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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years ago

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Stopping You [Part 10] - Michael Gray

Words: 8.9k+

Summary: Y/N’s recovery from both her feelings and her wound takes a step back after a specific night.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of wounds, a lot of blood, death and night terrors. Emotional cheating. Self-hate (discrediting their own sadness and feelings; hateful inner voice).

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

It has been a total of 24 hours.

Yesterday was a bad day. Both mentally and physically.

Polly tried her best into bringing your mood up, which worked in some way. She eased your mind by telling you that what you were feeling is completely normal, but as soon as you were alone, it was like the whole world was crashing on you.

Over crying so much as hateful questions filled your mind, you were sore at the end of the night. You contracted your muscles so much while sobbing that you could feel your wound pulsate against your skin in pain.

You questioned almost everything about your life before and after Michael left and when he reappeared. Things have changed, not just around his family, but also around you. And that seems to be one of the most confusing matters.

You never cared too much about this, but you can’t help but think about how so many things have changed since Michael came back. From your behaviors to how you function. Everything has changed in some way.

You’ve always suffered with night terrors in your life, ever since your parents left, but they were almost never about Michael. The exception being when the whole Italian/New York mafia situation went down, and Michael got injured. But other than that, it was always you, or anybody else close, that would die.

Never Michael.

You want to know what could’ve possibly awaken those thoughts and that part of your brain that makes you think like that. Could it be because you now connect him to something bad in your life? Or that when he came back, he had-

No, you’re not going there. It’s useless. It will cost you nothing pain, and it won’t grant you any answers. Might as well push that away and live your life.

Or at least try.

You bring your hot mug back to your lips and take another sip of your tea, letting your eyes fall to the ground.

Polly believes you could talk to him. Tell him about how you’ve been feeling lately. But, honestly, for what? To say that you’re falling right back in love with him just to later be thrown in the face that he does not love or feel anything for you anymore.

He. Is. Getting. Married.

It would just be simply ridiculous to do such a thing.

He doesn’t feel anything for you and that’s okay. All he feels is pity and maybe he got a little scared over you being shot, but that’s it. There are no feelings attached, no romance. No nothing. Just simply… a connection through pain, which awoke lost and forbidden memories.

Maybe this could just be your pride talking over your heart but, you just can’t believe that you’re letting yourself fall so easily. After so long of crying over him and overworking yourself to become a Peaky Blinder and just- not worry about anything in your demolished love life. All of it going to the trash because… You caught feelings for him again?

It’s disappointing to say the least.

Today, you awoke as soon as the sun made its way into the living room and since then, you haven’t done much. You walked back to your room after getting yourself a warm drink and sat by the window staring at the green grass of the neighbors’ house like it’s the most entertaining thing in the world.

A book is resting beside you. You have read a few good pages, but you can’t bring yourself to read more than 20 at a time.

Your mind is too heavy.

Voices coming from downstairs make you look away from the window and up to your door. You try your best to identify them as soon as you find them familiar.

You can hear voices and the laugher of Lizzie and Arthur. Which is awfully strange.

You scowl at the sound, and the soft patter of quick feet running around the house squeezes your heart. The kids are here too.

You rise from your seat and walk across your bedroom to the door. You open it softly and the sound of everyone’s voices is now louder. Confusion is the most prominent emotion you can feel right now, but you can’t help but welcome it better than any other one you’ve been feeling lately.

While walking down the main stairs silently, a soft gasp is heard over the loud voices. Ruby’s.

You smile at her as she spots you walking down the stairs and she quickly let’s go of her mother’s hand to run towards you.

As you’re distracted swallowing down the jab of pain at your middle while leaning down to grab her, Polly’s eyes meet you. The smile in your face is almost like a warm hug in the winter. She could get used to this sight forever.

“Look who came back from war,” Ada jokes as she spots you.

She walks towards you and her arms wrap around you as soon as you’re close enough. You lean towards her, even with Ruby on your hip, and she squeezes you in closer.

“I was so worried,” She tells you, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

You pull away from the hug with a small smile and she gives you a wide one in return. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her. She had left back for London not long before the whole event happened. You honestly didn’t expect to see her this soon.

As Ada moves back, everyone’s attention goes over to you. Everyone, or at least, almost everyone pulls you into a hug, sharing their words of how grateful they are from knowing that you’re still breathing.

You know they had visited you back at the hospital when you were still asleep, but nothing compares to actually seeing you move like nothing had happened. Arthur’s words, not yours.

Talking about Arthur. He was awfully apologetic while you two hugged it out. You believe he must have blamed himself for what happened, but you were quick to take that idea off his head.

You’re not about to see anybody else beating themselves for something out of their reach. Unless that’s you, of course.

Tommy and Arthur, not even 20 minutes into stepping in Polly’s home, excuse themselves and leave off to work.

The crowd in the living room doesn’t consist in much more people. Both Ada and Lizzie, and of course the kids, stayed behind and took a seat on the couch. The kids surrounded you as soon as you all sat down, while the women in front of you were distracted on talking about whatever, or rather, whoever worth of gossiping.

You listen to some of their words while being continuously pulled into conversation by Charlie as you let Ruby sit next to you, leaning to your side.

Karl is sitting closer to his mother, but looking at you and joining the conversations, nonetheless.

“What about you, Y/N?” Ada asks as she sips her tea.

“What about me?” You ask confused, obviously having no clue on what she’s on about.

“We were talking about weddings,” Lizzie explains, “Sharing our opinions on what is the best wedding. And Ada asked if you have anyone in your mind as your future husband?”

Her tone is playful more than anything. Both Lizzie and Ada expect a disgusted scowl or a roll of your eyes as an answer, but Polly can’t help but tense up against her seat at the question.

As innocent as this conversation was, it was more than powerful to push you back into your inner darkness.

“Not that I know of.” You answer, trying to mimic Lizzie’s tone.

“Oh, come on. You don’t find any man attractive?” Ada asks, putting her cup down beside her, “Not even one?”

You shake your head slowly and she stares at you with half closed eyes, almost as if she has a suspicion of some sort about your feelings towards any male presences.

“There has to be someone,” Lizzie agrees with Ada, “It’s been… what? 3 years?”

You shrug, fighting your urge to correct her since it won’t do you any justice, and the two women share a look as Polly watches all the action unfold.

“What about Finn?”

Oh god, you almost gagged right here.

Ada laughs under her breath at your disgusted yet shocked look and shakes her thoughts of that couple even be slightly real, away.

“God.” Polly scoffs out loud, making every woman rip a slight smile.

“What’s so wrong about my baby brother?” Polly asks, hands over her hips, playful grin on her face.

“Nothing is wrong,” Polly explains, “They would just be the most chaotic couple to existence. Can you imagine?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“They would burn down the church right at their wedding,” Polly jokes making both Lizzie and Ada laugh, “Probably even when saying their vows.”

There’re a few seconds of silence as the women let their giggles die down.

“Where is Finn?” Lizzie asks curious.

“Oh, Tommy has been making the boy work double the shifts now, for some reason.” Polly answers, “I don’t understand why, but they changed a lot of his shifts since their last meeting.”

“There was a meeting?” You ask confused.

Polly looks over at you.

“Yes, there was. It was only between Tommy and some of the men.” She answers with a short nod, “Nothing too important was talked about, I’m sure.”

You nod at her a little bit unsure and Charlie is quick to grab your attention back to him. He pulls you by your sleeve to look at him and he starts showing you his new toy horse, again.

You feel like you’ve seen that horse a thousand times, now.

Another conversation restarts between the women and you lean back on the couch, letting Ruby continue to play with your gold necklaces as Charlie talks his heart out about the horse that his dad gave him.

Your mind is constantly somewhere else. But this time, it focused on work. Mainly, on what the meeting could’ve possibly been about. As if any meeting with just the men was ‘not important’. They always have the most interesting meetings.

And with that train of thought, hours go by.

You were so distracted by listening to the women beside you laugh and talk, or just with looking down at the kids, that you didn’t even notice the time pass.

Your mind is still on that damned meeting, but you don’t let it get the best of you. You’re sure that the information will eventually reach you. In one way or another.

Three knocks are heard from the front door, and only Polly stands to open it. Nobody thinks too much of it. Everyone knew that eventually someone would come and pick up Ada, Lizzie and the kids.

It’s soon to be dark out, they must be almost leaving now.

“I’m sorry that we’re late.” A familiar voice sounds from the door.

Ada freezes and at the same time she looks up at you, you look up at the door. Not even 5 seconds later, Michael enters the house, followed by, of course, Gina. His blue eyes travel to the couch in the living room, and as he finds you, you’re already looking down at Charlie.

Your hand rests against Charlies’ head, smoothing his soft hair between your fingers, detangling it softly.

He forces his gaze to go back to the blonde behind him and his mother closes the front door behind them.

“Go sit. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go make more tea.” Polly says, voice strong, not as soft as it was previously.

Ada’s and Lizzie’s eyes stay on both Michael and Gina as the couple stands in silence. They don’t find the women’s gaze as nothing more than their way to look at guests before exchanging some welcoming words, so, the tense air and shock just came unnoticed.

“Oh, hi Michael” Ada says, standing on her feet. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

She gives her cousin a quick hug, in which he hugs back, but her eyes quickly fall on the blonde.

“And who are you?” Ada asks softly.

“Michael’s fiancée, Gina” She says with her American accent, extending her hand towards the other family member she hasn’t heard of before.

Ada shakes her hand, feeling slightly confused and shocked with her words, but, just like anyone else in this room, she’s quick to hide her emotions.

“Please, sit. I don’t want you standing all night.” Polly says to the new guests, from the kitchen door.

Michael is the first one to move towards the couches. You don’t dare to look up at him and he notices, fighting his own urge to start a conversation.

Your heart quickens the closer he gets to you and Charlie looks up at him, probably recognizing his face somewhere.

“Charlie, honey, scoot over a little.” Lizzie tells the boy.

The boy in front of you nods in response and takes his eyes off Michael. He stands on the couch and carefully steps over your lap and sits on your other side, by the arm of the couch.

Michael takes his seat next to you and you hold in your breath as your arms rest completely against one another. Lizzie moves a bit to the side and Gina sits beside her fiancée, who has his attention somewhere else.

“How are you?” Michael whispers down at you and you still don’t look up.

“Good.”

Your tone is cold and distant, which he finds extremely strange and awfully uncomfortable.

The couch is surely not large enough for 4 people, but you and Michael are having it worse than anyone else seated down on it. Lizzie and Gina have at least a few inches between themselves, while you and Michael are almost completely leaning against one another, trapped between Gina and Charlie.

Michael’s hands rest over his lap as he hears the awfully awkward conversation between the women start, not finding it at all surprising that you are paying them no absolute attention.

Ruby lets go of your necklaces for the first time and looks down at your hands.

They’re slightly sweaty over the presence of the man beside you but she pays them no mind, grabbing onto them as she eyes the expensive jewelry, surely something she loves a lot about you.

Polly comes back not too long after, and she’s quick to serve everyone another cup of tea.

You refuse any more, since you feel like you’ve already drank too much and explode your own bladder if you keep on going. And as your hand lifts to dismiss the tea from Polly, Ruby catches it.

You smile a bit at her and Michael grins slightly at the sight of the small girl being so interested in your hand. You let her twist the rings on your fingers and her gaze moves up at Michael.

His grin seems awfully contagious to her since she ends up smiling shyly at him as she continues to hold your hand up. As they do their staring contest, you look over at Charlie, who entertains himself and his mind with his new, and very loved, horse.

You sigh softly as your heart continues to beat quickly against your rib cage and you can’t tell if it’s just because you’re anxious about Michael or is it just his presence that is making you react like this.

“Have you taken your pain meds?” Polly asks.

You look up quickly as you notice that the question must be for you and a shiver runs past you as everyone’s eyes fall on you, even Gina’s.

“I will when I go to sleep.”

She gives you a disapproving look and you give her a grin in return.

“It helps me sleep.” You justify, and she sits back in her chair.

Michael grins at the exchange of words and your stubbornness and Ada notices it before continuing with her conversation.

Ruby rests your palm against hers and starts comparing both sizes.

You chuckle at her and as your body jumps at the laugh beside Michael, he looks down at Ruby to see what made you react. The small girl looks up when sensing his eyes on her and as Gina joins the conversation between the other women, Ruby extends her other hand at Michael, holding it upright.

He looks at her confused and you notice.

“She wants to compare your hand to hers.” You explain in a low whisper.

He takes his hand from his lap and extends it to her. His hands are surely bigger than yours, and that seemed to shock the small girl.

You smile as she lays her hand over his with widen eyes and Polly looks up from her tea at you, mind still on the conversation she started.

Her heart swells up at the sight. You and Michael smiling down at the girl sitting on your lap as she holds your hands up and compares them to hers. She can’t hear what you say over the loud voices and from being across the room, but she sees you saying something to Ruby, making her nod.

Michael’s smile widens at the small girl and you look up at him quickly, stealing a look before you get caught, which you don’t, not by him at least. Polly surely did, but she doesn’t say or do anything.

It’s so obvious that you still feel something for him, at least for her. But Michael seems to be unreadable, sometimes. It’s hard to figure anything out.

Gina stares at Polly while grinning at what Ada says and finds her staring at her son, she follows her gaze and clenches her jaw. The urge to roll her eyes feels stronger than her, but her bottled up rage triples at sight of you smiling.

Ruby takes her hands off yours quickly, shyly putting them close to her chest. You continue to smile down at her and as you and Michael try to retreat your own hands, she holds on to them.

Her actions are innocent, purely curious on the size of your hands, but she still leans both of your palms together, still holding them upright.

