining in his gaze. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her brother’s calmness, along with the assurance in his voice, managed to partially quieten the storm going on in her mind. But it still wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. He couldn’t really make that promise, after all. And as much as she deluded herself to have a say in what would happen in her future, Nina knew that if things went down she wouldn’t really have a choice. “It’s decided, in dad’s head. He said the choice’s up to me, but we both know that it’s not.”

She despised the undertone of resignation in her voice. She had never voiced that thought, she had never even allowed herself to indulge in it up until that point, but she knew that was just another addition to the pile of problems she’d have to face, sooner of later.

Pietro didn’t seem to intend to let the matter go. He leaned with his arms on the table, his dark eyes stubbornly looking for Nina’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”

That question was enough to make Nina falter. Did she trust him?

She used to, up until before the war. Blindly. They were so close she would’ve trusted him with her life. He was the one who convinced her father to let her finish school, he was the one who took the blame - and the punishment - for her wrongdoings when they were children, he was the one she turned to when she had a problem. Then he left for war, and never came back. But his eyes were telling her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would always have her back. And she wondered - what if she told him? What if she opened up and and shared with him the burden she had carried on her shoulders for too many years? Maybe he would protect her. Because fragments of the boy she grew up with were still scattered somewhere deep inside him, and that boy would do anything to keep her safe.

“Pietro, I…” she hesitated, shifting in her seat. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He frowned.

“I…”

He’ll blame you.

That thought poisoned Nina’s mind, stopping the words from coming out of her mouth. He wouldn’t protect her, he’d blame her. He’d tell their father, and he’d blame her too. Because if Stefano had gotten so obsessed with her, chances were she had done something to accommodate that kind of behaviour.

No one could protect her. No one would protect her. She only had herself.

“What, Nina?” Pietro’s impatient voice brought her back to her senses, and the weight of his stare was suddenly too much to bear. Gathering her emotions back under her control, she shook her head, brushing the matter off with the a gesture of her hand.

“Nevermind. It’s not important.”

Standing outside the door of Tommy’s bedroom, Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, debating whether to knock or chicken out and go back to her room. Or maybe she could wait for him in the kitchen. Maybe he’d join her, like every night.

No, he wouldn’t join her. Not after the way she had treated him. She had been childish, and insufferable. But truth was - she didn’t want to have that conversation, because talking about it meant admitting that something had, indeed, happened. That she had betrayed her cousin, her family. Herself. And she felt like a terrible person. However, Tommy was right. Pretending wouldn’t take back what was done, and her problems wouldn’t solve themselves. If she wanted to make things easier for herself, she should start somewhere. So in a fit of determination, she had left her bedroom and crossed the corridor, knowing that she needed to act before the urge to take back control of her life faded. It was safe to say she already regretted it, though. Finally, she mustered up the courage and delicately knocked on the door, her heart racing in her chest. There was some noise, then the door opened, and she was met with Tommy’s surprised expression.

“Can I come in?” She shyly asked, suddenly aware that showing up at his door in the middle of the night was probably a bit too bold, even for her. After recovering from his astonishment, Tommy moved to the side, allowing her to walk inside the room.

She hadn’t entered that room since before his arrival. It was somehow curious, to see how he had made himself at home. It was just like she expected it to be. Tidy, clean, and it smelled like his expensive cologne. For some reason, the belongings placed around it made him seem more human. The shoes paired on the floor next to the closet, the clothes for the next day neatly folded on a chair, the cigarette case placed on the bedside table, next to a flask. She would bet his gun was in the first drawer.

“How did the meeting with my father go?” She stalled, asking the first thing that came to her mind while she thought about how to start the actual conversation.

Tommy apparently wasn’t in the mood for small talk, though, because he completely ignored her question. Instead, his piercing gaze followed her as she took a few steps around the room, a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance on his face. It was clear to Nina that he was thoroughly fed up with her bullshit, and she couldn’t really blame him. As much as she hated to admit he was in the right, she was aware she was treading on thin ice. A heavy silence fell into the room, and Nina felt a faint sense of agitation starting to creep up on her. It wasn’t just the weight of Tommy’s glare on her that made her feel uncomfortable, but the feeling of general awkwardness that felt so unnatural between them now. Then a hint of doubt crossed his features, as if he had been suddenly struck by some realisation.

“Why are you here, Nina?” He squinted his eyes, taking a few steps in her direction. “Information? Is your family sending you?”

Nina felt like the rug had been pulled from under her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out of it as she was too shocked to put a whole sentence together. “What?” She eventually said under her breath.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Tommy went on, walking until he stopped right in front of her. “And I’ve been wondering why your family hasn’t had my head yet for not proposing. Are you hiding something?”

“What would I be hiding?”

“You tell me. Why did you get near me, eh?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. His accusation felt like a harsh slap to her face. How dared he say something like that after how close she had let him? After she had opened up to him about things she had never even admitted to herself? After she had let him see her?

Tommy regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. The hint of hurt behind the anger on Nina’s face made his stomach clench, and he cursed himself for how cruel he had been. Whatever it was that they had built over the last month couldn’t be some kind of farce, a trap set to act behind his back. It was too real, too sincere. And Nina wasn’t Grace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment of hesitation. “I didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it.”

Tommy looked away from her, as the pain in her eyes only added to the gnawing guilt eating at him. Guilt. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long while. He had become kind of numb to it, he often pushed it back without second thought, not allowing himself to dwell on things he could’ve done differently and things he shouldn’t have said. In his line work, guilt was a weakness, and a dangerous one. It had become way too easy to say, do and take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. Yet there it was, that strange, niggling feeling, stinging him like an annoying splinter.

Shaking off the mixture of anger and hurt, Nina took a few steps back, concluding that it was time to stop dancing around the subject. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner things would go back to normal. Straightening her back, she took on a facade of fake confidence, hoping it wouldn’t crumble as soon as Tommy’s eyes would be on her again. “What happened…” she started, drawing his attention back on her. “Was a mistake. We’ve…” she paused, carefully choosing what to say next. “…acted impulsively. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Tommy fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, pondering her words. “Right,” he nodded, returning his eyes to her. “It didn’t mean anything,” he confirmed, but something in his expression was telling her that he was only saying that to see her reaction, silently daring her to agree with him and keep on denying the existence of what was right in front of them.

“So we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” he repeated.

The silence of things left unsaid echoed in Tommy’s bedroom, but neither of them dared to break it, for they knew that once they took that step, there would be no going back. It had been just a kiss. They had cleared things out. Everything was normal again.

Nina took a look around the room, hoping that focusing on the small details would take her mind off that awful tension. It worked, to some extent, because her attention was soon grabbed by the only item that seemed to be out of place: the peaky cap lying on his bed. With slow, measured steps she made her way towards it, unable to hold back her interest.

“What I’ve said before,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded behind her. “I didn’t mean it. I know I said it, but I didn’t mean it. I need you to know.”

“It’s fine,” she said absentmindedly, observing how the razor blades sewn in it glistened in the dim light. “You know, they say it’s bad luck to put a hat on the bed,” she murmured.

“Do you believe it?” He asked with an undertone of skepticism in his voice, almost certain that Nina wasn’t the superstitious type.

“No,” she turned to face him with a half-grin, confirming his suspicions.

As if naturally drawn to the peculiarity of that choice of weapon, Nina looked back at the cap, but this time she couldn’t restrain herself from reaching her hand out to it. She wavered for a second, but then the curiosity took the best of her, and she grabbed it to take a better look at it. The crown of a King. She couldn’t help but wonder how many faces those razor blades had cut, how many eyes they had blinded, guided by the same hand that had handled her with such gentleness. She couldn’t picture Tommy losing his calm. He had a charm, a magnetism that clashed with his reputation, and he was so composed in the way he carried himself that it felt almost impossible to believe he was as ruthless as everyone said. And a shiver ran down her spine as she realised how little she actually knew him.

But it wasn’t fear. She hadn’t been scared of him the first time she had met him and she wasn’t scared now.

“Why do you keep them if you have guns?” She asked, handing it back to him. Although she didn’t believe that stuff, the thought of putting his hat on the bed didn’t sit well with her.

“We’re called the Peaky Blinders for a reason, sweetheart,” he explained, earning a glare from Nina as he brought back the pet name that had bothered her so much earlier that day. “And it’s a good backup if they take away your weapon.”

With a nod of her head, Nina quietly agreed with him. It did make sense. “I guess you can never be too safe.”

He uncovered the central blade, exposing it to the light. “My sister and my aunt always have one of these smuggled under the sole of their shoe.” Tommy paused for a few seconds, as if thinking about something, then he took ahold of the razor blade and ripped it off the cap. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Keep it.”

His unexpected gesture made Nina falter, but then she carefully grabbed the blade. The sensation of the cold metal between her fingers gave her an odd feeling of security, and she asked herself how something so small could cause so much damage. When she raised her gaze on Tommy, he was already looking at her, his blue irises deep with an emotion she couldn’t really define, but that disarmed her nonetheless. They were so close she could perceive the warmth radiating off his body, and she had no idea how that had happened. She could feel him, solid and secure, and the only thing she could think about was having his hands on her again, his arms enveloping her, his whole body pressed against hers.

Tommy wasn’t immune to that proximity either, and the urge of closing the distance between them was getting bigger and bigger. Her lips, her eyes, her scent, everything was calling him, and it took all the self-restraint he was capable of not to give in to the temptation. Why did she have to look at him like that?

Inhaling sharply, Nina took a step back, leaving a cold, painful emptiness in the spot she had previously filled. “It’s late,” she whispered, rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. “Goodnight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, starting to walk away. Driven by the unreasonable need to have her with him just for a little while more, Tommy moved to reach out to her, but his body froze in place as reason struck him like a blow. It was pointless. They were nothing, they would always be nothing.

So he let her leave.

NEXT PART

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Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[call-sign-shark]

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

Summary:  Running from your past doesn’t work anymore now that you’ve been directly involved in the Vendetta. Between violence, threats and schemes, you understand that you will only retrieve your peaceful haven with Arthur if you get out of this war with blood under your nails. featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 7.5k

TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, SMUT +18, hint at gunplay, cockwarming, piv, non-protected , obsessive love, extreme co-dependent relationship. They are sincerely deranged, sorry about that. No proofreading, we die like men.