You and Michael don’t give that much of a reaction as Ruby tries to align them perfectly at the base of your palms and see the size difference from the top of your fingers.

An idea pops in your mind as your hand rests against Michael’s, and as Ruby pulls back to check the difference after so much adjusting, you slide your palm against Michael’s, so your fingers align right at the same height.

Michael chuckles at the confused look on Ruby’s face and she smiles at the contagious sound.

But as soon as the small girl notices what you’ve done, she sends you a glare, making the two of you laugh at her.

Your conjoined laughs catch everyone’s attention for a quick second and Gina doesn’t even care to take a second look. Ada smiles as she sees Ruby readjusting your palms, and, this time, it’s Michael who moves his hand, almost making his fingers only lay over half of your palm.

Ruby glares at him too and you two laugh, again.

“Alright, we’ll stop.” You tell her.

Ruby retries, but this time she has a tactic. As she makes sure that you are aligned perfectly, she holds both your and Michael’s thumb and force them to rest against the other’s back of the hand.

She leans back and stares at the difference between your hands, now happy with her achievement.

You two let her stare at the size difference with her big wide eyes, but something interrupts the sweet moment.

“Michael, honey.” Gina calls out as the conversation between everyone restarts, “Can you pass me that cup?”

Michael takes his hand off yours and you can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of his touch. He leans forward on the couch and grabs the cup of tea for Gina from the center table, something she could easily get it herself.

You let your hand fall back to your lap and you take a sharp deep inhale, not wanting to be sitting on this couch for any longer.

You let some minutes pass, so you don’t seem like a total bitch, and when feeling ready, you lean forward on the couch, wincing in pain as your body shows to have grown sore over the lack of painkillers and from not moving at all for the past few hours.

Polly’s eyes go over to you at the sound only her seemed to notice, and you look back at her.

“I’m going to bed, I think.” You explain, making everybody get silent and look at you, “I feel exhausted.”

“Need help to find your meds?” She asks, already starting to get up, and you shake your head.

“No, no.” You hold your hand up stopping her, “Stay here. I’ll find them.”

You make sure to sit Ruby on the couch comfortably before forcing yourself up from the low couch. You fight off any sound of pain as you stand on your feet, but your face made it quite obvious.

You really should’ve taken those meds earlier.

You walk to the kitchen, trying not to show any other expression of pain, and everyone’s eyes are on you. Gina stares as you lean against the doorframe to regain your strength, yet she doesn’t feel anything in return. Not even an ounce of pity.

You stumble into the kitchen and look at the main counter, expecting the meds to be sitting right in the middle, just like you left them. But this wouldn’t be Polly’s house if they were.

Your feet get dragged as you take your time walking around to the kitchen.

You start opening every cabinet and drawer that could possibly have your meds, but there are too many to find them right away. Maybe going to bed without your meds wouldn’t be that bad.

You just need to lay down, now.

“Need help?”

You turn on your heels to find Michael by the doorway, already in the kitchen. You look away quickly back to all the drawers and try to hide any type of emotion towards his sudden appearance.

“No, I think I got it.” You answer back.

You continue to look through the many drawers and only after 2 minutes of seeing you struggle; Michael decides to move. He walks towards you and you stand still as he does so.

As he passes between you and the counter behind you, he holds onto your shoulders to make you stand back a little and let him pass. Something that surely made your skin react, but, thankfully, it all came unnoticed to him.

He opens a drawer slightly away from you and pulls out exactly what you’re looking for.

“How did you know?” You ask, curious.

“This is where she would put my meds after I got shot. It’s her drawer from stronger meds.” He explains.

How the hell did you not know that?

You walk towards him as he opens the small paper bag, taking your medicine out and handing it over to you. You take it from his hands carefully and put it down on the counter beside you.

“Thank you” You whisper at him.

You take your medicine in silence as the conversation restarts in the living room, and you try not to cringe at anything that you’re taking. Why is everything so bitter?

Whenever you’re done with one of the meds, Michael grabs them slowly and puts them back on the bag without saying anything.

He slides the drawers closed when done and you start taking the jewelry off your hands, just to start and get your way to the bed way quicker.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks and you look up at him.

“No. But I’ll be.” You say sincerely before looking away and taking a step away from him, “That’s what matters.”

Michael notices your hesitation into continuing some sort of conversation, just like your slight cold tone, but he tries his best to ignore it.

“I’m going to bed,” You announce while turning your back to him and making your way out of kitchen.

“Good night.” He says as you reach the doorway.

You send him a tight-lipped smile and walk out, back into the living room. Polly is, of course, the first one to notice you.

“Did you find it?” She asks.

“Michael did.” You answer.

You walk over to her and once close, lean over and kiss her cheek. The rest of the family distracted with something else or some other type of conversation.

Michael walks out of the kitchen and you reach the stairs, after saying a quick good night, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

You jump up the steps with your rings in your hands as you bring your cold and clammy hands to your neck to try and unclasp your necklaces. Your eyes land on Michael’s as you reach the top floor and he’s staring back.

Gina calls his name in a whisper and he looks at her, breaking your eye contact. And as soon as his eyes reach Gina’s, he doesn’t hesitate into giving her a sweet smile.

As he looks back up while walking around the couch, his eyes meet nothing but some painting on the wall.

You’re not there anymore.

(…)

The sound of birds surrounds you, their soft and energized tweeting coming from the trees far away from you and some branches above you, as the warm summer wind hits your body like a warm hug.

You shift your position on the ground, laying on your stomach and looking up at the sky between the branches high up, far, far away from you.

Solitary clouds float over the bright blue sky, almost not shielding any land from the sunlight.

Your exposed back is warm, erupting into chills whenever Michael moves his hand. You close your eyes again and let yourself relax again.

A hand touches the side of your head softly and slowly you feel its fingers start to trace your hairline. You open your eyes, blinking the sunlight away, and look up at Michael.

His hand falls to your cheek as you move and a small smile spreads over his lips.

“Let me sleep,” You whine, and he finally gives you a full smile.

“Alright,” He answers in a whisper, “Sorry.”

You sigh and hold yourself up with your hands, you push your body up on his torso and his hands go to your waist. Not caring over only wearing a dress, you lay yours legs over his hips, straddling his lap while pulling yourself up.

“I forgive you.” You whisper back playfully.

You snuggle into the crook of his neck and his smell hits you like an embrace. The small bit of communication pulled you away from your sleepy thoughts and movements, but you still felt just as clingy and slow.

As you lay back against him, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him with everything in him. You snuggle in to welcome his tight hold and one of his hands stretches over your skin of your back.

You’re wearing a simple black dress, baggy from your waist down, but completely backless.

“Can we lay here for, like…” You pause, “Forever?”

Michael chuckles from under you and leans his head to the side to rest it against yours.

“We’ll get hungry eventually.” He answers, and you smile.

“I’m sure there’s some animals around here.” You continue to play around, smile prominent in your voice.

“I hope you know how to make a fire, then.”

You giggle into Michael’s neck and pull away slightly. His hold loosens slightly so you can move a bit and you look down at him.

“Don’t you know how to make a fire?” You ask and he frowns.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know” You shrug, “Weren’t you like a country boy or something?”

With that, Michael lets out the biggest belly laugh ever, leaving you to smile as he cackles away at your words. Your tone had been obviously playful, but it still made it just as funny for him.

“I lived at a farm. I wasn’t a cave man!” He exclaims, tilting his head to look at you better.

“Sounds the same to me.”

He smiles at you and you bring one of your hands to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. You lean in and give him the softest peck you could. When pulling away, you look at him in the eyes as he tries to pull you into another kiss. You let him, letting your lips rest over the softness of his as you too fall into the pit of slow and lovingly making out.

He sits up in the middle of the kiss and you sit over his legs as he does it. His hands travel effortlessly down your waist to your legs, lifting your skirt enough to slither in his hands underneath.

You pull away and look down at him as you stand on your knees, adjusting your seating on his thighs. You peck his lips multiple times before sitting back and eyeing him.

“I love you” He confesses in a whisper, eyes staring back onto yours, “so much”

“Really?” You ask, serious, leaning a little back and he frowns.

“Yeah…?”

He’s confused, but soon your playful smile reappears.

“How much, again?”

“A lot.”

“How much is ‘a lot’?” You keep going. “Like, ‘a lot’ like the size of a mountain or ‘a lot’ as in…” You think for a second, but he interrupts.

“How old are you again?” He teases about your childish words and you force your smile to disappear, just so you can scowl at him.

“Oh, fuck off” You say to him, “I was trying to be cute here, no need to ruin the moment for us.”

“Alright, keep going then” He says, “The size of a mountain or…?”

“Uhm… The size of…” You try to think, mind completely blank over any ideas. “The size of… the ocean?”

He chuckles at your final words and you grin.

“The ocean.” He says, sure of his words, no hesitation.

You stay silent for a bit.

“Which one?”

“Oh, come on!” He says, completely bored out of this conversation, making you laugh at him, “The biggest one you can think of”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, can you please” He emphasizes the word comically, dragging it, “for the love of God, just tell me that you love me back?”

You kiss his lips over his frown.

“You’re so romantic.” You comment sarcastically.

“I know.”

You smile at him and decide not to give in just yet. The boy can suffer for a bit.

Telling him that you loved him now or in 5 minutes won’t exactly make that much of a difference.

You stand up on your feet, away from his lap, and he stares up at you while letting out a sigh.

“You gotta earn it.” You say with a playful look, making his frown break slightly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” You nod.

You take a step back as he stands up and your smile doesn’t disappear at all as you move away from him. Every step forward from Michael is a step back for you, making his urge to get to you bigger.

And soon, the running around starts.

You laugh as you run from him, sometimes feeling his fingers graze over your arms, making your heart beat faster with the adrenaline.

The tall weeds slap the skin of your exposed legs softly, tickling you as you ran away from your boyfriend. The scenery in front of you motivates into keeping on running, the summery flowers all open and colorfully staring up at the sky.

All you hear is your soft steps over the plants and the birds, it gives you peace. You can still hear Michael running behind you.

You let out a giggle as he’s about to touch you and out of nowhere, it stops.

The warm breeze lifts into a cold one and you look around confused.

You know that the weather can be unpredictable, but this is too radical for it to make sense.

Your hands start getting cold rapidly and soon your body is enveloped into complete body chills, your dress being nothing but useless when it comes to make you stay warm.

The breeze goes from cold to freezing in the matter of seconds, leaving you nothing but panicked.

You feel lightheaded and short of breath and as you try to warm yourself up with your own arms, soon you realize… You can’t feel your own palms touching your skin.

The sunlight fades as clouds fly their way in to color the skies a dark grey and you stare up.

You’re in a dream.

You’re dreaming.

You look over your shoulder at Michael to find him just as confused just a few steps away. He must have stopped running right as you did. But his skin, is not reacting like yours. His exposed arms, from the folded sleeves are not reacting to the cold in chills. It’s like it’s not affecting him.

He’s not the real Michael.

“What’s happening?” He asks you.

“I don’t know” You lie. You know exactly what’s happening.

Your dream is becoming a nightmare.

You look around as the wind gets harsher and your heart starts to beat more violently, just like your shortness of breath forces you into panting your way to find your peace again.

You step closer to Michael and cup his face.

He stares back at you still with his confused eyes and you kiss him. Your lips touch his and his hands come to rest over your waist as the wind continues to come at full force towards you.

Your hands feel numb, not being able to feel the texture of his suit, just like you had felt a few minutes prior. But you feel his hands, the way they rest on your waist, warming your skin under the violent and freezing wind.

“I love you,” You tell him as you pull away.

You open your eyes and you’re met with Michael’s pale face. His eyes are empty, with absolutely no light or sign of life.

You caress his cold cheeks with your thumbs, and you notice blood over his bottom lip. His hands had fallen a second ago from your waist, and you already miss his familiar warmth.

You bring your finger to wipe the blood away carefully and notice that it’s all over his mouth, coloring his white bottom teeth.

A small trail of blood starts falling off his nose and soon from his ears as well, slowly coloring your hands into the color red.

Red, hands completely filled with deep red, now that you try and wipe it.

Michael falls onto his knees and you do the same, holding him close to you even though it’s just his corpse. He’s cold and his hold is not even there anymore. His arms are by his sides as his head rests over your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around him, and the wind becomes more and more violent.

You force your eyes closed and let it take you too.

You open your eyes, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth. You’re not panting anymore, but your heart is beating quickly.

You try to sit up, but a sudden jab of pain hits you. You gasp and wince in pain but still bring yourself to do it. A sob escapes your mouth too right as you’re able to sit upright.

Your face feels wet and cold in the air of the room. You must have been crying before you woke up.

You whine in pain as you bring yourself to turn on the light beside you and as the warm yellow light illuminates the room, all you see is blood.

Your own blood, spread around your white shirt and white sheets, painting your hands just like in your dream.

“Pol-” You try to call out, but your voice breaks in a sob as pain runs through you.

You sob into the empty and silent air and try it again.

“Polly!” You sob out loud, hoping that that was enough to awake her if it’s late enough for that.

You wait a few long seconds for any sound coming from the hallway or stairs, but nothing.

“Polly!” You try to scream louder.

Polly holds her hand up to shut up Gina and the room falls silent. Michael leans forward from the railing of the stairs and looks at his mom confused; arms still crossed over his chest.

“Poll-” You cough.

Michael, before Polly could even get up, makes his way up the stairs and runs down the hall, trying his best to be fast enough to get to your room.