Notes:

✞ This is the last quiet chapter of Act II, shit will start to get real in the next part. Also, the smut is just a part of the chapter, not the entire thing.

✞ This is chapter 14 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The crackling symphony of burning wood whispered to the stillness, each pop and hiss forming the melody of a sorrowful farewell to John Shelby. Amidst the flickering glow you emerged, your white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight around your shoulders to the small of your back. The firelight waltzed upon your features, bringing up the mesmerizing interplay of diamond dust and frost that composed you.

How many more?

The question flashed in your thoughts, leaving a trail of caustic soda that scorched your skull from the inside. How many more of your loved ones should you see burn, their flesh eaten by a voracious fire, until God decided He had enough fun tormenting you? Two faint dimples appeared on your cheeks as you gritted your teeth, the cold winter wind blowing at the black veils of your long and seductive black dress that floated elegantly behind you like the sinister drapes of the Reaper's cloak. In utter silence, Arthur lowkey shifted his focus from the vardo to you with concern and, taking notice of the destructive sparkle in your eyes, pulled you closer. The sensation might have been comforting but your body didn’t answer to his affection, remaining limp and disconnected. To be completely honest, you were feeling so physically and emotionally cold that you would have believed you were made of frost if his coat, which was resting over your shoulders, and his comforting hand, that was on your lower back, weren't there to offer you a bit of warmth.

As the scent of Arthur's reassuring cologne kept you anchored to reality, you finally woke up from your gluey negativity and instinctively nestled against your husband, who placed a discreet and tender kiss on the corner of your lips. The familiar ticking of his facial hairs on your skin sent a wave of comfort through your soul and reminded you that, despite everything that had been going on between the two of you lately, he had been, still was, and will always be your only saving grace. You wondered if, maybe, it was time for you to go back home. Not that his betrayal had been forgotten or forgiven, but you needed him more than ever. For a shit ton of reasons.

“You’re frozen, angel. You sure you wanna stay hm?” He whispered, the tender gravel in his voice clearing your morbid contemplation of the burning vardo, which brought to your mind the sickening memories of your mother and little sister burning at the stake. A long exhale escaped from your fleshy lips as you tried to keep the demons of your past on a leash — and ignore a sudden wave of nausea.

“I’m not going anywhere. If John is burning I might as well freeze.” Your reply was a bit blunter than intended, but Arthur got it. The way you watched the flames climb higher and higher left no doubt about the devastating anger raging inside. They will pay, you silently swore to John, convinced he could hear you from where he was. If bringing him back was out of your abilities, at least you could avenge him by bringing upon every single man who plotted his death a demise worse than death. Just like Thomas Shelby, they would soon know how much pain you could inflict with your tiny and delicate hands, the holiness of your appearance being nothing more than a facade to mask the methodical killer you were. To hell with the promise of not killing again, having blood on your hands seemed to be the price to pay for Arthur and his love. While you lost yourself in the meanders of your thoughts, the cacophonic detonations of gunshots roared in the quiet meadow.

You had barely heard them when, with movements nimble and quick, you pushed Arthur to the ground and stood still to protect him in a reflex you couldn’t fight. The booming sounds might have been loud, they didn’t made you flinch. Quite the contrary, your aquamarine eyes stared at the horizon in search of the slightest threat, just in case the shots fired hadn’t come from the Gold. For a very short while you had been the only one standing, all the Shelby clan on the ground with hands covering their head. Even Tommy, who had schemed the attack, played the safety card and remained covered just the time to make sure the shootings came from their side.

"For fuck's sake, Heaven." Arthur barked at you as he stood up on his long legs, ignoring Tommy in the background who was keeping everyone under his control by yelling. The lanky gangster's hand grabbed your fragile wrist firmly and pulled you closer to him again, steel blue eyes glowing with disapproval at your reckless behavior.

"That was Thomas’ plan right?” You simply replied, your reliable source of information being Aberama and Bonnie themselves -- it was a part of the many perks of living with them in the nearby woods.

“Come on, Angel! A plan ain't going to be always working ay. It could have been the Ital—“ The oldest Shelby brother, with his thick brows furrowed, could not finish his sentence for you hushed him by cupping his face with your freezing little hands. Falling silent, the wolf turned into a lamb as you gently pressed his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

"Chéri." You started, the pink tip of your tongue moistening your enchanting lips. Each of your movements seemed to bewitch him, to the extent that he almost forgot why he had been that irked, the inferno of his rage instantly cooling down, "I am fine see?” Despite the softness of your voice, he could sense a bit of impatience in your steady tone. Without leaving any time for questions or protests, you laid a small kiss on his cold lips, "We are fine." The melody of your voice was merely a whisper that vanished in the howling wind when your winter lips met his a second time for a deeper kiss. Soft and glossy flesh against rough one. A wild storm of happiness coursed through Arthur at the sensation of this long-awaited mark of affection tingling on his skin, and electrifying his heart. A rapture so strong that the world blurred around him for a moment — he would have probably slipped his tongue in your mouth if the moment wasn't inappropriate. When you pulled back from him, your lips curled in a faint but sincere smile before you squished his scruffy cheeks and released his face from your cold grip. After three years together, it was only at this very moment that Arthur understood that he wasn’t the true guardian and fellow protector of the couple. You were.

Fiercer. Crazier. And certainly far more dangerous.

"Put us out there on purpose... To use John's funeral fire as a fucking beacon!" Aunt Polly's outraged and trembling voice erupted from behind, her words stabbing Tommy like red-hot daggers. If they hurt, he didn’t let it show though. Forced to part from you before his brother and aunt went for each other’s throat, Arthur intervened.

"We were never in any danger, Polly."

"You set a trap. You set a trap with us as fucking bait." She blurted out, standing from her chair and walking to Tommy with steps so furious you were pretty sure she was going to plow into him. Indignation was radiating off her, her dark eyes wishing they had the power to kill. If it had been the case little King Shelby would have been already lying in a pool of his own blood, "Who's dead?!"

After his younger brother had tried to explain to the old harpy that the victims were two Italians, Arthur went on, "We got word to them about the funeral, the where, the when… Told them where to stand for the best shot."

"And Aberama Gold will do the rest." Tommy completed his brother's sentence as if he was an extension of himself — which was the case, you reckoned, when he wasn't busy criticizing you for breathing. From then, the voices only escalated, trying to overcome one another and win the argument by screaming louder than the other until someone eventually gave up. Which was a miracle that would never happen since we were talking about Tommy and Polly. Both of them were two equally stubborn mutts fighting for the same bone and how this argument ended had been predictable: The fierce aunt left, Hell shaking under her heels.

Now was the perfect opportunity to talk.

"Arthur," Your divine voice hailing him, resounding in the meadow like a haunting siren’s song, its unsettling melody sending shivers down Ada's spine. She glanced at you and, for a quick second, the memory of you covered with blood flashed in her mind. Years had passed since you murdered Father’s Hughes accomplice with a pair of scissors but she still couldn't forget what happened back then. She wouldn’t admit it but her trust in you had never been the same from this moment.

Snatched from his thoughts, Arthur turned around, frowning. The family argument had soured his mood.

"Hm?"

"Now I wanna leave." You stated, your seraphic tone as sharp as the razor blades in your man’s cap. This hostility wasn’t aimed at him though, but at Tommy for you had pronounced these four words while glaring at him, indescribable hatred burning in your frozen iris. You might have been aware of the plan, it didn’t mean you agreed with it: the idea of using John’s funeral still infuriated you but your mourning soul hadn’t the strength to fight it. "I'm going home.” Arthur's heart missed a beat, afraid of seeing you disappear again in the depths of the woods. It had been one hell of a harsh week without you and while he — hardly — understood that you needed space, his patience was growing thin, worn out by jealousy and overwhelming dependence. After all, if Aberama was a thief, why wouldn’t he steal his most precious treasure? Or worse, he’s son. Younger, healthier and so much more handsome than him, he thought with gritted teeth and hateful eyes.

"Oh yeah? " Coming closer, Arthur tried his best not to let his murderous jealousy talk and, instead, took a long black key from the pocket of his dark duffle coat "Home ain't with the Gold. Home's—"

"57 Watery Lane. I go there, lock the door and wait for my husband. S'that what you wanted to say?" You suggested, one eyebrow raised and your pale eyes staring at him like two fathomless and cursed jewels. Arthur swallowed nervously, the intense eye contact feeling like an eternity. Besides immediate regrets, the reason for his silence was that he was convinced he messed up again, judging by your sudden cold demeanor. So, afraid you’d lash out at him for his sudden jealousy, all he did was nod and try to keep his composure in front of everyone to pretend he was the one in charge. But you knew him too well not to recognize the sadness in his beautiful but vacant steel-blue eyes. You knew exactly what was going on in his head: he was expecting you to reject him in front of everyone, just like Linda used to do. “Alright” You articulated, and yet your reaction was the strict opposite of what he thought you’d do. Bringing your hand to his, you gave it a gentle squeeze before taking the key, "That’s the home I was talking about, love." You added, your glossy lips curling in a faint but oh-so-reassuring smile that made him swoon with indescribable fascination. Punctuating your sentence with a little wink, you finally turned your heels and left the meadow, your walk as elegant and confident as a fearsome lioness coming back from the hunt.

A predatory and frightful confidence that disappeared as soon as you reached your house. You had barely heard the sound of the door closing when, sick in the stomach, you rushed to the toilets and dropped on your knees to throw up.

"Fuck..." The curse escaped from your trembling lips as you quickly wiped them with a towel, tears beading at the corner of your aquamarine eyes. Polly was right: you did know when to pick your moment. As strong as you were, you had trouble coping with the news of your unexpected pregnancy. So much trouble that you couldn’t rejoice and that lack of enthusiasm only added a layer of guilt to your restless mind. “Fuck!” You snarled, teeth bared. Fuck you, them, all, and everything.