Your door swings open and you continue to sob as the lights are turned on.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” You sob to whoever is at the door, staring down at your hands, “I-I, I woke up and…”

Michael shakes his shock away at the sight of your bed all bloodied, just like your hands, and walks towards you. His eyes fall to your shirt and notices from where your blood is coming from, your wound.

“Mom!” Michael shouts while looking up at the door.

Your ears start to buzz as panic starts to set in in your system and two hands move yours away from your eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” The voice repeats and you sob helplessly.

Michael sits in front of you in the bed and brings you close to him, ignoring that he’s now being covered in blood as well.

He makes you rest your hands on his shoulders so that they’re away from your eyes and starts to unbutton some of the buttons of your shirt.

Polly finally gets to the door and the sight is absolutely terrifying.

“She ripped stitches. I think.”

Polly forces herself to walk to the bed and to help Michael check your wound. He continues to unbutton your shirt with one hand only and he’s quick to rip the bandage off.

You sob in pain as he does it and both him and Polly try to look past the blood and ignore your sobs to see what happened to your wound. It opened, maybe 3 of the 9 stitches ripped.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Polly says.

Michael nods and holds you closer to him, not wanting you to move too far away. Your side rests against his chest and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, while one of his hands grabs the sheets and holds them over the wound.

You sob silently while leaning closer to him and he looks up at your face.

“Hey. You’re okay, look at me.” He whispers at you and you do it, “You’re okay. It’s not too bad. You’re safe. I promise.”

You stare at him in the eyes and he leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re okay” He whispers lower.

You nod as tears continue to roll down your face and he nods with you. Your breathing starts to slow down, and he presses a kiss over your wet cheek.

“I got you.” He whispers against your skin.

(…)

Michael sighs loudly as he walks into the kitchen and he feels exhausted.

“Is the doctor finished?” Polly asks him and he just nods, “And her?”

“Passed out before he could even start” He answers, “The doctor said to just let her sleep.”

He walks towards the sink and he turns on the water, holding his bloody hands under it. The two women standing in the kitchen are silent, watching him wash his hands carelessly while staring at the wall.

“I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” Polly says.

His mom walks out of the kitchen and he turns off the water, turning around to face Gina.

“Are we going to the hotel after this?” She asks softly.

“I can drive you there, but I’m staying here, tonight.”

She takes a deep breath and brings her hands to her head, annoyed.

“Why? She’s asleep. You can visit her tomorrow.” She tries.

“I’ll sleep better here.”

She scoffs.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable?” Michael answers, bringing his hand up to point at his own chest.

“Yes!” She almost screams, “You are unbelievable! And you want to know why?” She asks, “Because no matter what I fucking do or fucking say, you will always put her before me.”

“Always, Gina? Are you serious?” Michael asks in disbelief, “You’ve been my fucking priority ever since we met, and now because I show some sort of affection towards a girl that is fucking bleeding and crying her lungs out, I’m supposedly putting her before you?”

“Yes! I don’t even know what you had with her before me!” She shouts, “Ever since I step foot into this shit hole I’ve been listening to her name and seeing her over and over again. Do you really think I believe that she’s simply a ‘family friend’?” She air-quotes.

“You want the truth?” He asks, no shouting needed, but he sounds mad.

“Yes.”

“We dated for 4 years, almost 5. I ended our relationship when in America.” He answers and Gina stands silent, “See? I can tell you the truth when you ask nicely.”

“And if you broke up why do you still like her?” She asks, ignoring his hateful tease at the end of his sentence.

“You have to be joking-”

“Are you going to say that that’s a lie?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, “Let me give you some of my truth, Michael. I honestly don’t give a shit about what you two went through, or if you were in a good relationship or not when with her, but you broke up. I don’t care why, but you did. And there was a time when you chose me over her. That’s why you proposed, right?”

Michael doesn’t answer her.

“So, please, for the love of God, stop being a child and move on with your life. You’ve been mopping around her, touching her all the time as if you’re dying to do it at every second of the day… Even if she does still like you, you are with me now, not her.” She spits at him, “Move. On. She’s not yours anymore, Michael. I am.”

He swallows hard at her words and looks at her emptily.

Polly makes her way back inside the kitchen, acting as if she didn’t hear a thing, but that seems to not scare off Gina from continuing.

“Are you even listening to m-?”

“I am.”

“Then say something, Michael.” She scolds, “Is it not true, what I’m saying?”

Polly looks between them as if waiting for it to evolve in any way, and simply extends her hand towards Michael, so he can grab the clean shirt.

“Is she your priority or no-”

“Yes.” Michael answers, “Y/N is my priority.” He nods, sure of himself and his words. “Yes, I’m engaged to you, Gina, but I care for her, and she will always be my priority.”

Gina bites her tongue and looks at Michael.

It honestly comes to no surprise. She had just thrown these words at him not that long ago, at lunch. He had just never confirmed it for her, and now… he did. But ‘always’? You will always be his priority? Now, that, doesn’t sit right with her.

They stand in silence and Michael leans back on the counter, finally taking the shirt from his mom’s hands. He thanks her with a look but to no avail because her eyes are not even on him.

“You’re serious?” Gina comments in slight disbelief.

“I am.” Michael confirms.

“What does that mean for us, then?” She asks.

Michael stays silent and the blonde slides off the highchair she has been sitting on, standing on her heels. Her eyes stay on him as tears threaten to swell up at her eyes.

“I’m not sure.” Michael answers truthfully.

She nods at his words and brings her eyes to the ground. She feels disappointed but mostly betrayed. Her eyes are good to show that emotion, but soon, it evolves into something else. Pure anger. Anger over the betraying words and truth, the one that just got thrown around as if it was nothing.

And Polly notices it.

“I think it’s better if you leave, Gina.”

Michael takes his eyes off his fiancée to stare at his mother, who just opened her mouth. He didn’t expect her to get herself involved in his worries, but she did.

“What?” Gina asks, bringing her head back up to stare at Polly.

“You heard me.”

Her eyes travel to Michael in hopes that he would defend her, but nothing. He’s just staring back at her, almost holding the same look as his mother.

He doesn’t want her here. He wants her to leave.

She shakes her head, overcome with emotion, and forces her feet to move. Her palms tingle with the idea of hitting something, or rather, someone, but her eyes fill with tears.

How could have she been so stupid?

She slams the front door shut behind her and the Gray family stand in the kitchen unphased.

“Rather dramatic that one, uh?” Polly asks her son.

Michael doesn’t answer her venomous comment, but that didn’t seem to surprise her. His mother walks around the counter and grabs the cup Gina used for her whiskey, bringing it to the sink so she can wash it.

It’s like this conversation didn’t affect her a slight bit.

Michael feels weird. He doesn’t regret telling Gina anything but the look she gave him spoke more than any of her words could. She felt betrayed by him, and she was holding back so many emotions and words.

He knows that if it wasn’t for his mom, Gina would be screaming at him, maybe even throwing stuff at the walls. Just like she usually does when she’s upset. But she didn’t do anything, she decided to contain herself and not scream or even curse him out.

And honestly, Michael doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that she could be destroying his mom’s kitchen or the fact that she’s bottling up all her frustration and anger.

He thought he knew Gina before coming back home, but the trip only made him and her show their true colors. One can’t stop comparing his newfound love to his old one, and the other obsesses over the idea of power and desperately wanting to overthrow anyone in her way.

Quite a pair, that’s for sure.

(…)

You open your eyes as the lights burns your eyelids open and an involuntary groan runs off your mouth as you’re hit with the morning light right in the face. You turn your head to the side, but you’re met with another window with the curtains open.

“Fuck.” You curse out loud.

You sit up and another sound escapes your mouth, but this time, a whimper of pain.

It takes you a few seconds to connect the dots and you finally remember why you’re in pain in the first place.

“Jesus Christ.” You comment to yourself, again.

Your bloody sheets are set to the side, right next to your door, and before your mind could even try to process it, you push any thoughts of your nightmare away from you.

You pull yourself up carefully and try to ignore the tightness that you feel over your wound. You’re not quite sure what happened after the doctor appeared, but if you’re still at Polly’s house, it could only mean one thing…

It’s not as bad as it looked.

You walk to the bathroom and the sight that meets your eyes is, just, great.

Your shirt is mostly unbuttoned, bloodied, just like your bra. Some of your skin has been cleaned, but not all. Your face as some blood smeared on it, but it doesn’t surprise you. You remember moving so much when you woke up, it would be a miracle it your feet would be clean.

You throw the clothes into the bin and start cleaning yourself off. You can’t exactly bath over having to make the wound be dry at all times. But you have been able to manage quite nicely. With weird positions, for sure, but you’re able to wash your body and hair quite nicely.

You put on some washed clothes on and make your way out of the bedroom. It must be really early since the house is more than silent.

Before you walk down the stairs, you walk over to the guest’s room just to check. Finn is laying on his back over the large bed, mouth partly open as some light snores escape his lips, making you smile at him.

You take a step back and close the door back up. He must’ve gotten here after the doctor.

You make your way down the stairs easily, and as soon as your eyes land on the couch, you see Michael.

He’s awake with a mug on his hands, eyes on the carpet as he is completely lost in thought. He has a scowl over his face, hiding any kind of emotion from anyone’s eyes, and as your feet finally meet the last step, he looks up.

His scowl disappears and a slight grin appears over his lips.

“Good morning.” You say before he could.

“Good morning.” He answers back.

You walk towards him and he watches you as you carry yourself with ease over to the couch. You take a seat next to him and notice that his mug is still filled with warm coffee.

He extends the mug your way when noticing your interest and you smile, taking it.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

The hot mug burns your cold palms, and you welcome the almost uncomfortable heat into your skin. You bring it to your lips and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You’re sitting close to Michael, sitting on top of one of your legs as you sit looking at him. You’re not wearing much more than a shirt, exposing your legs to him and to anyone in the house, but you don’t seem uncomfortable with your lack of clothing.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks and you bring the mug down from your mouth, licking your lips at the same time.

“Yeah” You nod.

You give him back his mug after taking your generous sips and he takes it back onto his hands.

“When did Finn get here?” You ask him, curious.

“About half an hour after the doctor left.” He answers, leaning forward to put down the burning mug on the coffee table, finding it impossible to drink from how hot it is, still.

You nod at as his answer and while you’re thinking about what else to ask, he speaks again.

“You scared the living shit out of us last night.” He says, making you look back at him.

His eyes are back on the carpet and your chest tightens at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t.” He says, finally looking back up, “It’s not your fault.”

He leans back on the couch and both of you continue to look at each other. The air is not thick as it usually is, it’s light and easy to breathe in. Your looks are both familiar, always taking your minds back in time for a quick second.

Your mind takes you to your dream and soon his pale face reappears in your mind. You shake the thoughts away, right as Michael opens his mouth to talk.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, “I can make you something to eat.”

You smile widely at him and bring your hands to your lap.

“Are you finally proving yourself useful around the house?” You tease, making him smile back, “I must be in a dream. Since when do you-”

“I’ve always been able to cook” He defends himself.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!”

“Michael, you couldn’t even cook potatoes!”

“Couldn’t!” He says to you, leaning forward to be right in front of you, “Things have changed in my kitchen.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he smiles down at you and he stands from the couch. He gives you his hand and as soon as your palms touch, he pulls you up from the couch.

“Come on, I’ll show you my experienced cooking.” He encourages as you take small, demotivated steps his way, “Do you want me to make you potatoes, just so I can prove my point?”

“No.” You giggle, “Just- Do whatever.”

He turns around and starts walking to the kitchen, letting your hand fall from his as you stay a little behind.

“You know what?” You ask him as you get in the kitchen, making him look back at you, “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were”

Michael laughs at your words as you say them, and he nods.

“Oh, why, thank you!” He says enthusiastically, “Aren’t you lovely right as the sun rises?”

You let out a loud laugh and he moves over behind the island counter, looking around the cabinets to look for something to cook for you.

You stare at the back of his head as he walks around and take a seat on one of the chairs.

One could get used to this.

Taglist: @ohhersheybars @woodland-mist @onlythechicagoway @soleil-dor @finn-shelbys-bulldog @oh-theres-a-woman @peakyxtommy @ms-reader @beautycinders @lovemissyhoneybee @graceedwards @jadesbabylon @marvelismylifffe @a-dorky-book-keeper @peakascum @shanetoo @hufflemendes @cherrytop02 @http-cherries @burnitup @livingforbarnes @iccyyyybitch @ravennaofasgar @carezzesuigraffi @fernweh-fangirl @hufflepeople @huskyhunny @desertgremlin @fireawayxx @lemur46 @sugarcoated-lame @i-sneeze-to-appease @gabytodd @cococola-cocaine @namelesslosers

If you’d like to be apart of the taglist, let me know.

Hope you enjoyed this! If would like to make any questions about the characters or when the next part will be available. My ask box is always open.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray imagines #michael gray fic #michael gray fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #finn cole #finn cole x reader #finn cole imagine #finn cole imagines

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ashdumpsterpile · 3 years ago

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Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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pandoras-princess · 4 years ago

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Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 Welcome to my first ever Peaky Blinders fic, I wrote it ages ago and have just edited it slightly so my apologies if the quality isn’t greaaat but the other parts will be better I promise! 😅 This is an AU fanfic where John never married Martha or had kids before he married Esme and there is no Grace for Tommy andddd the timeline is absolutely wack, I know it’s a lot so if you’re in the market for a traditional by the book Peaky Blinders fic this one is not for you I’m afraid 🤗 also if you’re finding it a bit slow I advise you to hang in there until after the time skip because that’s the better half of this part in my opinion, nevertheless I seriously enjoyed writing this so Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is forever welcome 😌

Summary: Being the bestfriend of Jonathan Shelby meant that you’d grown up attached at the hip. And considering you were hopelessly in love with him, life was eventful to say the least. With John marrying Esme you decide it’s high time you got over him. And as they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...

Pairing: (OOC) Thomas Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, smoking and drinking, mentions of addiction, mentions of sex but no smut I’m afraid

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

Being John Shelby's best friend was definitely not an easy job.

You and John were the exact same age, born on the same day of the same month of the same year, precisely one hour and eleven minutes apart, and since your family only lived one house away from the Shelby's it was a given that you and John would grow up to be best friends.

You were as good as family to them, so when your father was killed in the war and your mother unable to cope turned to the drink and drugs, you were left officially orphaned at age 10 and Polly arranged for you to live with them, raising you as her own.

Growing up with the Shelby's came with it's challenges. They were all fiercely protective of you but no one more so than John. When you were kids he'd beat up anyone that dare made you cry, or sad or angry or anything other than happy really, and as you grew older and began to date he'd scare away anyone deemed not up to scratch, which seemed to be pretty much all of them, threatening violence known around Small Heath as common behaviour for the Peaky Blinders. This meant that you never really had a boyfriend, or many boys interested in you at all for that matter, and any who were rarely had the balls to act on it for fear of the Peaky Blinders wrath. However this didn't bother you much as there was only ever one boy you truly wanted interested in you, the one boy who never would be interested in you.

Of course being a teenage girl you'd had your silly crushes, Tommy being one of them. But they all paled in comparison to what you felt for John.

Being best friends meant that the two of you spent practically all of your time together, did everything together, went through and dealt with everything together. He had always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend, your hugs and smiles and laughs, your safe place. It was inevitable that you'd fall for him. And fall for him you did, painfully obvious to everyone except John himself.

Shortly after your 16th birthday, you were reading a book by the fire, a woven blanket strewn across your legs and a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming your hands when John bursts into the house loud, drunk and jolly. He often snuck out to join his brothers in their shenanigans - whether it be business or pleasure - and you were all too happy to listen to his stories when he came home.

You watched John intently as he regaled to you his latest night out. You watched the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly as he spoke, a smug smile tracing his lips every so often. His eyes glistened from the whiskey and his lips were wet. A cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers, his eyes closed for a split second whenever he took a drag. Deep in admiration of the boy sitting in front of you, you didn't quite notice the change of events in the story.

"-and then she walked right up to me and kissed me!"

It was at that point that your attention snapped back, ears pricking up and heart racing as you go over what he'd just said. But too excited to wait, John didn't give you the chance to work out if you had misheard him.

"Well before I know it she's got me in the back alley dress hiked up going at me like a feral she was. Can ya believe it after all this time I'm finally a man aha!" John exclaims, a goofy, ear-splitting grin plastered on his face.

He spares any explicit details, knowing it was no way to talk with a lady no matter how close they are to you or how drunk you may happen to be. Nevertheless, upon hearing those final words coupled with the look of pure elation on his face, your heart shatters into millions of ice cold shards right before your eyes. The pain that was rapidly building in your chest and the image of John with some tart, skirt bunched around her waist fucking like dogs in the alley was too much for you to bear. A wave of nausea washes over you and you stand abruptly, dashing to the loo before the contents of your stomach emptied onto the carpet.

A few minutes later you hear faint knocks on the door.

“Ye alright in there love?” John asks, concern lacing his words.

“All good” you reply quickly, willing your voice to steady itself.

Wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead you collapse into a heap against the wall, and a sigh escapes your lips as you wrack your brain for the exact moment you had lost him. While John had never shown any signs of liking you, you were always able to draw hope from the relationship you two had, no matter how blind it may have been. Now though, he had dashed that hope, blind or otherwise, as he had given himself to someone else. He had openly chosen not to be with you.

Not to be yours.

Fobbing John off with some excuse about a dodgy dinner you quickly retreat to bed, going without giving him a hug, unable to bring yourself to touch him. And from that day onwards you lived with the knowledge that your love was unrequited. You lived with loving him, and him not loving you.

For the most part it was rather easy. John wasn't the kind for serious relationships - preferring causal sex to the committed kind - so you never really had to deal with any girlfriends or the lark, just the occasional tart interested in him on the rare nights out you tagged along. Even then, you soon learned not to go on any nights out without Ava or Polly present and so the issue of John and his women quickly became dormant. That was, however, until John agreed to marry Esme Lee.

Tommy came to you before asking John, asking for your help in convincing him. He knew John would come to you with it asking for advice before deciding. Tommy explained his plan, marry John off to the Lee girl forcing them to squash the war and join forces to overthrow Billy Kimber. It was simple enough and since you'd already accepted there was never to be a you and John, you agreed.

The time came and sure enough John came to you, confused and somewhat annoyed at Tommy's rough handed approach, and sure enough you stayed true to your word, telling him it was nothing new, people had arranged marriages all the time.

So on he went to marry her, your true feelings unknown to the man.

[2 years later]

"You shouldn't be working here you know. John certainly wouldn't like it" Tommy said, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully wipe down the bar surface. He was referring to your new job as barmaid in the Garrison and having just finished your first shift you were cleaning up. Last orders had been and gone and every punter had now left the pub, drunk and merry on their ways.

After John married Esme you spent the next two years much to yourself. You embraced the spinster lifestyle and faded away into the passing days. However it was the turn of a new year and to everyone's joy you'd come to your senses, deciding it was high time you stopped wasting your life moping after John. He didn't love you - that much was clear - but somebody out there must and so it was time for you to move on, you thought. Reinvent yourself. This 'new you' started with marching into Tommy's office and demanding the new barmaid job. Surprisingly he offered no resistance, merely a quizzical look at your sudden determination before giving you the job. So here you were, your first shift done and nobody left in the place but you and your new boss.

"Well it might surprise you to know, Mr Shelby, but I don't abide my decisions by what John would or would not like me doing" you reply. Finishing up you leave the cloth on the bar and make your way over to the table, taking the chair adjacent to his.

"Is that so?" He asks, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he offers you a cigarette. You accept, bending down slightly to the offered flame and without breaking eye contact, you light the cigarette and take a drag, exhaling as you sit back up.

"Yes, Thomas, that is so" you reply, the use of his name making clear your exasperation with the questioning.

"Very well then, a toast-" he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some into each glass, placing one in front of you and taking one himself "-to your new job, and to your new found freedom" he says, locking eyes with you on his last words and clinking your glass before you both down it. If growing up with the Shelby's had taught you one thing it was how to hold your liquor.

Soon you and Tommy were halfway through the bottle and quite drunk, too caught up in the fun to notice. It was now something past 3 in the morning; you and Tommy had been talking, drinking and laughing for nigh on 3 hours now, going through old stories of your childhoods, stories from before you were born and from afterwards, stories of your parents and stories of his.

"So tell me, what is the meaning behind this sudden change in you then?" Tommy inquired, only too happy to see your old self back again.

Before you knew it the whiskey had gotten the better of you and you found yourself telling him the reason. You told him about John, about your love for him, about that night and about how you'd come to terms with it and decided to move on.

"Besides, it's not like he was the first boy I ever liked, so I'm quite sure he won't be the last" you state matter of factly, unaware of the storm you had just brewed.

See, unbeknown to you, Tommy was fully aware of everything you had just poured out to him. He knew about your love for John. He knew the deepest parts of your heart, your mind, your soul. Every crush and fling you'd ever experienced Tommy knew all about it, thanks to a little book you liked to keep hidden under your mattress. You had been detailing all matters of yourself in that little black journal for as long as you could write. Polly happily replacing it when you found your current one full, it was much easier than finding a shoulder to cry on every time you needed one. When Tommy came across it he had no idea what it was, merely out of curiosity did he open it and start reading.

"Oh, who was?" Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette. Following suit you decide to take a minute to weigh up your options, drinking in the smoke as you did.

"You” your voice remains deceptively steady, not wanting the man watching you so closely, so attentively, to become aware of the raging swarm of butterflies occupying your stomach.

"Is that so?" Tommy pulls on his own cigarette, the smoke rising from his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. "So what changed then?" His eyebrow arches perfectly, a smirk gracing his lips.

"You're 4 years older than me! There was no way you'd ever look at me as anything other than an annoying little sister!” You say in a chuckle, the fiery whiskey encompassing all of your thoughts in a humorous glow.

"And if I told you I do look at you as something other than an annoying little sister?" His eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond before returning to your own (E/C) orbs. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it, but your full attention being fixed on the man before you meant that you hadn’t.

"Well... that would certainly change things." The possibility of one of your fantasy's coming true ignited you to your very core.

Silently, Tom rises from his seat and offers his hand to you. You take it, and he leads you to his office with the worst of intentions in mind.

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ace-trainer-risu · 4 years ago

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what are your fave diana wynne jones books that aren’t howl’s moving castle??

Oh whattt a lovely and fun question which I was definitely not secretly hoping someone would ask!!!! Yay!!

Hm okay so, not specifically in order, probably my top fave Diana Wynne Jones books would be:

Deep Secret! Deep Secret is not just one of my favorite books by DWJ but one of my favorite books full stop! It’s so good. Basically, the premise is that there is an infinite series of interconnected worlds, some of which have magic and some of which don’t, at the center of which is a vast interdimensional magical empire. Magic in the multiverse is overseen by an organization of magicians called Magids and there must always be a specific number of Magids in existence. When Rupert, a young Magid living on Earth, discovers that his mentor has died (ish) he becomes unexpectedly responsible for finding and training the next Magid, which is extremely inconvenient timing for him because the aforementioned magical empire is on the brink of civil war and chaos and its his job to stop it. And also almost all of this takes place at...a science fiction convention. It’s amazing. I have read this book minimum four (probably more) times and every time it’s absolutely delightful and hilarious. I would like to go to the sci fi convention in this novel more than anything. It’s such a good read and its one of her few novels which is specifically aimed at adults, so I would EXTREMELY recommend it. Plus the romance in it is extremely good...not exactly enemy-to-lovers but more like ‘annoys-the-shit-out-of-each-other’ to lovers. (**One note about this one...there’s a few very briefly mentioned side characters who are gender noncomforming and even tho they are actually portrayed very positively, it’s not necessarily ideal and 100% respectful (basically the protags comment on them being very beautiful and nice but also keep trying to guess their “real” gender). Additionally there’s a different briefly mentioned side character who is fat who isn’t portrayed very nicely. Both of these are brief incidents, just wanted to provide a warning for them)

Dark Lord of Derkholm - Okay this one is weirdly hard to summarize but it’s about this magical fantasy world which has been taken overy and is being used as a tourist destination by a non-magical world (heavily implied to be Earth) for people who want to role play at being in a classic high fantasy story, including fighting and killing THE DARK LORD...who is really just a random magician pretending to be evil. The inhabitants of the fantasy world do not enjoy this and are trying desperately to stop the tours, but unfortunately according to a magical oracle, their best hope of stopping the tours is this year’s Dark Lord, a hapless farmer magician named Derk, and his, um, eccentric family consisting of his glamorous wife, seven children (of whom five are griffins and one is a bard) and a simply improbable amount of magical animals. And also there is a very good dragon. I think Derkholm is so great as a novel b/c it’s a very funny, loving but sharp, parody of high fantasy stories...but a lot of the time parodies only function as parodies but not as good stories in their own right, you know? But this novel completely functions as a story too, and in fact the first time I read at maybe age nine or ten, the high fantasy parody went completely over my head...but I still loved it. I also really love that this novel is very accessible to all ages, I think I enjoy reading it as an adult just as much as I did as a kid, which is rare. For anyone who has read Howl’s Moving Castle but nothing else by DWJ and isn’t sure where to start, I think this is a great place to start. (TW: There’s a brief, non-explicit scene which has implied sexual assault.)

Fire and Hemlock - This may be the most controversial one since it features a romance with a significant age gap where the two characters meet when one is a child and the other an adult. And I fully agree that that’s :/ and normally that trope is NOT my thing but it doesn’t come off at all creepy in this story imo, and if you think you can deal with that then this is a very weird, atmospheric, cool book about storytelling and fairy tales and growing up. The short summary (this is another hard to summarize one) is that as a child, Polly encounters and strikes up a friendship and correspondence with a young man, Tom, which mainly consists of the two of them jointly making up a silly, ongoing fairy tale type story...but things get weird when parts of their story start to come true in real life. I’ve only read this one twice but it really stuck with me and in fact just describing it here...really makes me want to read it again!