The sound of your platform boots' sharp heels echoed in the sanitized corridors of the hospital as you headed towards Michael's bedroom, your hips elegantly swinging to the rhythm of the silent savage drums of your heart. Tommy had called another lengthy and boring meeting to discuss both the Shelby Company Limited's new installments and the Vendetta, and as well as you dreaded his presence you had to be a part of it now that you were a Shelby. Moreover, the whole mess got even more problematic since Luca Changretta had managed to find a way to break into the Shelby factory and directly talk to his turquoise-eyed opponent for the sole pleasure of seeing a sparkle of panic in his eyes when he threatened to kill the rest of his family.

Surprising as it may sound considering your deep resentment for Tommy's long speeches and the man himself, you arrived pretty early. Not for him, but for Polly Gray. By coming earlier, you knew you'd have a bit of time to talk privately with her about the baby, for she had been the one discovering your secret pregnancy. “Hey Pol’!" You cheered, a wicker basket filled with pastries dangling at your wrist, "I've brought some croissants and éclairs. Thought it could help put up with today's meeting." The bright smile you bore soon vanished from your plumped lips when your winter eyes met with the dark silhouette of your brother-in-law, standing in front of you with his calloused hands in his pockets and his cold gaze staring at your angelic complexions with an unfathomable look. Turning into ice again, your small hand immediately reached for the door handle.

"Stay. We have to talk." He stated, his tone cool and composed. As much as he wanted his sentence not to sound like an order, he ultimately failed. As he talked, all the muscles in your body tense and you felt already irked by his presence.

"Don't." You snarled, your crystalline eyes squinting when they shot him a lethal glare, "Don't fucking come any closer." The sour and threatening expression on your face had been enough to stop Tommy. He was now clenching his perfectly carved jaw. Admittedly, he had never particularly cared about your personal space, invading it on every occasion he could just to push you to your limits and make you feel cornered, but since he had a taste of the ghastly and inhumane gift you had he'd rather be cautious.

"Alright," He said, pinching the bridge of his nose before rolling his eyes and moistening his lips in a surprisingly effusive pout. "No need to be that aggressive eh. Please have a sit." He instructed then, indicating a chair with a brief gesture of the hand.

"I ain't gonna sit. Polly tricked me.” You gritted through your teeth, spiteful at the thought of her betrayal. Your voice echoed through the room like sharp shards of frost falling from a winter sky. "You both knew that I didn't want to be left alone in a room with you anymore and still you schemed this twisted little plan." The cadence of your speech, though measured, carried an Arctic chill that made Tommy shiver. Even with the short distance that separated you, he could almost feel the ice you were made of burning his skin through the many layers of his expensive three-piece suit. In fact, you might be calm but Tommy could still feel the rumble of the storm hidden in that soft and enchanting lilt of yours.

"No one tricked you, and yes, indeed, I knew it. That's why Polly will be here with us. She's coming in any minute. Feel better now? Can you fucking sit?" Your only reply was a mocking snort that was quick to stir anger in Tommy's heart despite the placid expression etched on his face. But no matter how fine and cold the marble he was carved from was, you could see the tumultuous current beneath it. Maybe that was one of the main reasons why he hated you: no matter how hard he tried, you always managed to get under his skin and make him falter.

Silent fell in the hospital room, the two of you staring stonily at each other as you both attempted to decipher the opponent's intentions. "Seriously," Tommy was the first to move, coming nearer despite your warning — part of him did it only to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid of you. As he approached, your sharp sense heard the faint sound of his heart beating slightly quicker than usual and his breath struggling to keep quiet. Closer he came, until he stood only inches away from you, the warmth of his body brushing your skin without even touching it, and the musky scents of his cologne ticking your nostrils. " I meant it you know ay. I meant it when I said we have to end this war between us," You remained motionless, eyes staring at him, "Shut the door on it". In the hushed ambiance of the bedroom, he started to move around you with a gait that mirrored the stealthy elegance of a beast navigating its territory. His steps were a silent predatory waltz, a calculated and deliberate one that could have been dizzying if he wasn't walking around you this slowly, "At least temporarily." The air seemed to ripple with a subtle tension as he circled you like a panther, hiding his fear of you behind an aura of primal confidence, "I'm sure we could both benefit from it, ain't that the truth." You slowly exhaled as he talked, realizing you've been holding your breath for a while.

"What about backing off me and shutting your mouth until Polly comes?" You whispered, your aquamarine eyes carefully following every step he took. Admittedly, there was an undeniable magnetism in the way he moved, almost too smoothly and captivating to be human. In a primal reflex, your lips curled and you showed your pearly teeth. Beneath the shared expanse of your untamed wilderness, a silent battle waged within, as his large and strong hand delicately found rest upon your arm. The skin-to-skin contact sent an unpleasant thrill through your body. Tommy was like a big cat facing another one, testing the waters and carefully studying the line he shouldn't cross for you to snap. All in all, it was a contest whose goal was not to be the first to shy away. His fingers ghosted over your arms, trailing down your skin with an unsettling tenderness. Unwilling to cause another scandal or murder him, you gathered all your willpower not to react even when he leaned above you, looking down at your seraphic traits with curiosity gleaming in his turquoise eyes, "How did it feel when we kissed?" His words, like tempestuous whispers, stirred a sudden symphony of panic and indignation within. "Because you've... Felt."

"I did." You finally admitted, tearing through the silence you've been walling yourself in. All the ice melted in a few seconds, and your face relaxed a little bit. Two hopeful details that ignited both Tommy's gaze and ego -- of course you did, he thought.

"Look at me." His voice turned a bit softer as you slowly raised your gaze to his face.

"Do you really need me to say it out loud, Tom?" As you inched dangerously closer to him, he heard the ambient sounds of the crowded hospital fade into a distant murmur

"I do." The drumming of his heart fastened as a faint smile toyed on your lips. The proximity of your mouth, bewitchingly close yet not quite touching, was killing him. Let alone the brush of your skin under his fingertips and the shared warmth of your breaths mingling in the same intimate airspace. How beautiful you would be together. How fierce. How... Unstoppable. That was all he could think of.

"Disgust." It fell from your mouth with the softness of a chainsaw blade cutting through his guts. Tommy's eyes widened, his ego crashing on the ground and shattering like a broken mirror. He didn't react at first, confused by your harsh words, which contrasted with your angelic smile, "I felt disgusted." You tilted your head to the side, your face turning into winter again, "Now you better move from the way if you don’t want me to crush your lungs."

Tommy was about to back off in terror when he saw you moving your fingers in that peculiar way he was too familiar with.

"Sorry for being late." Polly's voice erupted in the room, saving you from spending another minute alone with Tommy. God blessed her.

"Let me help you with that." He finally said, trying his best to keep his composure at the realization that he would never be able to predict you. Never be able to control nor to own you. His fingers closed on the basket’s handle, right above your reddened wrist, and they lifted it to relieve your frail arm from the pain before he quickly stepped away from you.

"Alright, glad to see the two of you didn't butcher each other in my absence. What a wonderful improvement."

"An improvement that is." Tommy replied, pressing his palms against the table now that he had put the basket on its wooden surface.

" I was talking with the doctor about Michael's health. We have a very short time left: he's almost done with him, and both Ada and Lizzie are coming. Heaven, dear, what about Arthur?" Polly inquired, her black eyes meeting yours.

"He's still in his office at the Shelby factory. But I must admit I thought that it would be only you and me." You stated resentfully.

"I know, love and I'm sorry about it but you wouldn't have come if I told you that Tommy was here." Her cold and sly hand gently squeezed your arm in a gentle gesture, so soft and full of motherly love that you couldn't really blame her anymore. Taking a quick look at the clock on the wall, you sighed and took place on a chair just like Polly did.

"Hurry up. Tell me what's about."

"Ain't going to keep you waiting,” Tom started and went straight to the point, motivated by the desire to see you leave this room as soon as possible, “ I want you to meet Luca Changretta."

"Thomas!" You exclaimed.

"No. You listen to me now," The gangster replied, pointing at you with his index finger, "As you know I've encountered him in the meeting room of the Shelby Company factory. We came to an agreement that stipulates that women and children shouldn't be included in the Vendetta. With that, we can guarantee a certain safety for you, Polly, Ada, Finn, and the kids."

"How... Quaint." You stated, pursing your lips in a bratty pout, "And what's the link between your deal and me potentially meeting the man who wants to see my husband dead?"

"Considering this, one of the women of this family can approach him. The idea was that Polly could meet with him and ask him to spare the family, especially Michael. In return, she would lure me into a specific place and at a specific time so that this bastard can set an ambush and kill me." As Tommy explained the original plan, you side-eyed Polly who nodded at each sentence in an attempt to reassure you.

"The problem is Luca knows the strong bond I have with my nephews. Even if I use the role of the mother ready to do everything to save her son, I fear it won't be enough to convince him. But you..." She left her sentence hanging, Tommy's raspy voice completing it. Shelbys, you swore. Sometimes you wondered if they had some telepathic shit going on between them.

"You despise me as much as Luca does but still bore the name Shelby. You'd be perfect." His gaze almost burnt you.

"Makes sense." You replied, fingers playing nervously with your dress' fabric under the table as you swallowed all the information just heard. Against all odds, his idea was impressively clever — Tommy might have a plethora of flaws but stupidity wasn’t one of them.

"Polly will help you arrange a meeting with him in a club. You talk with him, explain how you do this to save your husband, and if he asks more questions proceed with talking about our relationship." Now that they had finished revealing their plan, Tommy and his aunt were both staring at you, impatiently waiting for your answer.

"Well, I've heard enough." You simply said, getting up from your chair and making your way to the bedroom's door under the two pairs of confused eyes. Once you reached it, you grabbed the handle and watched them from above your shoulder, an amused but sharp grin dancing on your lips. "When Apocalypse comes, it seems like even Thomas Shelby wants the Devil on his team." You teased, entertained by the situation. No matter his neutral demeanor, he needed you. And that was a satisfying feeling. "That's fine with me." Your quick agreement was certainly not something Tommy and Polly expected, judging by the way they looked at you, and then at each other to make sure they heard well. But as illogical as it seemed, the reasons behind your will to get involved in the Vendetta were a matter of course: You were sick of playing the nice and fragile wife who nervously waited for her husband. You didn't come all the way back to Birmingham to be a quiet and patient little thing. You came to make them all shatter and shake at your fingertips. All you wished was to protect your man and show the world that they better fear Arthur Shelby's wife as much as him if it isn't more.