The Chrestomanci Series - So all of the above are either specifically aimed at adults or a general audience whereas the Chrestomanci series is aimed at children, mainly a middle grade type audience. And tbh I started reading them as a kid (fond memory - I bought an omnibus of the first two with my allowance money...b/c it had a cat on the cover!) so I don’t know what it would be like to first read these as an older teen or an adult. BUT. Honestly they are really good and would be a quick read so I do still recommend them. There’s seven overall, with th seventh being a collection of short stories, and they’re only semi-chronological so the reading order isn’t vital. My recommended order (b/c this the order I read them in, haha) is Charmed Life, The Lives of Christopher Chant, The Magicians of Caprona, Witch Week, The Pinhoe Egg, Conrad’s Fate, and then Mixed Magic you can read whenever you want so long as you read it after Charmed Life and The Magicians of Caprona. So the very core premise of it is not dissimilar to Deep Secret - there’s an infinite series of worlds/universes and there’s a magician, called the Crestomanci in this case, who is responsible for making sure magic isn’t abused across the multiverse. The Chrestomanci is an extremely powerful enchanter who has nine lives, and the novels are various semi-connected stories about the adventures of Chrestomanci as an adult and child. Chrestomanci is a title so it’s not always the same person, but for the majority of the stories it is the same guy and he’s...the best/worst...He’s this extremely handsome, charismatic, powerful enchanter who is very good at his job, loves his wife a lot, wears very beautiful clothes and makes, um, questionable life choices and is very annoying to everyone. I’ve thought about this very hard and I believe that he’s what happens when you take a fundamentally chaotic good person and make him do a fundamentally lawful good job; yes, he’s going to do it and do it well, but he is going to do it in the most chaotic, ridiculous way possible, and he IS going to die at an ALARMING rate, doing things that would not normally kill a person, such as playing cricket and trying to catch stray cats. He also, as previously mentioned, frequently wears very dramatic silk dressing gowns with elaborate embroidery, which the protag of Charmed Life finds deeply alarming. It’s very odd to me how these books don’t seem to be well known, because the Chrestomanci books were some of my absolute favorite books as a child. I still have my omnibus editions of the first four novels and they are very worn and very beloved. And it’s so WILD to me that I don’t think I have ever talked to someone who also read those as a kid! Like I’m not saying those people don’t exist, I’m sure I just haven’t met them, but that’s so weiiirddddd to me. If I bring up Tamora Pierce or Garth Nix or other authors of weird, eccentric children’s fantasy novels to other avid childhood consumers of fantasy, people usually know what I mean, but Chrestomanci and its just..crickets. Is it b/c she’s British? Anyway all of the Chrestomanci books are very degrees of good, but if I had to pick a favorite, I think, controversial choice here, it would be Conrad’s Fate. Particularly in terms of recommendations to others, Conrad’s Fate works as a standalone and, unlike the other books in the series, it’s aimed more at a YA audience, so if you wanted to read a Chrestomanci novel without getting into the whole series, that’s a good way to go. It’s about a boy, Conrad, who is told that he has a terrible, possibly fatal Fate awaiting him unless he goes to work as a servant at a wealthy, and weird, estate neighboring his town, at which place he encounters things including color changing livery, an extremely annoying teenage Chrestomanci, and the greatest liminal space house EVER. It’s like a combination of an upstairs/downstairs Downton Abbey type social drama with bizarre fantasy shenanigans. How could that not be good??

Also as Honorable Mentions - A Sudden and Wild Magic and The Time of the Ghost. A Sudden and Wild Magic is fun b/c it’s one of her few works aimed specifically at adults and it’s (gasp) a little bit NAUGHTY which I was very surprised and delighted by when I read it. (This may seem like an unfair statement considering that Deep Secret fully has an orgy in it, but Rupert is so fundamentally unnaughty of a character that he completely unnaughtifies the whole novel, whereas Sudden and Wild Magic embraces being a (little bit) naughty.) The Time of the Ghost on the other hand is weird and haunting and creepy and atmospheric. I only read it once but it’s one of those novels you just think about periodically and go “wait what the fuck that was a weird novel” (Also known as the “Garth Nix” effect)

#the ask and the answer #i spent...too long writing this out but i love talking about her novels soo muchhhh #that i couldn't help myself!!!!!!!!#diana wynne jones #things you didn't care to know about veronica

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route22ny · 3 years ago

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BY MICHAEL J. MOONEY | PHOTOGRAPHS BY DAVE SHAFER

Staring at the front of the Royal Theater, I feel as though I’m looking backward through time. Taking in the cerulean marquee, the painted red fringe around the box office, the vertical ROYAL sign jutting into the afternoon sky—it’s easy to imagine why the denizens of Archer County flocked here for decades. The theater was a dark, cool respite from the blazing sun, a still escape from the whipping winds of the North Central Plains, a glimpse of entertainment from the outside world.

The theater—or what’s left of it anyway—peers out from the northeast corner of the town square. Without the storied theater, this could be any small town in Texas. Weathered barns and rusted oil pumps dot the landscape. Anchoring the town is the imposing three-story Romanesque Revival county courthouse, with stone archways and provincial peaks. There’s also a small café (Murn’s), a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it police station, a few antiques stores, and a single four-way stoplight swaying in the breeze like an apparition.

The Royal Theater as it is now and as it was then.

This isn’t just any small town in Texas, though. Archer City is the Texas small town. It’s the setting of both the novel and film versions of The Last Picture Show, a coming-of-age story rendered in black and white that earned eight Academy Award nominations, including Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay), Best Directing, and Best Picture. In Larry McMurtry’s book, published in 1966, the town is called Thalia. In the movie, directed by Peter Bogdanovich and released in 1971, it’s called Anarene—a name taken from an abandoned town 8 miles away. But rest assured, both places are Archer City: the looming courthouse, the blinking stoplight, and the Royal Theater, where so many of the most dramatic moments of The Last Picture Show take place.

The novel, which McMurtry called a “spiteful” book intended to “lance some of the poisons of small-town life,” received critical acclaim when it was published. But it was Bogdanovich’s film that truly introduced the entire world, in utterly unromanticized fashion, to the intense, sweeping sagas of everyday life in Archer City. The Last Picture Show turned this particular and peculiar town into art.

Both the novel and movie contain language that was considered lewd at the time. McMurtry’s own mother, Hazel, once said that after reading the first 100 pages she hid the book in the closet and called her son that night. “Larry, honey,” she said to him, he revealed in his 2002 travel memoir Paradise, “is this what we’re sending you to Rice for? Those awful words!”

The film, with its nudity and frank depiction of teenage sexuality—including Cybill Shepherd’s first and only topless scene—absolutely scandalized upright, moral Americans all over the country. Nowhere more so than in Archer City, where it was regarded at the time as a “dirty” movie.

Now, 50 years after the film’s release, the town’s past dalliances with Hollywood are somehow simultaneously scuttled and omnipresent. There’s no billboard at the city limit announcing the place’s cultural significance, no notation on the water tower. But there are echoes of the art formed here, about this place, along every street, around every corner. Some might even feel the spirit of McMurtry, who passed away in Archer City earlier this year.

Over the last five decades, Peter Bogdanovich, a New Yorker who operated in Los Angeles, has told the story of the movie’s origin many times. He’d seen the novel in a store, liked the title, saw what it was about, and immediately put the book back down. Then actor Sal Mineo, who’d starred alongside James Dean and Natalie Wood in Rebel Without a Cause, gave Bogdanovich a copy of the novel, saying he thought it would make a good film. Bogdanovich still didn’t read it, but gave it to his wife, production designer Polly Platt, and asked her to read it. When she inspired him to finally read it himself, he was intrigued by the challenge of conveying small-town life in Texas and eventually co-wrote the screenplay with McMurtry. Bogdanovich, Platt, and McMurtry took a long road trip scouting locations in Texas, but ultimately the director realized he wanted to shoot the movie in McMurtry’s hometown.

Set in the early 1950s, the story follows three teenagers—the co-captains of the football team and the so-called prettiest girl in school—through their senior year of high school, as they each struggle to make sense of adult concepts like love and sex and the fragility of human life. Sonny Crawford is the sensitive, thoughtful boy from a broken home. Duane Jackson is Sonny’s lovelorn best friend who escapes first into the oil fields and then the Korean War. Jacy Farrow is the coquettish rich girl who yearns wholeheartedly for something beyond the confines of her surroundings. The Last Picture Show also famously includes an ensemble of carefully rendered adults trying to cope with their own expired dreams and broken lives.

McMurtry repeated over the years that the characters he created weren’t based on any real-life individuals, but the people of Archer City always suspected otherwise. A man named Bobby Stubbs, who was photographed with McMurtry in their high school yearbook, believed he was the inspiration for Sonny. Stubbs had a troubled home life and worked nights like Sonny, and he drove the same kind of pickup truck. He was also once hit in the eye by the boyfriend of a girl he liked. “It kinda pretty closely followed me,” Stubbs used to say.

A woman named Ceil Cleveland Footlick was often asked if she was the inspiration for Jacy. She was “very good friends” (her words) with Stubbs and had been voted “Most Beautiful Girl” in her class. For years she brushed off the question, but in 1997 she published a memoir with the title Whatever Happened to Jacy Farrow?

Because of the book’s reputation, getting actors to audition was a challenge. Randy Quaid was cast as Lester, an awkward, sleazy suitor of Jacy’s. He’d only read the parts of the script that involved his character, which mostly centered on Lester taking Jacy to a naked swimming party. “I just thought it was going to be like this B-movie, teenage, soft-porn movie,” Quaid would later say. “Something you’d see at the drive-in.”

None of the young stars had much experience in film. Timothy Bottoms, who’d only been in one movie before, was cast to play Sonny. Jeff Bridges, cast as Duane, had been a professional actor nearly all his life, but at 21 years old, this would be his first major film role. And Bogdanovich cast Shepherd as Jacy after seeing her face on the cover of Glamour magazine.

Most of the adults in the movie were played by established Hollywood actors, including Cloris Leachman, Ellen Burstyn, and Eileen Brennan. For the role of Sam the Lion, the wisdom-dispensing owner of the town’s pool hall, Bogdanovich cast Ben Johnson, the champion-rodeo-cowboy-turned-stuntman-turned-Western-movie-icon. At first Johnson turned down the part on account of the foul language, but Bogdanovich called in a favor from his director friend John Ford, who convinced Johnson to do it.

Almost as soon as filming started, real life began imitating the art being created. While making a movie about illicit sex and barely veiled scandal, the set was awash in illicit sex and barely veiled scandal. The actors spent a lot of time drinking and smoking together in their hotel rooms 30 minutes north in Wichita Falls, and that led to drama. Bottoms fell in love with Shepherd. Bogdanovich started an affair with Shepherd, dissolving his own marriage while his wife, Platt, continued to work on the movie. (Most mornings Platt styled Shepherd’s hair.) “It was quite a soap opera,” Burstyn said in the documentary Picture This: The Times of Peter Bogdanovich in Archer City, Texas.

This was everything the locals had feared: all the immoral luridness of Hollywood, right here in a part of Texas not so comfortable with unwholesomeness that didn’t stay behind closed doors.

Outside of Archer City, it was a different story. The movie received great reviews from coast to coast. Johnson won the Oscar for Actor in a Supporting Role and Leachman won for Actress in a Supporting Role. The film is still beloved today and maintains a spot in the coveted National Film Registry.

But at the time of its release, most of the locals disapproved. Strongly. The Los Angeles Times ran a story about it with the headline “Movie Riles Town It Depicts.” McMurtry, who was involved in Bogdanovich’s vision, eventually got so annoyed by the vicious gossip in town that he sent a letter to the editor of the Archer City newspaper, challenging anyone in town to a public debate.

His offer went unrequited.

Archer City’s population is 1,848, only a couple hundred larger than it was when McMurtry grew up there in the ’30s and ’40s. The town is the seat of Archer County, created in 1858 by the Texas State Legislature and named after Branch Tanner Archer, former secretary of war of the Republic of Texas. Ranching and oil have long been the predominant industries—by late 1926, there were more than 400 oil wells within 13 miles of Archer City—but many people are increasingly attracted to the town for its proximity to prime hunting.

Many of the locations where The Last Picture Show was filmed are gone now. Where Sam’s dusty pool hall once stood, with its door flapping in the wind, there’s nothing but an empty dirt lot. The Rig-Wam Drive Inn, the burger joint where Jacy dangled french fries over Duane’s head as if he was a trained seal, is just a plot of asphalt and patchy grass. The West-Tex Theater in the neighboring town of Olney, used for the interior movie theater scenes, was torn down in the mid-’80s. Today it’s a small, quiet park with a gazebo.

Some places are still here, but different. The restaurant where Brennan’s character worked turned into Booked Up No. 4, one of four bookstores McMurtry set up around the town square before shuttering all but one in 2012. The high school has some of the same old features, though it’s been updated and decorated with a handful of granite statues marking state titles the school has won through the years.

Much of the town looks and acts remarkably like it did when The Last Picture Show was made. Boys about the age of Duane and Sonny still speed through town in pickup trucks. Men the age of Sam the Lion still stop them to talk about football. The dance hall at the American Legion, where Jacy and Duane twirled around the room and Sonny ran into his estranged father, looks like it could host the same event today. On a recent evening, four or five locals were perched on barstools, sipping cold beers, listening to songs on the jukebox. They got rid of the old Wurlitzer years ago, but the updated digital version there now still plays all the Hank Williams Sr. songs from the movie.

In time, feelings in Archer City softened a bit. Mostly, the people here don’t talk much about the movie, or about McMurtry, the town’s most famous son. You can spend all morning at Murn’s Café and all night at the American Legion, the only bar in town, and never hear The Last Picture Show mentioned once. It’s not the source of tension it once was.

The public change of heart was most apparent in 1989, nearly 20 years after The Last Picture Show was filmed, when Bogdanovich returned to Archer City to shoot the sequel, Texasville, based on a book of the same name by McMurtry. This time the townspeople lined up to participate as extras. People came from miles away to sell concessions or to take photos or just get a glimpse of the nearly $20 million production.

“The bad taste that the movie left for some folks, that’s gone now,” then-high school principal Nat Lunn told the Austin American-Statesman at the time. “Especially with money being short in town, they’re ready for another dose of Hollywood.”

By the late 1980s, the three leads in the first film—Bottoms, Bridges, and Shepherd—had all become stars. While the entire budget for the first movie was around $1.3 million, Shepherd alone was paid $1.5 million to reprise her role. Bridges was reportedly paid $1.75 million. Bottoms, who’d complained publicly about Bogdanovich and said he didn’t like any of his co-stars, would only agree to return if he was given an additional $100,000 to fund the Picture This documentary.