Polly followed on your heels when you opened the door, grabbing your arm and leading you outside.

"The hell you're doing?" You inquired, surprised by her sudden strength.

"One last thing. I need you to keep Arthur busy and to make him come too late for the meeting." The fierce aunt's grip closed a bit firmer around your wrist, making you wince.

"Why that ay? He has every right to attend it. He's the vice president deputy of that company as well as the oldest brother." If there was one thing Polly expected, it was you defending your husband tooth and nail. And yet she had many tricks in her sleeve.

"We don't want him to pull the trigger anymore. It's time for him to delegate and stay out of the battlefield. We didn't climb the social ladder this high to keep dirtying our hands."

Polly's speech made you blink, astonished one could scheme behind a family member's back. "Hey, that's freaking unfair for Art. You have to discuss the matter with him, it's his job we're talking. Ouch!" You whimpered when she squeezed you harder, her eyes begging you to listen.

"Think about the baby! It will need its father! We don't want him in danger any longer so please, please keep him busy just like we, women, know how to do. It's the modern approach, White Devil."

"Modern approach. Of course.”

"Oh, Angel." Arthur said, his gravel voice underlined with a light surprise when he saw you entering his office. He was putting on his long black coat, ready to leave for the family meeting. As soon as his piercing blue eyes landed on your delicate frame he walked towards you, "Why you here? You alright? " He immediately inquired, his protective nature had grown far bigger since you'd joined him in this cursed city. The soft glow of affection shone in your eyes as you looked at him, your glossy and plump lips greeting him with a bestowed smile so sweet and radiant with love that the hurricane of worries in Arthur's skull hushed down.

"Everything's alright!" You hung your coat on a hook.

"Ain't it good news, ay." He cheered despite being in a hurry, before putting his large and rough hands on your forearms with an adorable bluntness so specific to him and rubbing them to warm your skin up, "Well look, lovely to see you but I'm late for a meeting."

"Just five minutes." You asked, coming closer until your breasts flattened against his chest, "Five teeny-tiny minutes, please?" The way your eyebrows raised and your mouth pouted enlightened your angelic face with an irresistible bratty look that never failed to get him on his knees. Arthur quickly moistened his lips while weighing the pros and cons, but it didn't take long for him to make up his mind. Especially when gazing upon that woman-child face of yours.

"Alright, alright." His raspy voice blurted out. Arthur brought his fingers in your hair to slip one of your long white locks behind your ear with an indescribable tenderness. "Needy little thing already missed her husband eh?" He cooed with amusement, his strict facial traits melting as he talked to you, tamed by your presence.

"I did.” You purred with a quick but oh-so-sincere smile, “But I also need to talk to you. Sit, please?” You suggested, the amusement of your tone brightening up his dull day. Joining motion to speech, you gently pushed him back with your two index fingers pressed on his chest. Arthur followed your movements, a bewitched smirk etched on his mouth. Just like your own reflection, each time you took a step forth he took one back until the back of his knees bumped against the desk chair. Enthralled and with lust-dilated pupils, his eyes spoke a love that transcended words. Arthur’s body finally dropped on the chair, and if he was already focused on nothing else but you, the whole universe faded into utter insignificance when you sat on his lap, straddling him. The contact between your two hips ignited a vivid desire within, which spread through his bones like wildfire and got a satisfied “hum” from him.

“What it is ye want to say?” Arthur asked, the hoarseness of his voice carrying a softness no one suspected him to hide. Despite everything you’ve been through lately, including the indescribable disappointment due to his drug relapse, you had allowed your relationship to slowly heal. You had been crystal clear, now the ball was in his court. Arthur was obviously still on trial, well aware that he needed to outperform himself to gain your precious trust back but at least you came home right after John’s funeral, and that was all that mattered.

A very short but comfortable silence floated over the room at his question, your reply taking the form of your fingers losing themselves in his slicked-back hair, massaging his head.

“Are you really in a rush?” Your voice, a delicate dance of enchantment and teasing, wove through the air and left Arthur even more captivated than he already was while you relished on every little adorable of his face — his myriad freckles were surely one of your favorite features of him. Finally, a long exhale escaped from your nostrils. How much you would have loved to stay locked up here with him forever, just you, him, and the baby, far away from this cruel world… “Peu importe ce qui se passe tu sais que je serai toujours à tes côtés, n'est-ce pas?” (translation: No matter what happens you know I'll always stand by your side, don't you?)

"I know." He replied in English. The sensation of your fingertips applying the perfect pressure on his head combined with your haunting French got him definitely wrapped around your finger. The lanky gangster was at the very edge of purring, his eyes half-closed and his piercing and intoxicated iris looking at you through his dark lashes.

As he enjoyed your massage, Arthur made the most of your proximity and let his palms wander on your dainty body, unable to keep them off you. In truth, it was nearly impossible for him not to become all handsy when you were around, no matter the where and the when. His rough hands roamed all over your being, invading every part of you. He was everywhere, softly kneading your small breasts, then trailing down your ribs to finally end his exploration on your hips he seized more firmly, almost bruising them in the process “I must say ya one hell of a cruel witch, love. You come here all hot and bratty.” He cooed, the gravel in his voice rumbling. It was so low, so powerful that it didn’t even sound like a voice but a feeling. His peculiar tone was an inextinguishable fire that enveloped your body, scorched your core, and wrapped your tired mind in a comforting haze. “Makes me feel bad to leave without taking care of ya like a good husband would do, right here on me desk…” You replied with an adorable giggle and Arthur slightly bucked his hips to press himself more against you, just for the sole pleasure of feeling his body colliding with yours. It’s not enough, he thought. It was never enough. There was always too much fabric, too much space, too much of everything between you except when he was buried deep inside of your core, both of you making one as you were meant to be. Another wave of excitement coursed through you, and you had to fight against the irresistible haze he stirred within. Delicate as a feather, you put your two tiny hands on his cheeks and raised his face for your eyes to meet — flaring steel sinking in lethal frost. “But tell me, what's that important hm?”

“First you have to promise me to stay calm. Will you?” You asked, batting your eyelashes like an untamable child about to tell her dad she had just destroyed the expensive family vase. The kind of look that drove Arthur crazy. Sometimes he still found himself astounded by how your face could go from terrifyingly cold to adorably childish. Saying that your words didn’t awaken a bit of worry inside of him would be a lie, but one sole glace at your angelic traits was enough to keep his rage leashed.

“Gonna try me best for ya, hm.” His dark blue irises were enraptured by the movements of your lips each time you spoke — your words were blurring, and his attention was turning into obsession: He missed you. Body, heart, and soul. “Hev…” He sighed in delight as your small hands abandoned his face to strip him from his vest, unbutton his shirt, and then paw at his chest.

“You won’t interrupt?” You mused, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and mouthing against his warm skin. Your thumbs were now tracing circles on his chest, smoothing his hairs. 

“Told ya, angel. Your Arthur will try to be a good boy.”

“Well… I went to the hospital to keep company to Polly. I thought we would discuss trivial things but then she asked me to keep you busy.” You finally admitted, “She and Thomas wanted you to miss today’s meeting.” As painful words melt with the delightful sensations of your caresses, the sky in Arthur’s eyes darkened with black and stormy clouds. His body stiffened under yours.

“What the fuck that’s s’posed to mean?”  He growled, anger already boiling in his veins like a dangerous geyser about to burst. Fortunately enough, your calming presence helped him contain his violent temper — such was your almost supernatural effect on him. Different and yet so similar, Arthur Shelby was made of destructive fire that burnt the people around him as much as him. And yet, his fire never really intended to hurt: quite the contrary, it sought to stay warm and inviting, like a low fire dancing in a hearth. When it blazed out of control, even he couldn't prevent the damage done. You, on the other hand, were made of water. Just like a dangerously cold ocean, you were terrifying, infinite, and relentless, your calm prone to silent but always deadly tempests. “Why the fuck would they do that?!” He cursed louder this time. Feeling your man’s temper wearing thin, you gave a gentle lick on his neck to snatch his attention from his corrosive emotions. Your flat tongue trailed up his sharp jaw to his earlobe — the wet and hot caress on his skin sent thrills of arousal all over him and allowed his mind to focus on something more pleasant than this cruel betrayal.

“Because they want you to stop pulling the trigger.” You explained as quietly as you could, gently rubbing your cheek against his like a cat looking for both affection and attention. It seemed to do the trick: his face was still distorted with latent rage, the thick vein in his temple pumping, but at least he wasn’t turning the office over with his fists nor was he yelling so, overall, it was still a win.  “Modern approach they call it.” You added, using Polly's exact words to the difference that you peppered his lips with small pecs, talking between each pair of smooches to make the pill easier to swallow, “You become a general and Aberama takes care of Changretta… That’s their plan.”  

Breathing loudly through his nose, the gangster pressed his lips together until they formed a very thin line, “Modern approach ay?” Anger coiled like a snake amids the hurricane of his resentment, its hiss echoing through Arthur’s skull.  “They just wanna take me job away.” He stated, more for himself than anyone else, still digesting the news. “And they want to use ya against me? Bloody pricks.” Overpowered by an immense feeling of injustice, Arthur didn’t realize that he was digging his fingers in your thighs a bit more painfully than intended, but his roughness only fanned the flames of your own wickedness. Your skillful fingers explored him, nails brushing his ribs, then palms caressing his slim abs as if seeking to defuse the ticking bomb he was.

“I wanted to tell you everything because nothing in this fucking world will make me stand against you... I may agree with the idea of keeping you safe from harm but not at the expense of your trust.” You confessed,  finally pulling your face from his neck and wrapping him in a relieving hug with your frail arms. If he hadn’t kept his eyes open, he would have sworn that it wasn’t your arms that were surrounding him but two soft and protective feathery wings. His rough hands, which hadn't moved, spread your thighs further to feel your warmth through the thin fabric of your lace thong. Fireworks exploded in you at the hard bulge that was pressing between your legs, making you bite your fleshy lip. Arthur finally let out a long sigh and shook his head, wanting the only thing that could wash away the rage that was eating him up — one of his hands left your flesh only for his fingers to slip between your parted thighs and shift your undergarment to the side.

"C'm'here," He ordered, his breathing increasingly louder and faster.

"Love, you should really go to this meeting." You advised, shivering at the feeling of his long fingers fondling your slit.

"To hell with their meeting, they don't even want me here eh. Need ye right now." With skillful movements, he unzipped his fly and lowered his trousers just enough to free his half-hardened cock and slid it between your sensitive folds, the pleasure and anticipation crashing against you like a rogue wave against the shore. "I feel me bloody mind drift again... And I know I'mma butcher someone if yer lovely lil' cunt doesn't keep me warm." The ghost of a little smirk danced on his lips, mustache lifting on the right side of his mouth when he noticed that his words had the effect he wished for: More of your wetness trickled along his shaft and you had started to grind against him, low key moaning. “I don't fucking know what I'll do without ya..." Without waiting another minute, the gangster lined up with your begging entrance and slowly pushed his swollen tip inside.

"Yes, f-fuck them." You sighed, your nails digging into his back and your legs quivering at the overwhelming feeling of him stretching you. Usually, Arthur wasn't the patient kind and, as it was the case at this very moment, all he wanted to slam his far-too-big cock in you in one forceful thrust to have you whimper and wiggle above him, and yet, he wished to keep it languid for now. It wasn't a rough fuck he wanted, at least for now, but sexual and emotional comfort. The first sweet fantasy that plagued his mind wasn't to cum, but rather to enjoy the blissful and addictive sensation of his thick length opening your throbbing walls inch by inch and filling you entirely.

"There, I know ye can take it all." He gently bumped your cheek with his nose while his smirk turned into a sharp-toothed grin pitching half between the remnant of his anger and satisfaction.

“S’too big…” You stuttered, eyes shut and the telltale of a blush painting across your doll face. With toes curling in your high heels and your arms around his neck, you rolled your eyes in the back of your head as he pushed further. It never seemed to end, and yet it always ended up fitting despite your size difference.

“Bloody Hell, how are ya so tight after years of me ruining ya?" His words were spoken with animal growls — The truth was he had always loved the fact you were too small for him in every sense of the term. Despite the pain, a frail whimper escaped from your mouth, soon accompanied by your legs naturally parting more, instinctively submitting to him and his needs. With a meaner thrust, Arthur had no other choice but to force the way one last time to fill you completely, and when it was finally done, he let out a loud moan at the way your tight walls hugged him. "Shh, shh, that's okay." His strong hands seized your hips stronger to keep you from wiggling and pulling them back in reflex, "A good girl ye are hmm?" You nodded. It was only when his length hit your deepest spot that Arthur stopped, buried inside of you, hard and unmoving, your bodies entirely connected. Another whine escaped from your mouth, a little protesting sound that drove him mad with lust and almost made him forget that his initial desire was just to keep you sitting nice and quiet on his cock. “C’mon love, t’wasnt that hard. Ye should be used to it.” The only reply he got was you rolling your hips to adjust to his size for a comfortable cockwarming session — the most effective thing you had found to tame his wicked tantrums or his adrenaline-fueled passions. The first time had been hell for him, who seemed to be unable not to pound you once he penetrated you — and yet he had learned to love every little thing of it: The intimacy, the constant but manageable pleasure, the cock-drunk and appeased look on your face…

"Missed you, Art'...'" You breathed and hummed, barely rolling your hips but still slightly moving on his cock to enjoy it massaging your velvety walls, "Aren't you angry anymore?" You asked a bit too sheepishly to be true, laying a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Nah, not anymore 'cause yer a nice angel for your husband,” He grabbed your ass firmly, long fingers adorned with cold rings spreading on your cheeks to have a wider grip “Making him find peace between your legs ay?” The stretch had become comfortable by now, and you were both fully enjoying each other, him completely high by your warmth and wetness. “Making him pray God with your holy pussy.” 

“God…” You sighed, throwing your head back, feeling perfectly full — maybe a bit too much even though pain blurred with exquisite ecstasy. “B-But think about it, Arthur. What about letting Aberama do the job? We would stay locked up in the house and do nothing but fuck until the whole Vendetta is over and we go back home?” You suggested, flush burning your porcelain cheeks and giving them a rosy color. The melody of your words — along with how good he felt deep inside of you —snatched a low moan from him. Yet, as much as he yearned for your offer, his conscience needed blood. 

“Got no choice, love.” His two hands left your body shortly to grab each side of your lace dress and take it out, throwing the garment somewhere in his office to have you exposed and vulnerable while he was still fully dressed. Once naked, he cupped your small breasts and started kneading them with blunt caresses that made you squeal: you were already sensitive due to your hidden pregnancy. “John wants me to do it.”

"Fuck!" You cursed when he moved along with you, your hips dancing together and intensifying the burning arousal that was saturating your senses. Soon, splitting you open and having you moaning on his cock wasn't enough anymore. His arms suddenly wrapped you possessively, pulling your two bodies even closer. So close the cold gold of his cross necklace on your skin sent thrills of pleasure down your spine. "He wouldn't want you to risk your life."

“It was me who shot the old man.” Arthur’s mouth, eager to find yours, crashed against your lips in a kiss so passionate that it took your breath away. One of them rough hands stroked your back in an overwhelming cocktail of caresses and scratches, waltzing on every inch of your skin while the other pinched one of your nipples. A second kiss captured your mouth, his tongue making its way into your parted lips to seek yours, not minding the thin trickle of saliva at the corner of them. “John is dead because of me,” He breathed between two savage kisses, “And I’m gonna make it right.” His voice was merely a low whisper combined with ragged breaths and low, gravelly moans.

"S'that was you want?" You managed to ask, losing your fingers in his hair and your mind in a fog of carnal delight. Forehead pressed against forehead, you reopened your frozen eyes and dived into his, words becoming more and more useless as a tornado of raw emotions and sincerity swirled in the blue of his iris: His need to avenge John was visceral and you understood that his mind wouldn't be able to find rest if he couldn't kill Luca Changretta, hence putting an end to the vicious cycle of vengeance. And you definitely hadn't the heart to deny him this unhealthy yet efficient way of exorcising both his guilt and his baby brother's death. “So be it.” You finally granted, endless love shining in your eyes. After all, if there was something you could understand it was vengeance. Torturing and butchering five men didn’t bring your family back, but the pleasure of watching life slipping away from them had nonetheless helped you put up with that excruciating wound, "But when you’ll kill that bastard put two bullets through his head. One for you, and one for me.” You concluded, shifting your body slightly to take the gun that was on his desk before wrapping his neck with your two arms again. And then the mask of the lamb fell, shattering on the ground and revealing the wolf you were. A wolf that was smiling and moaning, its thumb softly caressing the weapon’s metal.

"I'll do that, little one." A smile beamed on his face as you allowed him to carry on his personal vendetta — or as he felt the sensation of the gun resting against his back, his joy finding a delicious echo in his body. The circular movements of his hips turned into deep and full-length thrusts that had you throwing your head back and chanting his name.

“Mr. Shelby! “

“I’m fookin’ busy!” Arthur’s booming voice roared in the office as he slammed the door right at the man’s face. The access to the room might have been forbidden to him, but the cacophony of savage fucking and the noise of the office’s blinds being shaken left no doubt on what was happening. He finally gave up, well aware that nothing would make his boss come. It was only when he told him that two intruders had been spotted in the factory that Arthur stormed out of the room, disheveled, shirt quickly buttoned u,p and with a hammer in one hand. A bloodbath was coming and since nothing could be done to prevent it, Ben went back to work and tried to ignore the upcoming mess. With a bit of luck, they would manage to put down the rabid beast Arthur Shelby was. Soon after his departure, the white-haired girl left, snuggled up in her white fur coat and walking as elegantly as always, even if she was slightly staggering on her heels after what the gangster did to her.

“Poor girl.” Barney — another worker recently hired — stated, glancing at you as you passed by. “She’s nice. Y’know she brings us treats and pastries sometimes… What a shame that young lady had been forced to elope with this bastard.”

“Poor girl?” Ben replied to his colleague, almost choking. “Forced wedding? You’re really new here, mate. Can’t believe the doll blinded you. Something’s off with her. And forced wedding… All you have to do is pay attention to the way they look at each other and then you’ll understand. And it will frighten you.”

“Ya really talking about sweet lamb Heaven?”

Ben scoffed, “A lamb… When your eyes meet Heaven Shelby’s nobody can’t tell if she wanna braid your hair or eat your heart. Lamb she’s not. Don’t get fooled by the dresses and heels, she’s not playing doll. She only makes violence look better.”

Barney became silent at his friend’s sordid statement, the far away sound of Arthur yelling, bones breaking and agonizing screams resounded in the depths of the factory along with the machines’ roars. Amidst the smells of hot metal, sweat, and paint, lingered the spring-like fragrances of your perfume, which confused him even more.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

[evita-shelby]

1000 Followers

Gif by @filmgifs

Thank you all of you who follow me, who lurk, who reblog and especially those who actually talk to me.

I love you all and to celebrate this milestone we have these

💋 WWED/What would Eva do? (Where you send a question and I answer as only our favorite witch would)

💋pick a prompt from the links at the bottom to send as a request

💋send a gif or pic as a prompt

💋take Eva or any of my OCs for a spin

💋 send any gift of your choice

💋 drop into my asks for anything you feel like doing

Masterlist

Links for prompts:

One

Two

Three

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Romance, fluff, hurt/comfort, and the occasional heartbreak.