In the two decades since the first movie, Bogdanovich’s career had soared and crashed. He and Shepherd had broken up; he went on to have multiple relationships, and she had two divorces. Bottoms was also divorced and remarried, but on the set he confessed the crush he’d had on Shepherd. Platt returned, too, and brought the 21-year-old daughter she and Bogdanovich shared. It became a grand, twisted Hollywood reunion, right there on the streets of Archer City.

Drawn by the potential spectacle of what was by then some sort of love-octagon, media outlets from across the country sent reporters to town. There were long feature stories in both Entertainment Weekly and the Los Angeles Times. By all accounts, though, the entire production served as a therapeutic experience, healing the wounds of the past. At one press conference, the often-sullen Bottoms hugged Bogdanovich. Behind-the-scenes footage caught Shepherd hugging Bottoms. Residents of Archer County took photos of themselves on the set.

But when the movie was released, it tanked. It received middling reviews, earned back only a fraction of its budget, and even today it’s not easy to find on any of the major streaming services.

A lot of people associated with The Last Picture Show are dead now. Stubbs, who claimed to be the basis for Sonny, died in 1992. Johnson in 1996. Sam Bottoms, the real-life younger brother of Timothy Bottoms who played the mute boy Billy, died in 2008. Platt, the producer and production designer who somehow never pulled Shepherd’s hair, died in 2011. Then Brennan in 2013.

In January of this year, Footlick, the woman who wrote about being the real Jacy Farrow, died in North Carolina. Leachman died almost two weeks later. And on March 25, McMurtry, the writer who created all this beautiful trouble, died at the age of 84.

A few days after his death, nobody answered the doorbell at his house in Archer City, a majestic, three-story mansion just down the road from the high school. Looking through the front window, everything seemed to me to be just the way he left it, from the table made from a giant dinosaur fossil to the towering shelves of books in every room. McMurtry bought this place, the biggest home in town, after he won the Pulitzer Prize for Lonesome Dove. He’d wake up early in the morning, type for an hour and a half or so at his long oak table, then go to the bookstore to price antiquarian volumes. Most of the locals would leave him alone.

On the house’s front porch, a single rocking chair was situated to look out over the front yard into the surrounding neighborhood. Someone sitting there could see the comings and goings of a lot of people. As the early-evening wind moved through, the chair began to rock ever so gently.

These days, I sense the people of Archer City think differently of The Last Picture Show. It’s a part of the town’s story, just like the cattle industry and state titles. The movie is even mentioned on the town’s website, though it’s certainly not prominent.

There’s also a tiny park just off the square with a fiberglass horse covered in brands from local ranches and a display that chronicles a bit of the town’s history. The welded metal wall has separate panels for the town’s founding, the first successful oil well drilled here, and the giant fire that swept through in 1925. There’s also a panel explaining how the town was the filming location for The Last Picture Show and Texasville. Bogdanovich’s last name is misspelled.

A couple hundred feet away is the Royal Theater. Most of the building is a burned-out hull, popular for weddings, photo shoots, and occasional performances. The front of the building has been restored, though. It looks just like it did in the movie, the image that begins and ends the film. It’s haunting and beautiful, weathered and damaged—but still here, still standing, still looking at that single blinking light swaying in the wind.

***

The Last Picture Show wasn’t the first movie based on a novel by Larry McMurtry, and it certainly wasn’t the last. You might besurprised by just how many films and TV shows have been made from his novels. Here are a few:

Hud, 1963 (based on Horseman, Pass By) The Last Picture Show, 1971 Lovin’ Molly, 1974 (based on Leaving Cheyenne) Terms of Endearment, 1983 Lonesome Dove, 1989 Texasville, 1990 The Evening Star, 1996

https://texashighways.com/culture/how-the-last-picture-show-changed-the-worlds-view-of-small-town-texas/

#archer city texas #larry mcmurtry #peter bogdanovich #the last picture show

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

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I Didn't Love Your Father - Tommy Shelby X reader

I have been putting off writing for Peaky Blinders for a long time now, just silently reading and enjoying the works by all you precious writers. But somehow I decided that I should go ahead and try to come up with a solution the Writer's block in my mind.

It might not be that good but I've tried writing something and ugh, do let me know if it's shitty as fuck. I might even consider doing a part two to this one maybe later.

Tommy is kind of an arse in this one. He leaves the girl who he had a history with and who loved him through thick and thin for Grace and when she is finally happy again, engaged to another man, Tommy realizes he loves her and wants her back.

Warning : Angst with a not so happy ending?

Gif - Not mine.

You felt like you had devoted your life to him – sticking with him in thick and thin, you had watched him grow from a young boy to a dark, vicious man, a man that could throw you under a running bus if it meant he got what he wanted. That is what Thomas Shelby had become now, and no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, he wasn't the man you had fallen in love with, before the war happened.

You still remembered the day Tommy and his brothers were supposed to board the train, the train that was to take them to their fate. You still remembered how you had waved him off, a boy, a boy you loved with all your heart – but he had returned, not as the boy you always knew him to be , but a man. He still looked the same, his blue oceanic irises looking down at you, but they lacked the warmth you saw in them before he had left. You often wondered about the horrors that he might have witnessed at the Somme but you never had the heart, or the courage to ask him about it. Not that he would have answered.

At first, you had thought that time would heal all the wounds – that one day, Tommy would wake up and maybe have a change of a heart, that he would just look at you and realize how you still were in love with him, even after all these years. You hoped he would realize how you had been waiting for him to come back to you, but he didn't.

Instead, he found her.

It was a low blow to you, when you found out about the barmaid that had Tommy's heart. Polly, even Ada, tried to comfort you, telling you that Grace had put a spell on Tommy, that he was not in his right senses, but you knew, Tommy wasn't in love with you anymore. Why blame a woman when a man couldn't control his desires for her?

So you had done what best you could do – try to move on. It had not been easy at first, but somehow you had managed to keep at bay the storm that wreaked havoc in your heart. You found yourself a man, twice as man as Tommy would ever be, who loved you for you and cherished you, so much so that he went down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

You accepted. You deserved a man like him, not Tommy Shelby, who your heart still pinned for.

It wasn't until that nail-biting winter morning when Tommy suddenly had a change of a heart. You had decided to head home early that afternoon. Locking up the bakery early, you stuffed the keys into your purse and walked down the five minute path that led to your rented apartment in Small Heath, Birmingham.

As soon as you stepped into the familiar confines of the place you called home, your eyes fell on the not so good looking interior. The paint was chipped off at the edges and the mirror on your vanity had a massive crack. Taking your coat off and hanging it on the coat hanger, you locked the door and put the tea kettle on the stove on a light flame for the water to get boiled. Your fingers toyed aimlessly with the ring that adorned your ring finger, a tiny smile breaking out against your lips.

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door – more like pounding against your door in an urgent way. Your frown widened when you waited for a few seconds but the knocking, instead of dying down, started sounding even more frantic than before. Without wasting any more time, and a fear inside of you that your flimsy wooden door will splinter into two if the merciless pounding against it continued for two more minutes, your feet literally ran towards the door, pulling it open.

"Tommy?" A gush of air flew out of your lips, when the sight of the gaunt, blue eyed man caught your eye, his hair disheveled and messy, almost falling over his eyes. His eyes looked glossy, hazy and he reeked of whiskey. That's when you knew he was intoxicated. He lazily brought up his fingers to his lips, a lit cigarette plucked between his fingers as he look a long, lingering drag of it, the smoke bellowing out of his plump lips.

He waited a few seconds, wondering if you would invite him inside but it was as though someone had turned off the wiring to your brain. You kept standing there, looking at him blankly, unable to move or utter any word. That's when he took the cue, shoving past you and went into your apartment, leaving you still standing at the door, reeling from a sudden shock of seeing him at your door when you least expected it.

You swirled around, when the sudden realisation hit you. There he was, the man you loved, sat on your bed with a cigarette in his hand, pretending as though nothing had ever happened.

"Tommy, what's the bloody meaning of this?" Your arms flew around your frame, as though you were suddenly cold but the man in front of you didn't react. He just sat there, his body stiff, his shoulders almost drooping as he plucked the cigarette and shoved the butt into your ashtray, finally getting up from the edge of your bed.

You could only watch in a harrowed way as he speed walked towards you, his pocket watch dangling from the crook of his coat until he was standing inches from you, his eyes fixed on the ring on your index finger.

"Call it off."

"Excuse me?" You realized you were glaring at him now, your eyes reaching his lips as he looked down at you.

"You heard me. Call off the fucking engagement, to whoever it is. You think I don't see what you're doing ? You are fuckin' trying to get back at me aren't you?" You knew it was the alcohol talking. Because Tommy, the man he had now become, never spoke more than three or four words to you now.

Maybe in a parallel world, you would have been happy – happy that maybe he finally felt the same way about you and your engagement to another man had caused him to have a change of heart – but you had known Tommy Shelby all your life now and you knew what Tommy was feeling right now wasn't love. And even if it was, it was too late. You see the thing with Tommy was, he often wanted things that didn't belong to him. You were the best example of this – when he had you, he didn't want you. But now you were someone else's, Tommy couldn't bear it.

"Why? Did Grace leave? Is that why you are back?" You snapped at him, not failing to notice the sudden look of anger cross his eyes, only to take form of a distilled, simmering rage. You didn't know what you had just said as a come back was actually true, Grace had indeed left him and gone to London.

"It was you all along, it never was Grace. I thought I did but –" Tommy's voice cracked, only slightly, causing you to falter, wanting to reach out and hold him because he did look like a defeated man. It was funny how Tommy was saying it now, how he truly felt about you, but you knew how it was too late.

You still loved Tommy, with all your heart. But you two weren't meant to be. Not in this lifetime. You were never selfish, had never been selfish, and you couldn't abandon the man who took your hand in his when Tommy had thrown you out like discarded clothes.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Thomas." You flinched at the harshness of your own words and it didn't fail to come into your notice the sudden stiffness that came over Tommy when you called him by his first name, something you never really did. "You don't get to just bloody walk in and out of my life whenever you want, just because you are Thomas Fuckin' Shelby. I waited for you, for fucking years. You think that was a joke? Ey?" You pointed your index finger, stabbing Tommy's chest with your pointed nail when he didn't reply, his head almost lowered when he realized he didn't have the answers you wanted him to give you. "I cried myself to sleep every fucking night, Thomas. I wanted you, I needed you but you chose her. I waited for you patiently when you were fighting the fuckin' war, hoping you would come back to me but you didn't even look at me."

You pushed Tommy backwards, his weight surprisingly light as he almost stumbled backwards but regained his form. You moved away from him, pulling out a box of cigarettes from underneath your pillow as your fingers fumbled against the box to pull out a stick.

"You chose her, Tommy. Now who gives you the bloody right to just barge your way in here and try to claim me for yourself?" You hadn't realized when your lips had started trembling and hot tears had started skimming down your cheeks. Tommy let out a barely audible sigh as he brought his palms closer to your face, his reluctance to hold you pretty evident.

"I fucked up, I know that. You think I didn't fucking think about this? How you deserved to be happy after the fucking mess I put you through?" His voice was broken, his palms holding your face in his hefty fingers, cupping your cheeks.

"Well you didn't think well enough, Tommy." You whispered, almost choking on your sob.

"Love, I need you to give me a chance, to show you that I am a changed man, for you."

His statement caused you to flinch, your arms moving up to fix your hands on his palms that you shoved away, causing him to look at you with pain stricken eyes.

"You're mistaken, Tommy. Some people don't change. For anyone. And you haven't changed for me. You just realized I moved on and that is bloody bothering you." You croak.

You brought up the cigarette to your lips, inching the smoke and brought your hand down, moving two steps away from where he stood, his eyes burning a hole into yours.

"Tommy, we can't. We were never meant to be. You know it. Had Grace not left you, you wouldn't even think about me. I'm nothing but a second choice for you. And I refuse to be that." You forced yourself to look away, anywhere but his haunting blue eyes, the eyes that you knew could make you weak and destroy the wall you had built up around you. Bits of that wall had already started to crumble.

"So is this it, (Y/N)? Is this how we end?"

You looked up at him and realized that his eyes were moist. He brought up his hand to his face, pinching his nose and then ran his fingers through his obsidian hair.

You gave him a faint smile, lowering yourself against the edge of your bed as you brought up the cigarette to your lips once again, "We ended a long time ago, Tom. We ended the day you chose Grace."

Your words were like an arrow shot right through Tommy's heart, and at the same time, through your heart as well. It hurt you to see him, the man who never broke down in front of anyone, looking so lost, so forlorn, sitting by the edge of your bed next to you, his elbows resting against his knees, his face buried in his hands. You couldn't see his face, or his hidden eyes. Or he intentionally wanted to hide his weakness from you. You. You were his weakness.

Suddenly, he lifted his head up, craning it towards you so that he could get a better look of you and you saw his red, swollen eyes. He reached forward, slowly taking your hand in his, his fingers entwining with yours, reluctant at first, as he had expected you to pull your hand away. You didn't.

"You won't change your mind? Not even if I love you?" His voice was so raw, it made him the boy he had been to you, before the war had changed him.

You shook your head, slowly, squeezing his hand as he held on to it.

"It's too late for that, Tom. I have always loved you and you love me now –" Your words stopped at your throat, leaving you with your mouth agape, struggling to speak, " – but Chris is a good man, Tommy. He is a good man. I don't love him the way I have loved you but he was with me when I had no one to turn to, when I cried myself to bed at nights, while Grace kept your bed warm and mine was cold."