Peaky Blinders, Sherlock, Tangerine, Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Marauders

Peaky Blinders

Kidnapped - Tommy Shelby X Reader - Pt. 2

Reader gets taken and Tommy does everything he can to get her back - kidnapping, torture / hurt /comfort confession of feelings

Arthur Shelby X OC Joey Request - Catching feelings / hurt / comfort

Falling Hard - Tommy Shelby X Pregnant Reader

She falls off the horse - Rated G, Cute fluffiness, Worried Tommy

Meet Cute - Tommy Shelby X Reader

 Proper courting, Rated G, Tommy falls for reader at a party

Domestic - Tommy Shelby X Wife Reader

 Cooking, Baking, Slight hurt comfort, Tommy being a good dad, kids being little, just lots of fluffy goodness

Self-Defense - Tommy Shelby X Reader

He defends her but she can defend herself - Teen for violence Hurt / Comfort

Girls Outing - Tommy X Wife Reader

Attempted Murder, mild description of attempted sexual assault, Murder, Tommy Comforts reader, Hurt / Comfort

Time Travel - Tommy Shelby x X-Men Reader

 Rated Teen for extreme heart break, time travel, romance, X-Men themes

The One That Got Away - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Hurt and pain. Charlie gets kidnapped and Reader has to make a difficult choice

Campbell - Tommy X Reader Wife - Pt 2.

She’s beaten by Campbell and eventually talks - Mature content - Reader is beaten badly and miscarries. Tommy comforts her.

Stay Home - Tommy X Wife Reader

He doesn’t want her to work while pregnant.

Heart Broken - Tommy Shelby X Reader

You just got broken up with - Fluff, Comfort Tommy

First Wizarding War - Tommy Shelby X Reader (HP crossover)

Reader gets attacked, falling in love, pre war, then post war follow up

Protecting What's His - Tommy Shelby X Pregnant Wife Reader

When someone breaks into the house Tommy has to protect what’s his - violence, shock / panic is described. Fluff at the end & kissing

Scarlet Witch - Tommy X Magic Reader

She has kept her powers hidden but Tommy and the family find out! Reader saves the day with her magical abilities.

Sold Down the River - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Reader gets sold to Tommy Shelby by her fiancé. Her and her baby have to adjust to arrow house

Animal Shelter - Tommy Shelby X Reader -- Pt.2

When Tommy gets Charlie a dog from the pound he doesn’t expect to take the bubbly worker home as well.

The One That Almost Got Away - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Tommy and the reader play hard to get until Polly puts and end to things. Drama, trust issues, happy ending, Polly to the rescue.

The Doctor - Shelby Sister X Alfie Solomons

he reader is underappreciated so she leaves and begins her own life. After becoming a doctor she falls back to her family and finds out that not all things are lost. Mending her heart she also finds her way back to a long lost love…..

Kisses - Finn Shelby X Reader

The one where the reader ends up with a marked up neck, the family is determined to find the culprit only to find out it was one of their own.

The Witch - Tommy Shelby X Reader

 The reader is a witch who can tell the future but she definitely did not see him coming.

Childhood Bestie - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Even though he married Grace true love never dies - even when you almost do 

Mean Boyfriend - Finn Shelby X Orphaned Reader

The Reader happens to have a mean boyfriend. Good thing the Shelby’s have a strict *no mean boyfriends allowed* rule at the garrison.

The Smallest Blinder - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The boys hate having to watch over her, but more often than not she’s the one that saves the day 

Quiet Working Girl - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Reader is hired on to work at the Garrison, and Tommy takes an interest in her. When things start to fall apart, she’s the first person he suspects. He makes a right mess of things again, but this time he’s not so sure if he can fix it.

Cold - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Head cannons about a woman who never smiles and how the Shelby family would interact with her.

Ambition - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The reader always wanted a big life and so did Tommy. Promises were made and the reader comes to cash in

Sickness - Tommy Shelby X Lizzie Shelby

Lizzie makes a difficult decision to hide her diagnosis from Tommy. She goes off on her own much like he does, when word reaches him of Lizzie’s illness he has to find a way to make peace with her before it’s too late.

Spellbound - Marauders Reader X Tommy Shelby - Series

The reader leaves the magical world - not knowing what else to do she sees an advert for a bartender. Having worked at Three Broom Sticks she figured it couldn’t be that different. Falling for her boss and getting sucked into the complicated crime underworld of Birmingham was not a part of her plan

I Can Fight - John Shelby X Reader

Having been in a toxic relationship she learns what it means to be with John Shelby.

Languages Expert - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The boys assume Tommy only keeps the reader around because she’s pretty to look at. when a deal starts to go sideways they quickly learn the importance of having a language expert

Lunch Dates - Tommy Shelby X Reader

with limited time and lots of stress you decide to take a breath and get some lunch with your husband.

Rejected - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The reader isn’t interested in what Tommy has going on

The Kindest Blinder - Tommy Shelby X Reader Wife

Tommy’s wife isn’t what people expect. Her soft kindness is visible to anyone that see’s her. She’d do anything for her family, but when she’s pushed to the limit a different side of her shows.

Grace - Tommy Shelby x Reader

When she showed up to reclaim the love of her life, she wasn’t expecting you to be there.

Pregnant? - Tommy X Reader

The reader doesn’t realize she’s pregnant and a big surprise awaits the family 

Mr. Brightside - Tommy X Reader

Tommy realizes his feelings for you, too bad he’s too late and you’ve already found a guy.

Bad Habits - Tommy Shelby X Lizzie Shelby

Tommy struggles with his drinking thankfully Lizzie is always around to help.

The Mark of a Kiss - Sherlock's Sister X Tommy Shelby

Sherlock's other sister solves a mystery involving the notorious Tommy Shelby

Come on Barbie - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Thomas sits back and wonders how his girl manages her crazy lifestyle.

I've Got My Eye on You - Tommy Shelby X Reader

A traumatic event has left the reader with one eye and an emotionless appearance. Captivated by her beauty and voice Tommy tries to get to know her better

Sherlock - Enola Holmes

The Mystery of the Shelby Sister - Sherlock X Peaky Sister Reader

Sherlock tries his best to ignore his neighbor but when Enola gets attached it becomes increasingly difficult.  Extras - Big Kiss

Tangerine - Bullet Train

Angst - Tan X Reader

Things go from bad to worse leaving you two very far apart…

Geralt of Rivia

Surprises - Geralt X Reader

Geralt of Riva finds out you are pregnant with his baby 

Wade Wilson & Peter Parker

Tired - Hurt & Comfort

Trusted - Hurt & Comfort / Seeing his face for the first time

No Powers - SpideyPool

The Amazing Panic Attack - SpideyPool

Peter has a panic attack after saving someone that looks like Gwen. After being MIA Wade comes to find him, and after a whole lot of comfort, their relationship takes a new direction.

Marauders

Head Cannons

[pacifymebby]

Love In a Haunted House

I wrote this for @zablife 's 2k celebration. Congratulations again lovely and thank you for coming up with this cool and creative spooky little idea for a celebration!!! This was lots of fun to write, I am so sorry it's so so long, I guess I got a little carried away!!! I also hope that I've done this right and its at least somewhere in the realms of what you were hoping for!!!!

˚｡⋆♡ ༘˚🌛🦢🌜˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The Shelby Manor was everything she'd been warned it would be but it was also so much worse...

It had begun that very first night, the night of the welcome home party being held in your honour. The newly weds happily returned home from their honeymoon. Tommy and his beautiful - almost too beautiful - bride.

You had stood hand in hand whilst Arthur had made his somewhat awkward celebratory speech, wishing prosperity, wishing happiness and many, many babies, a speech which could have been written for anyone. A speech which sounded as though it had already been spoken once, for someone else, one of those other women had loved before he'd loved you.

You'd stood there at the center of the ballroom trying to ignore the clawing sensation of suspicious eyes trailing you, studying and scrutinising you. Every mumur which drifted to you over the music disturbed you, tugged at your own suspicions. The suspicion that you just didn't quite match up to the woman who had once stood where you stood now. Who had once been held by the hands which held you now, one on your waist, one on your cheek. The eyes which looked into yours, perhaps they searched yours for the echo of someone else.

Tommy had done his best to reassure you, he'd told you that his family were always suspicious of outsiders.

"We have to be careful angel, they know that, it takes them a long time to put their trust in strangers but don't worry..."

"What if I am worried Tommy?"

"If you are then you shouldn't be, they won't let you stay a stranger very long..."

At first you hadn't been certain what he meant by that, the glow of warmth in his eyes doing little to quell your nerves. However when finally you began to meet them you started joining the dots.

They were curious. That is to say they asked a lot of questions and even when they weren't asking a question their eyes shimmered and shadowed with them. Unspoken remarks, things they knew they didn't need to say. Even the little compliments they did give felt backhanded or riddled with hidden meaning.

From Aberama and the infamous Aunt Pol, whom Tommy had always talked so fond and so proud of, to Arthur, Ada, John and Finn... some of Tommy's treasured siblings, the ice had felt thick. They were all so much colder than Tommy had told you they would be. All of them icy behind their grey and blue eyes. Ada hadn't a thing to say to you that wasn't accompanied by a smirk. John had looked at you with the removed serenity of a ghost. That is to say he didn't look serene at all.

Michael, the cousin, had been reserved but his friend Isaiah had been charming, the warmest person in the room and the only person who offered you any kind of real welcome. But it was Isaiah that had started the trouble. Or at least it was the girl his laughter and summoned.

"There you are Fen, where's you sister?" Tommy had smiled at the youngest Shelby sibling as she wrapped her arms around Isaiah's shoulders and stood on tiptoe to rest her chin in the crook of his neck. Her eyes fixed on you, flickered over you and then glared cold and stubborn into your eyes.

You could only watch, struck with a shyness that Sylvia Gray was no stranger to. It happened all the time, especially when she was dressed as she was now - as if she'd just dropped in from a night at the ballet, her white tights shimmering, her silk skirt draped from her hips like wilting petals about to fall.

She had a grey, clouded gaze and when she let her eyes rest on you you felt a cold creep up your spine. Icy fingers on the back of your neck.

"Ask Bonnie..." she shrugged refusing to look at her brother. Her eyes unblinking, fixed on you. You tried to hold her gaze, tried to smile but that only seemed to make her worse because when you smiled her lips remained set, a thin line, her cheeks somehow hollowed, her expression stark. Quiet and uncanny.

You wanted to look away but you couldn't. It felt like watching two cars collide in slow motion. It felt like watching a man with a gun held to his head.

"Fen," Tommy coughed, "this is y/n," he said fixing his sister with a cold stare of his own. One which might have scared her once.

"Oh," she blinked, her expression changed in a heartbeat, her smile wide, her eyes shimmering as she clasped your hands in hers, "it's so good to finally meet you! You know Tommy didn't do you any justice at all, you're much prettier than he described..." it would have left you smiling had Isaiah not narrowed his eyes, it would have been a welcome warmth had Tommy not sighed and wrapped his arm around you as though to protect you from a chill.

"Don't worry angel, the twins are only visiting, they aren't staying long..."

"Oh," you said softly, saddened because Sylvie had so far, said the kindest words you'd heard all evening and the thought that the only sweet Shelby might be leaving in a couple of days filled you with disappointment. "That's a shame."

Tommy didn't correct you, only gave your hand a squeeze. He was beginning to wonder if all of this was a mistake.

"The twins are very defensive," he said, "they lost their mother when they were very.."

"Not spilling all our secrets I hope Tommy..."

Her voice was cold and sweet, like frost on the windows on the first winter morning. Her complexion was just as cold. She'd come out of nowhere but now she stood before you both like a waif. Her eyes cloudy and daydreamy, hauntingly distant as she gazed up at you and not at her brother.

You recognised the young man who caught her hand and tugged her back a step, his eyes looking between the two of you with what was becoming a familiar concern.

"Y/N's family now Fen, don't keep secrets in this family do we..."

"Only fools tell the truth in this family," she said her voice drifting in as though from far away. It was hard to imagine her as anything but the ghost of the dying swan you knew she was famed for playing.

"They hate me don't they?" You whispered to Tommy later. The two of you were slow dancing, your guests dancing just as slow and swaying as you. They surrounded you, moving in time with the music and yet their bodies were not enough to shield you from that clawing, unforgiving gaze.

The twins were watching you from across the room. Their eyes dark, gloomy and frosted over. They were holding hands, perfectly still. Their dresses wilting from their ghostly bodies. Their eyes followed you around the room, shimmering, haunted, threatening you quietly.

You couldn't understand how those two boys could stand so close. How they could hold their hands without catching a chill.

Yes, there was something haunted about the twins. Something which haunted you for the rest of the evening and for many evenings to come.

˚｡⋆♡ ༘˚🌛🦢🌜˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The haunting began that night. Tommy had taken you to bed the way a good husband should. He'd helped you undress, delicate fingers undoing all the little ribbons and ties which had held you together all evening. He'd dropped to his knees as he'd slipped the fabric of your silk dress down your waist, bunched it up in his fists at your hips and then dragged it down over your thighs letting it fall in a crumpled heap at your feet.

He'd kissed you a thousand times, every inch of you touched, caressed and sighed upon, made love to you and made you feel loved. And then he'd held you, he'd fallen asleep holding you in his arms, his hand resting on your back as you used his body as your bed. Your hair splayed across his chest.

But where he had fallen asleep quickly, where he'd found home comfort and rest you had found yourself restless. Worried, taunted by memories of the evening. All of those suspicious glances, all of those feigned welcomes. The short smiles. The cold eyes. The stiff way his family had spoken to you.

John who had drifted around like a ghost. Ada who had distanced herself from you. Who hadn't let Karl near you even when he'd asked to dance with the "pretty lady in the red dress."

The twins who had gazed at you the way one might gaze at a doomed creature about to stumble in the dark of an unforgiving wood.

You had thought you might have finally been about to sleep, your eyes were heavy, the room was dark but for the pale glow of an orange harvest moon.

And that's when you heard it. The whispering.

You couldn't make out the words but you were certain that that's what they were. That someone was talking to you, a voice just behind you. Coming from the walls.

"Holy Mother of God,"

"Pray for us."

"Holy Virgin of virgins,"

"Pray for us."

"St. Michael"

"Pray for us."

"At Gabriel..."

You recognised the names of the saints listed one by one, the whispers overlapping and weaving in and out of one another so that you couldn't be sure how many voices there were. How many ghosts were watching over you then.

You reached for Tommy, tried to whisper his name but something silenced you, fear caught in your throat.

You tried to strain your eyes through the dark but there was nothing. You tried to reason with yourself but you couldn't deny what you heard. The litany of the saints being whispered through the walls, soft scratching voices in the dark, dancing all around the bed. All you could do was lie there, listening, gazing up at the ceiling, saying a little prayer of your own. One for silence. For peace.

You awoke the next morning with dry stinging eyes. Your head hurt. You couldn't remember falling asleep, you could only remember lying there, stiff and still, Tommy's warm body beneath yours unable to offer even a shred of comfort to you as your heart raced, thudding in your ears but never loud enough to drown those whispers out...

"You look tired love," Tommy frowned when you pushed yourself up and away from him, his hands caught your lower back and tried to hold you still and close to him. "Come love, settle down, we've nowhere to be, stay with me eh, make the most of this privacy whilst we've still got it..."

But all you could think about were those voices. Those relentless whispers which had taunted you all through the night so you frowned and shook your head and left your husband feeling cold.

˚｡⋆♡ ༘˚🌛🦢🌜˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Three nights later you lay awake. Listening.

"All holy angels and archangels,"

"Pray for us,"

You lay on your back starring up at the ceiling through the dark, eyes burning and dry, stinging with exhaustion. Your husband sleeping peacefully beneath you, blissful and unaware of your torment. Of this nightly trial you were forcing yourself to endure alone.

"All holy orders of blessed spirits,"

"Pray for us."

Shimmering ethereal voices, ghostly, fae like. They wouldn't leave you alone. Always whispering to you through the walls.

It was an old house and you weren't stupid. You'd checked the wall for cavities, done your best to examine the bedroom in the daylight searching for any tricks which could be being played on you. But you'd found nothing.

"St. John the Baptist,"

"Pray for us,"

"St. Joseph,"

"Pray for us,"

You'd taken a Bible from the library and you'd scoured it for the words you could remember from each long uneasy night but your research was fruitless and every night since moving into Arrow House you'd found yourself haunted, lying awake unable to tune out of the sound of your racing heart and those frantic weaving whispers which tangled around your bed like a cloud of cursed mist.

"All holy patriarchs and prophets,"

"Pray for us..."

The morning after the second night at Arrow House you'd been lingering around the archives in the library, fingers skimming over the spines of books which documented the history of the local area.

"Taking a history lesson love?" Asked Polly who had been resting on a chaise longe not so far away. You'd turned to her, feeling shy, feeling silly. Trying to hold back the question on your lips.

"This house Polly... is it haunted?"

But the woman had only smirked, her eyes full of shadows, all these things she knew that you didn't. Things which perhaps Tommy's previous wife had known. Ghosts which perhaps she hadn't been afraid of.

"Aren't they all?"

You'd felt like a fool, welled up with shame for having asked. Welled up with shame for having been frightened now by Polly too. She'd looked at you and her smirk had remained, hadn't faded,hadn't broken to a reassuring smile.

She'd looked at you as though she'd already made up her mind about you. It took guts to be a Shelby. Guts which perhaps you just didn't have.

You'd stewed and sulked all the day long. Loathing yourself for scaring so easily. Loathing yourself for behaving like a frightened little girl.

Tonight, you had decided would be different.

Tonight you were too tired to go on, so exhausted that you couldn't bare to lie still and tortured any longer. So exhausted that you hardly even noticed your feet slip from the bed to the cool floor, your legs carrying you against your will to the window. It was as though you were possessed. Your ears burnt with the fear you'd carried in your soul all week, your cheeks burnt with it too. You were aware of your pulse rushing through you, could feel its relentless beat in your wrists and your neck. You could hear it in your ears.

"St. Peter,"

"Pray for us,"

"St. Paul,"

"Pray for us."

As you moved quietly across the bedroom floor you felt their voices lick at your bare arms. Cold fingers crawling up your neck. Spider silk touches tangling all around you.

You needed air. You needed to open the bedroom window. You needed to look out at the still night and remind yourself how the dark can play tricks on you. How the human brain can be oh so vulnerable to suggestion.

This could all just be a terrible dream.

"St. Andrew,"

"Pray for us,"

"St James,"

"Pray for us."

Your fingers curled around the window ledge as you struggled to push the panel up over your head. It was stiff, as if it hadn't been opened for years, and when finally it came loose the scrape of wood against wood made your skin bristle. A gado escaping you. You stood frozen, holding your breath. Trying to hear Tommy's soft snores. Trying to reassure yourself that you were still alright, that you were far more brave than you thought.

But when you tried to tune into Tommy's soft snores all you could hear was the whispering...

"St. John,"

"Pray for us,"

"St. Thomas,"

"Pray for us,"

And that's when you saw her. White glow beneath the moon, dress shimmering, moving gently with the midnight breeze.

A waif of a girl strung up on a wooden cross in the middle of the lawn. Her head hanging limp, her fingers thin and lifeless. A ghost scintillating casting a shadow on the lawn.

The sound of your scream seemed to come to you from far away, from somewhere outside of yourself as you let go of the windowsill and stumbled backwards knocking into the bed, your hands clasped over your mouth.

You hit your head on the bed post, a pain shooting through your lower back as you tumbled and someone's arms wrapped around you. A voice trying to hush you... a voice you could hardly hear above that relentless whispering.

"St. Matthias,"

"Pray for us "

"St. Barnabas,"

"Pray for us."

˚｡⋆♡ ༘˚🌛🦢🌜˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"St. Luke,"

"Pray for us,"

"St. Mark,"

"Pray for us."

When you awoke you could hear them still. Your head ached and a sharp pain shot through you when you tried to use yourself up but you were determined not to appear weak and you could sense eyes on you.

They were holding hands. The twins sitting just across from you, gazing down at you where you lay on your back, head resting against the pillows.

"Oh," smiled Sonya, or was it Sylvie, today you couldn't tell, their eyes were glazed and cloudy grey identical. The cold way they watched you didn't match their smiles.

"You're awake, one of us should tell Tommy,"

"He's been worrying about you,"

You couldn't help but wonder why then they didn't move. Why Tommy wasn't there. Why both girls were just sitting there, holding hands, gazing at you as if you were a rabbit caught in a trap.