"Fuck." Tommy cursed, barely audible, looking down at the floor, his hand still holding yours, the grip tight, as though he was afraid of letting you go.

Finally, after what felt like ages of silence, which must have been a minute, he let go off your hand, your hand suddenly feeling numb and cold, due to the lack of his warmth. He stood up and cleared his throat, his eyes looking everywhere but into yours.

"Well then." He turned to look at you, which you felt was the last time. "Let me walk you down the aisle then, no matter how much it hurts me, I want to be the one to give you away."

"Jesus, Tommy –" You pressed your palm to your lips that were trembling uncontrollably now, not wanting to break down in front of him. Your tears caused him to clench his hands into fists, hanging loosely by his sides. When he could see those tears no more, he grabbed you by your arms, pushing you to the wall behind, your back hitting the wall with a thud, his hands placed on either side of you. You were taken by a surprise, your heart beating frantically inside your chest, so fast, it could have won over a fucking racehorse. Your gaze fell, unable to keep it fixed on his raging blue eyes.

"Look at me one last time then, before we go back to being strangers." His thumb came to rest on your cheek, stroking your skin in gentle strokes. Teary eyed, you rose your eyes, making them meet his once icy eyes, that had all the warmth reflecting in them.

"Let me kiss you one last time, love. For old times sake. The kiss we never got to experience, the one that should have fucking happened years ago." With that said, he took a step closer towards you, removing what little distance you both had left in front of each other, his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, a weak yelp escaping your lips. You let your eyes close for a split second before craning your neck slightly upwards, your lips hovering directly over his plump ones as you brought them to his lips, giving him a bittersweet peck. Within seconds, what was meant as a peck turned into a raw and passionate kiss, mixed with the taste of your own salty tears, and probably his too. Finally, with much reluctance, you broke the kiss, placing a hand on Tommy's chest to keep him away from you and looked away as it was time for him to go.

"Goodbye Tommy, and try to stay out of danger." You gave him a weak smile, your deep longing for him and the pain it caused you hidden behind that fake smile of yours. Tommy took a step away from you and then another, reaching for his Blinders cap that was laying abandoned on the bed, lifting it up and flinging it to his head, all this while his eyes fixed on you.

With one last look, he walked up to your front door, his shoulders stiff, his hands clenched into fists by his side. When he reached the door, he paused for a bit, his hand grabbing your doorframe for support but he didn't turn to look at you.

"Don't let the fire fizzle out in you, love. It's this fire that I love about you, that makes you different. From anyone I ever met. It's this bloody fire that brings warmth to me. Don't let it fizzle out."

With that, he was gone. With that, you crashed to the floor, your knees scraping against the wooden floorboards as you let out the sobs that you had been holding in, like a tsunami.

Tommy meant what he said. It was Thomas Shelby that walked you down the aisle on the day of your wedding to Chris. He was there the entire time, seething, burning but had a smile etched to his face, watching the woman he loved get married to someone else. For the first time, he had voluntarily chosen to lose for you and maybe this was why you believed him when he said that he loved you.

It was on the day of your wedding that you realized Thomas Shelby really loved you, enough to watch you marry another man, just because you wanted to.

You blinked. The memory, although hazy, was still fresh in your mind. You turned to your left, your eyes falling on your one year old daughter sleeping soundly, her chest rising up and down as she slept. Chris died six months after your daughter, Rosemary was born. Influenza. Grace died, giving him a son, causing Thomas Shelby to marry Lizzie Starke, and you were happy for him. Neither of you met again.

You ran your fingers lightly over her tiny black hair, pushing them off her face.

"One day, when you are old enough, my love. I might tell you the truth of how I never loved your father. He was my friend and I loved him, but I was always in love with someone else. You are too young to understand, but I hope you find the man you truly love."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader

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just-another-ficwriter · 4 years ago

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Holidate - Part Four

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 2000ish

Warnings: Alcohol, jealously, sexual references

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: Next part will be posted over Easter week! Also using this part to fill the ‘Bar Crawl’ square on my @riverdalebingo card!

St Patrick’s Day 2021

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

She whispers as they make their way into the first bar, squeezing the fingers he has linked with hers, a small attempt to make their relationship look more believable.

He’d arrived in New York a little after the others, leaving them no time to talk things over and plan the night out. He’d barely gotten his head around the fact they’d be sharing a bed for the weekend before they were piling into a cab and heading down town.

“What else are Holidates for?” He grins down at her, eyes not so subtle moving to check her out for the second time that night. He reads the green glittered writing for what feels like the millionth time, ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish’ printed in bold across her chest.

An impulse buy, she had told him, from their first St Patrick’s night out several years before. It’s little too tight, and she’s constantly fighting with it to stay down, but she’d promised it would help them get free shots later in the night and they’d both laughed.

By the time they make it over to the table, Jason’s around bought the first round and with a beer bottle held high in the air, he kicks off the celebrations.

It isn’t until the second place, and the drinks start to take affect, that Betty starts to pry.

The boys had disappeared to the bar, watching some sport on the big screen, chatting away while they wait for the drinks. Pea had no issue fitting right in, and Polly was quick to notice.

“I like him.” She steals a glance over her shoulder at the guy in question.

“Do you think you’ll move in with him?” Betty suddenly asks, straight to the point, and Y/N chokes on the cocktail she’d mistakenly just taken a sip of.

She’s surprised to see Sweet Pea’s head turn to check she’s ok when he hears, a soft smile on his face when their eyes meet. She sends him a similar warm one back before she’s glaring at her sisters again. “We’ve only been dating for 3 months.”

“I had my whole life planned out with Jug after the first week.” She wants to point out that not everyone can be like Betty Cooper, not everyone gets to live out a fairytale lifestyle with their high school sweetheart like she had once hoped.

But a hint of guilt from lying straight to their faces swirls in her stomach, and she bites back the snide remark. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Is he bad in bed?” Polly’s more drunk than she thought, and her loud questioning catches the attention of the next table over. However, the older Cooper doesn’t seem to notice. “I mean you guys have done it right-“

“Has who done what?” She’s cut off by the boys reappearing, bearing a tray of fresh drinks and a suspicious look from Jug.

Betty smirks. “Polly wants to know if Sweet Pea and Y/N have slept together.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jason laughs, shaking his head as Y/N suddenly finds interest in the cocktail umbrella sticking out of her drink.

But then a silence falls cross the table, and all four pairs of eyes turn to them, eagerly waiting for an answer. “Well?” Polly persists.

Unfazed, Sweet Pea squeezes her thigh under the table and answers for them both. “A gentleman never tells.”

By the time they hit the third bar, Sweet Pea’s boarding tipsy.

He can feel it in the way his jaw clenches when someone catches Y/N’s arm as she walks passed, in the way his chest burns unfamiliar as she leans in for a hug and the stranger pecks her on the cheek.

He knows it’s stupid, knows that technically she isn’t his girlfriend but the lines of reality are starting to blur as the alcohol soaks in and he can’t stop himself from walking over.

Y/N sends him a pointed look as discreetly as she can when he pulls her into his side, and causally introduces himself as her boyfriend. Five minutes later, they’re walking away with polite goodbyes and heading straight for the bar.

Y/N can’t help but look up at him with a smug grin, giggling a little as she teases. “Were you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t actually my girlfriend remember?” He tries to brush it off but something tells him they both know it’s a lie. He’s quick to think of another excuse that’s better than the first. “I was just worried what your sisters might say if they found you talking to some other guy.”

“They’d say Hey Chuck, how have you been since high school?” She laughs again and it makes him feel worse. That stranger wasn’t a stranger at all, and he’d almost made a scene over two old friends catching up.

Maybe he was finding this whole fake dating thing hard than he thought.

She doesn’t seem to notice as she waves at the bar tender, calling him over. “Come on, we need more shots.”

Sweet Pea’s almost certain he doesn’t need any more shots.

The fourth bar brings green beers and another round of tequila.

Polly raises her glass in the air, liquor messily pouring over the rim and down her hand. “To Y/N’s love life!”

“Cheers to that!” Betty’s quick to follow, giggling loudly as she clinks their glasses together and more goes spilling over.

He watches Y/N roll her eyes at their teasing with a shake of her head, but knocks her own shot back regardless, holding eye contact as he does the same. Neither flinch at the liquid burning it’s way down their throats.

It feels more intimate than it should and for a second Sweet Pea forgets they’re around other people.

But then the song blasting out around them changes and Y/N’s leaning forward to whisper confidently in his ear, her breath tickling his neck. “Dance with me?”

She’s on her feet before he can answer, not that he would have said no anyway, pulling him through the crowd until they find an empty space under the flashing lights. Sweet Pea can feel the beat of the music vibrating beneath them, flowing through him almost as much as the alcohol and lets it take control.

One song some how turns into three, or maybe four, he’s lost count. He’s too entranced by Y/N swaying back and fore in front of him, head tilted back as she moves to the rhythm, her back almost against his chest. She doesn’t move away when he’s finally brave enough to close that small gap, a nervous hand falling to her hip as she leans back against him.

The action alone makes his throat burn more than any shot of tequila could.

Y/N swears she sees his eyes light up when they walk into the fifth and final bar, and Jug invites him to play on the pool table tucked in the corner.

“Oh, it’s on.” There’s a new air of confidence surrounding him now as he picks up a cue, and she finds it a little too easy to fall into the roll of supportive girlfriend, cheering him on when the game starts.

He finds himself gravitating back to her side in between every shot. A lose arm around her shoulders, a delicate kiss to her forehead. They’d both become more handsy as the night wore on and she’d welcomed every affectionate touch.

She screams in triumph when he pockets the last ball, solidifying his win. Victorious laughter punctuating the air between them as he scoops her up, spinning her around in celebration.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s flowing through her system, or the rush of adrenaline pulsing from his win, but Y/N suddenly uses her newly found height to her advantage, pressing an eager kiss to his lips.

It takes her all of a second to realise what she’s doing, but before she can pull alway, he’s kissing her back.

And with that, she’s phasing out the rest of the bar, ignoring the loud music and jostling bodies, only focusing on him.

Until Betty’s shouting out and they’re jumping apart. “Get a room!”

Sweet Pea huffs as she throws him down on the bed.

Getting him into the apartment had been a task, even with Jason and Jug holding him up. It didn’t help that they were almost as drunk as him.

She doesn’t get the chance to slip out and change before he’s catching her wrist, pulling her to the mattress with a gentle tug.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers into the dark, fingertips running up and down her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

There’s a still moment where her eyes find his, and he’s left wondering if she knows what he’s about to say, if she wants him to say it. If he should even be thinking it at all. But then she giggles, the sound making him feel warm before she finally answers. “Sure.”

He gives her a goofy grin, but hesitates when her palms fall flat against his chest. His heart’s beating so fast he’s suddenly afraid she might feel it through his shirt, he’s very aware of how close they are now. “Sometimes, I forget this isn’t real.” He breathes out.

Y/N feels her heart vault in her throat from his words, her eyes wide from the confession.

She tries to laugh it off but there’s a nervousness hidden underneath. “You’re drunk Pea.”

“Still mean it.” He mumbles, shifting so he lands onto his back and lazily pulls her with him.

She’s quick to tuck herself into his side, inviting the warmth radiating from him as she doubts he even knows what he’s saying. She makes the decision to close her eyes and ignore it instead. “Go to sleep Pea.”

Sweet Pea rolls over onto fitted sheets that definitely aren’t his. His head hurts with a pounding ache, and just when he feels brave enough to open his eyes a little and sneak a glance around him, he’s hit with a blinding light so harsh it makes him feel sick.

That’s when he remembers last night. Or at least parts of it anyway. Everything’s a blur after the third bar.

“Shit.” He groans, his throat painfully dry as he blindly pats the bed next to him in an attempt to find Y/N, only to feel nothing but empty space instead.

“Morning Sunshine.” She laughs from where she makes her way into the room, amused by his dishevelled hair and lack of enthusiasm at being awake.

It takes a few seconds, but eventually he attempts to open his eyes again, reluctant and slow. Another groan slips out. “Why don’t you look how I feel?”

“Years of practice I guess.” She shrugs, slipping in besides him and handing over a warm mug. “Thought some coffee might help.”

Their finger tips briefly touch and thoughts of last night come back to him, his cheeks burning red in shame. He takes a quick sip that burns his tongue and hopes she won’t notice.

They’d kissed. Or at least he thinks they had. It’s all a little hazy.

“Did we…” He can’t meet her gaze, refuses to look up and see her reaction. Instead he just lamely points between them and the bed.

“Sleep together?” She leans back into the mattress with a devilish glint in her eye, her next words sounding more flirtatious than she intended. “Trust me Pea, you’d remember if we did.”

He smirks in her direction, tilting his head to the side playfully with an eyebrow raised. All awkward tension from a minute before melts away as he chuckles in surprise. “Is that so?”

“Just drink your coffee, Betty wants to go exploring New York.” A pillow hits him on the side of his face with a soft thud and another round of laughter erupts between them. She wonders if now is the right time to bring up his drunk confession but quickly changes her mind. “And you definitely look like you need all the caffeine you can get.”

Sweet Pea Masterlist

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818 @dcnerd98

#riverdale bingo #sweet pea #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea series #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea edit #sweet pea fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale sweet pea #riverdale edit #riverdale series #riverdale imagine #riverdale fanfiction

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deepdonutkid · 4 years ago

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Can I ask for multiple character break downs?👀

Well if I can, then would you please do one for Ada and one for Tommy and one for John

But if only one has to be done, then you can choose any one of these.