You did your best to hold their gaze but there was something so detached about them, their cloudy eyes, their sweet smiles, the way they moved in perfect harmony. It disturbed you, left you struggling to hide the tremble of your fingers as their wispy brown hair caught int he draft and moved delicately on a breeze. Reminded you of the girl you'd see on the lawn last night.

Finally Sonya stood. She dropped her sisters hand and drifted out of the room. You could hear her talking to someone in the hallway and hoped it was Tommy. You didn't want to be left alone with Sylvie for too long. Not when you were sure she'd not blinked since you had opened your eyes. Not when she was watching you now the way a spider stalks its pray. When she spoke you couldn't hide your start.

"We were praying for you, could you hear us?"

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After the incident in the bedroom things settled, not quite comfortably quiet but just enough that for a day or two you began to relax.

Tommy had hardly left your side because you'd bruised your back on the bedpost quite badly when you'd fallen and the doctor had instructed you to get a lot of rest. You'd hit your head badly too and so Tommy had gotten himself all wound up and worried about you. The doctor had said a lot of rest but Tommy had overruled and so for several days you were confined to your bed. Head propped up on pillows, the maids in attendance constantly checking that the new Mrs Shelby was comfortable. That you had enough to drink, to eat, that you weren't going to take another turn.

Tommy spent as much of his day with you as he could. He was sorry you'd had such an unfortunate welcome into the family. That your first week at the house had taken such a sour turn. But what concerned him most of all is that so far you'd not said a word to him about what had given you such a fright in the first place. He knew you, you were a smart, brave girl. You might have been younger than his last wife, you might have had less worldly experience but you certainly weren't frail, naive or stupid. And yet something had happened, something had scared you enough that you'd screamed and fallen with such a shock as to hit your head, as to spend a day unconscious but for strange, frantic mumbling as you slept. He'd asked you several times what it was that had given you such a fright, determined to understand what had really happened, but you were so conscious of sounding like a silly little girl that you daren't tell him what you'd seen. You didn't want him to think you were the kind of immature girl who believed in ghosts.

So you'd kept quiet and you'd tried to reason with yourself. Tried to convince yourself that you hadn't really seen anything at all. That you'd simply been tired, that you'd simply been tired to the point of exhaustion. Your mind had been playing tricks on you. You'd let your imagination get the better of you. Perhaps Polly was right, perhaps every house is haunted, but you'd never seen a ghost before and it would be silly to imagine you had suddenly developed The Sight now.

Aside from Tommy the rest of the family didn't pay you many visits. Ada was busy with Karl but Tommy always told you she'd asked after you at breakfast. Polly, he said, didn't come to this wing of the house anymore. You'd tried not to dwell on the shadow in his eyes when he'd said that. The men were all busy of course. But to your surprise and guilted dismay, the twins came to see you several times. Usually when Tommy was busy with work. They offered to sit with you so that you wouldn't be alone.

"You never know, she might tell us what happened..."

"Girls talk to one another don't they Tom."

It was on your sixth morning in Arrow House that you decided to ask them a question which had been niggling at you for a little while. You feared their answer but not as much as you feared their silence. The way they watched you wordlessly, the way they sat there silently, holding hands, starring at you. No, it was better to try and engage the strange girls in conversation that it was to endure their skin crawling silence. So you asked.

"Tommy said something the other day..." you started, "about your aunt Pol,"

"You look scared," said Sylvie.

"Does Pol scare you?" smirked Sonya. They were laughing at you, they weren't giggling out loud but you could see the amusement in their eyes. You'd heard twins often shared telepathy, you wondered if they were laughing together. If they were talking about you now.

"Tommy said she doesn't come to this wing of the house anymore..." you said, "he made it sound like there was... I don't know? Some kind of reason for that? Did she used to?"

"Oh," they breathed, their voices sighing in harmony, sending a shiver down your spine. Cold fingers on the back of your neck.

"She used to live in this wing..." started Sonya, her fingers laced with Sylvia's, locking and unlocking slowly.

"These used to be her quarters actually but then..." Sylvie trailed off, her voice blending with Sonya's, the two of them talking to you so seamlessly that their voices seemed to weave in and out and mist in the air around you. The effect was dizzying and you blinked back at them, spellbound.

"She... well, its a family matter really..."

"She's a private woman, likes to keep her secrets..."

"Tommy says we don't have secrets in this family..." You said quietly, your eyes flickering between them trying to keep track of which voice belonged to which girl.

"Only fools tell the truth in this family," they said together, their eyes going dead, their lips set in a thin line. Their fingers locked together.

"Something happened to Polly a few years ago..."

"A brush with death..."

"She hasn't been the same since... she..."

"Started hearing things... started saying she could speak with..."

"The dead... dark stuff you know, she stopped eating, stopped sleeping..."

"Said they were driving her mad because they never stopped,"

"From dusk till dawn always the same... all these poor souls..."

"Always praying..."

"What?" you tried to hide the way you shook but you voice wavered, your eyes a little wide. For a second you felt your heart beating in your throat. Had to struggle to swallow it down. "Did... did she ever see anything?" you asked but before you could finish the sentence they were smirking. Their eyes glistening with another laugh. You felt stupid before they were giggling. You felt worse the longer their laughter dragged out.

"Its shit y/n," Sylvie cracked a grin, her laugh sharp as she started giggling, her sister dissolving into giggles beside her.

"Total shit, Polly just wanted the newer wing, its prettier, warmer in the winter..."

"Like we said, only fools tell the truth in this family..."

But there'd been something about their story you couldn't ignore. Something in the way their voices had woven in and out of one another. How they knew the story so well that they'd been able to tell it side by side, finishing each others sentences. Lies are never told so seamlessly.

They left you then, told you you really ought to get some sleep.

"You look like shit y/n,"

"You look worse than Sonny on opening night!"

And you did, get a little that is.

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You must have drifted off sometime before lunch because the first time you awoke you found a tray with toast and eggs gone cold. The silverware had steamed and condensed and when you lifted the lid little droplets of water dampened the stale dish, left dew drops on the china plate. You felt a tinge of sadness then knowing that Tommy hadn't bothered to visit you at lunch the way he usually did. Knowing that even the servants must have decided to turn on you since they'd not even bothered to wake you. Just left the tray to go cold.

You fell back against your pillows and sighed. Your eyes returning to the window where the sun shone through the misty afternoon and flocked the curtains with little rainbows. It was when you closed your eyes that you heard it begin again.

At first you weren't sure. You'd never heard those desperate murmurs in the daylight, only ever in the loneliest hours of the night. But when you opened your eyes and let them flicker around the room, as your ears strained to hear the words, you grew certain. It was that nightmarish congregation again. Praying. Just as Polly had heard.

"All holy martyrs,"

"Pray for us."

You felt a wave of desperation, of hopelessness wash over you then. Realising that though you'd hoped your torment could be explained away with exhaustion and anxiety, you were realising that perhaps this haunting was in fact real.

That these voices were the reason Polly didn't venture to this side of the house. That perhaps all houses were haunted, just as she'd said.

"St. Sylvester,"

"Pray for us."

You closed your eyes, held your hands over your ears trying to block out the voices but you couldn't. You knew the litany by heart yourself, and no matter how hard you tried the whispering penetrated into your mind and weaved its menacing enchantment through you.

You were nervous now, yes, trembling. Your eyes squeezed shut.

"St. Gregory,"

"Pray for us."

When you realised your lips were mumbling along you clenched your jaw, bit down until you could taste blood.

"St. Ambrose,"

"Pray for us."

You couldn't tell if you were asleep or awake, head swirling with a heavy cloud, a fearful cloud. The litany weaving and lacing through from dream to reality.

When you opened your eyes it was daylight. The sun through the mist, rainbows refracted on the curtains.

Two girls holding hands at the foot of your bed. their heads hanging limp. They're white nightgowns moving just as ghostly as their whispy blonde hair, caught gentle sway on the draught from the open window.

"St. Dominic,"

"Pray for us."

"St. Francis,"

"Pray for us."

You watched them in horror, paralysed with fear where you lay. You wanted to scream but there was something in your throat, your breath caught there, a lump your voice couldn't push past. So you watched in silence, willing yourself to faint. Willing them to disappear.

"All holy priests and levites,"

"Pray for us."

You couldn't see their faces, couldn't see their lips moving but you knew it was them. You knew it was their prayer which had been haunting you now for days.

"All holy monks and hermits,"

"Pray for us."

Could they be praying for their sister? The girl in the garden strung up on the cross?

Your eyes grew heavy, your body dragged down into the mattress by some inhuman weight. As sleep dragged you returning to, or perhaps just leaving your dream you felt a doomed shadow grip you. A melancholy, a hysteria you couldn't hold onto.

The next time you awoke it was evening. The sun was a wash of milky orange on the curtains which had been drawn over the window. Someone had left it open and when the drapes billowed, moving like candle flame in the breeze, you shivered to remember what you weren't sure you'd really seen.

Those two girls at the foot of your bed. Ghostly. It was the only way to describe them. Spectre like with their shadowy translucence. Their haunted prayer which drifted back to you know. The Litany going on and on and on. A hushed whisper guiding you from your restless sleep to the real world. A hushed whisper luring you now too, even now when you were sitting up, certain that you were awake. Certain that this moment now was real, not a dream.

"Be merciful,"

"Spare us, 0 Lord."

A hushed whisper guiding your eyes from your trembling fingers to the foot of the bed where instead of two girls standing over you rested a heart shaped box.

"Be merciful,"

You frowned, curious, your gaze resting on the pretty pink box. It looked like a box of chocolates. A gift perhaps left by Tommy?

"Graciously hear us, 0 Lord."

You reached for it, leaning forward, a twist of discomfort in your stomach as you picked it up, felt the weight of it in your hands. You shook it but it didn't rattle.

A gift from Tommy, you weren't so sure, nervous to hope. Nervous to hold onto the glimmer of hope it could be a comfort from him.

You fingers took the note tag and spun it round. As you closed your eyes you couldn't help but join in with those whispered prayers...

"Be merciful,"