Thanks! <3

Thanks for the ask! 💞

Ada Thorne nee Shelby

How I feel about this character

Just love for her! She is adorable, strong, fierce, absolutely amazing! Ada and Polly are the best developed female character on the show. Mainly, because Tommy can’t fuck them, so they can’t be reduced to his love interest, which is such a good thing, because I love strong women. Makes me weak in my knees.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Freddie Thorne, Ben Younger, Jessie Eden, because Ada is bi, she just gives off that vibe, u know.

Somehow I prefer to read stuff with a female reader for her, more than a male reader for her. Because it’s either Freddie x Ada for me or Ada x female reader.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Lizzie, Polly, Ada and Linda are an amazing combination! She and Tommy have an interesting dynamic as well! I would have loved to see more John and Ada interactions, because they have not such a big age gap inbetween, so I think they are close. Especially after Ada got her child and John got married with Esme. Oh, Ada and Esme would have sooo much fun together. Esme would be like the sister Ada never had.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think her character changed a lot between season 1 and 2, because of Freddie’s death and also after she joined the business again. Sometimes when I make memes or the alignment charts, I have two icons for her, one from first season and one from third season, because I think she is one of the characters who changed the most through the series. First season Ada would do a lot of things different and more naive than third season Ada. Mainly, because she still believed in communism in season 1 and she somehow lost her faith after losing Freddie. Which is super understandable tho.

She acutally becomes wiser with age... unlike her brothers, who just do the same shit over and over again.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wished Ben hadn’t died, because they kill her lovers even fast than Tommys. WTF, right?

On the other hand I wished Ada talked some sense into Jessie, to NOT SLEEP WITH TOMMY THE WHORE SHELBY! Because Ada knows her brother very well and I think she genuinely liked Jessie, or she liked her enough to save her from the pain of being Tommy’s toy or pleasure doll.

And I’m still bitter about the way they killed of Freddie... but more about that later...

Tommy Shelby

How I feel about this character

Relationship status: It’s complicated!

Yes, well, I ramble about Tommy’s shit a lot. I know! He is still an intersting character and it’s so tempting to think about his actions in certain situations, but if I would meet him as a person- I would hate him from the bottom of my heart! <3

He is such an asshole all the time and when I first watched the show, I forgave him a lot he did to his siblings, because I was caught up with his good looks and the presentation of him being the good guy who does bad things to survive. But I spend some time to think about his actions and I noticed, he is an awful human being... to Polly, to his siblings, to his lover and actually to everyone. He might think he does all those mean things to archive a bigger goal, but he is just a gambling addict who can’t stop taking risks he isn’t even prepared for.

Shitty things Tommy has done over time:

Forcing his brother to marry somebody, John didn’t even know at that time, to end a feud, Tommy had started himself and only when it was in his favour to end it, he used John as pawn, so he could archive his plan. HOW FUCKED UP WAS THAT? Nobody seems to talk about this. It was fucking awful! And the way he did it was horrible to! Tommy said nothing to John until the very last moment, when they were already surrounded by enemies, so John couldn’t said no. It also shows, that Tommy thinks he is above his siblings. Tommy thought John wasn’t capable of chosing a wife for himself, so Tommy did that for him too. Even when John didn’t ask for this at all!

Destroying Ada’s relationship with Freddie and chasing his best friend out of town, just because... TOMMY WAS AGAINGST HIS SISTER HAVING A RELATIONSHIP. and yet he proclaimes to listen to woman and to give them a fair change. Maybe just not for our dear Ada!

Destroying Arthur’s marriage, because he kept dragging Arthur into shit, he wasn’t mentally stable enough for. Putting thoughts of rejecting Linda into Arthur’s head, by talking bad about Linda and making jokes about her any given time.

Sleeping with Lizzie over and over again, even when he knew she loved him and when she tried to get over him by dating someone new, he made the order to burn down the pub of Angel, humilated his family, and have him killed later.

Sleeping with Jessie, so he could use her

Humiliate Polly, when she was at her lowest, after Rueben had left her

Drag Michael into the illegal business after Polly begged him not to

Dragging Finn into all this shit after John died, because John wasn’t avaiable anymore

Calling Grace a whore, when they first met

Paying Lizzie in his head, even after she stopped being a sex worker

Helping a fascist

I could go on for a while, but you see my point here!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Nobody! I want to see him miserable and alone! Honestly I’m never going to read all these soft!Tommy fics or whatever, because they really don’t interest me. I don’t want to see him happy.

But go have fun people and write and read whatever you want!

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Tommy and Lizzie, because they have a sexual relationship, which is not based on romance and I love this sad and depressing dynamic between them. It’s so interesting to write and read about.

Tommy and Ada are great in the show. I love their talks and Ada actually points out when Tommy is acting like a douche again.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I have a lot... where should I start?

I get so annoyed, when I see Tommy shown as a twink, because the actor is just 1,70m... which is not small to me. I know a lot of men around that height and I think they are average and not small. Also a lot of men feel bad for not being tall enough, because everywhere in our society it’s normal to have a tall man and a small woman. And the way tall man or small man are sexualized in this alpha/omega thing or in a top/bottom dynamic is so... meh. It’s really uncomfortable to see how people try to push the patriarchal man-woman dynamic into same-sex relationships.

Tommy is a class traitor and a horrible husband.

Man, I could rant for hours, but I stop right here. Just remember, please don’t feel attacked, I don’t mean to attack you. Even if you write or draw... whatever with Tommy, I would never say something bad about this. Enjoy creating Tommy content, I will love to ignore it!

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I was so disappointed when they killed Freddie, because those two could have had an interesting and compelling relationship. Freddie could have been a great frenemie. I put this here and on on Ada, because their marriage wouldn’t changed the plot as much as Freddies and Tommys friendship. Tommy would have been a way better person, if Freddie was around.

John Shelby

How I feel about this character

MY HUSBAND! I love him and he has never done anything wrong in his life.

Nah, John has many faults, but I still adore him as a character, because his faults are actually making the plot more interesting. I also read, that he and Tommy fight a lot, because John is more moral and has way more integrity than his older brother. It was just hinted in the show, but I love this side fact and I will base my whole characterisation this.

I love to write, draw and read stuff with him. He is my favorite character from Peaky blinders and my love will never die, even though he did.

Funny tho, when I first watched PB, I adored Tommy and was annoyed by John, but as I rewatched it I changed my mind about those two.

He had so much potential and I would spend all my money, which is not much, but the devotions counts, to see a spin-off with just John and his army of children.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Esme, because they are sooo cute together!

My OFC, because I love writing them.

Any reader, because I’m a sucker for John.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

All kinds of interactions with other characters and John are great! My favorite is John and Ada to be honest. But here are other dynamics I adore as well:

John & Polly, (she would help him a lot with the kids)

John & Arthur (they come to the garrison to drink and play cards, they talk a lot about their problems, deep bond here)

John & Tommy (in my head they are always fighting)

John & Lizzie, because they have a great friendship, and they helped each other a lot. She spend time with the kids and he gave her financial support, so she would quit her job, which she didn’t do, because she feared being all alone again, and she has trust issues) (I’m actually writing a fic about these two)

John & his kids (I’m soft for dad!John)

John & Michael (especially in season three, because John seems to be jealous of Michael)

My unpopular opinion about this character

John is not completely stupid. Well, he is certainly not smart, but he works in the betting shop, and Arthur does not, or not really, because Arthur is bad at math... John at least knows his numbers. And also Tommy chose him to be the legal bookie over the others, so John must do a good job there. He just never got a degree or something similar like Michael. Which is also a reason, why John seems to be bitter about Michael joining the business. Michael was put in a higher position than he did.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

This one is obvious... John should have survived.

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musicallisto · 4 years ago

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Hello love,

Congratulations for the 800 followers! You absolutely deserve this and so much more! I'm happy to see how your blog grows and that you're still providing all of us with wonderful content. You're one of the first blogs that I've started to follow here on Tumblr and I'm so lucky to have found your blog ♡

As for your celebration event, could I please request a 🍨 vanilla milkshake with a male Peaky Blinders Character?

I'm more on the curvy side (and insecure about it) and I'm ALWAYS wearing black (which I love, no matter what others say or even more if they object). As for my personality, I'm a highly complex, paradox and complicated individium. I'm unbelievable patient, timid, awkward, kind, forgiving, open-minded, compassionate, thruthful, gentle and calm and I've been told that I have a calming effect on others, that I can easily ground anyone and anything, no matter how troubled their mind is. I prefer vintage over modern things. I think rather deep which often leads me to overthinking everything, which in turn leads me to doubting (very much) myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (but I like it this way). I'm always well-meaning, yet often misunderstood (maybe because it's hard for me to articulate myself). I can be incredible lazy, clumsy and forgetful. I've always felt like I don't really belong anywhere, so I've started to distance myself from others a while ago. I'm a outsider, weird, a dork, not normal, a loner and I fucking love it, because I like to be different, I would hate to fit into just one box and to be like everyone else. And I like people who are not ashamed to be their 100% true self, no matter how different that is from the mainstream. I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. That says a lot, because I'm hard to scare away. Sometimes I feel alienated from the people and things surrounding me and I'm sure that I annoy and bore them. I'm very nervous and insecure around others, which is why I try to avoid people and why I'm not talking all that much around them (though, I'm a really good listener). I'm easily overwhelmed by large crowds and much light/noise, that's why I don't like to go outside, I prefer to cozy up at home. I would never intentionally hurt a animal and I'm not eating any meat, which is very important to me. I believe that there isn't a ounce of cruelty inside me. I'm unassuming and understanding, I only believe what I've witnessed on my own and I have endless acceptance for almost everything. Due to my Insomnia, I'm a night owl. I have strong personal values, am very opinionated and I'm really in-touch with myself and even though I'm extremly insecure, I would never reduce or change myself and views/opinions for someone and I neither have a problem to challenge authority and advocating for my beliefs. I'm a perfectionist and sometimes I really hate it. And, as you can see, I'm unable to be brief. My favourite colours are dark green, black, gold and dark purple. My greatest passion is music, even if I can't sing or play an instrument.(I prefer rock/punk/pop/80s/90s) It's the most calming and therapeutic thing when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. And otherwise I love to watch films and series (I like fantasy, horror, psychological thriller, science fiction and psychological drama and almost anything from the 70s, 80s and 90s). I love rainy days and to go outside while it's pouring big, fat drops. What I love the most is to drive around without a destination, while talking and listening to music. And I love to spend time with my cat, if I could, I would have endless animals who live peacefully and loved with me. I enjoy to have deep talks and to be challenged to think. I love to take late-night-strolls, while gazing into the sky and watching the stars/moon. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things.

I really hope that's not too much? But thank you anyway ♡

Have a good day!

thank you so much for your kind words, you have no idea how much it means to me to know that I was one of the first blogs you followed ;; here’s your vanilla milkshake - and it’s also my first time writing for peaky blinders, but I hope it’s alright; and I hope finn shelby will find the portrait I paint of him accurate enough...

Birmingham was a drab and disheartening place enough without the war adding to its joylessness; but somehow the streets are even worse to bear deserted than when they’re bustling and fetid. Especially for a ten year old boy who wants nothing but to play with someone, to talk to someone, to see someone.

With his brothers off fighting somewhere in France and his aunt too busy with her businesses (adult stuff that Finn has absolutey no interest in attempting to understand), the youngest Shelby has been fighting off an affliction worse than consumption and measles, because much more insidious for a boy his age; boredom

and he’s so sad, so irrevocably sad, with no one to bruise his knees with and throw mud at, that he just aimlessly wanders the empty streets whenever aunt Polly isn’t looking, to find a semblance of stimulation

(he used to enjoy the solitude, it gave him time to imagine delirious stories in fantastical worlds and read the most enthralling of novels, but not anymore. four years of reclusion is an awfully long time for a little boy.)

and it’s during one of his escapades that he first meets you

you’re a little girl his age, dressed in a pretty dress, wearing pretty booties and holding a pretty little woven basket, but your face is stuck on the most grouchy frown he’s ever seen on a little girl, and you don’t walk, you stomp down the wet pavement like a wrathful titan

And it’s probably the first time in four years that he’s been this close to making a new friend, so he walks up to you, despite how rusty his communication skills have become

“Girls don’t frown. It’s unbecoming.”

(Yes, pretty rusty indeed; but in his defense, he’s ten, he’s bored, he’s lonely, and he’s only ever heard Ada say it, and Ada is the most level-headed of his siblings, so anything she says must be true, right?)

“Shut up.”

(Well, if it was unbecoming of you to frown, it’s even more to rebuff someone so rudely. You don’t even spare a glance and continue walking; he has to hurry to catch up to you.)

“You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“How do you know that?”

“My family says it all the time, but they told me I can’t say it.”

“Well, my family is not your family. And I hate my family!”

You’ve yelled the last words at the sky, so loud that the crows on the neighboring roofs have taken off in a startled flight.

“They want to wear this stupid dress to go to the stupid market to buy stupid meat. I don’t even want to eat meat, that’s cruel! And I don’t even want to wear a frilly dress! I want to wear black!”

And in saying so you tugged at the pink and white ribbons that encircled your waist.

And Finn couldn’t help being extremely intrigued at this little girl who said bad words and refused to eat meet and wanted to wear black. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen in all the duration of the war.

“You want to wear a black dress?”

“Yes, but my mama won’t let me. She says it’s too sad because of the war. But black isn’t sad! Black is beautiful!”

“Maybe I could find you a black dress. I’m sure my sister must have one. Where do you live?”

And, loyal to his promise, the following morning he had run to your doorstep and snuck into your house - a proper Shelby talent, to be able to go unnoticed or make a ruckus depending on the occasion - with an old, crinkled mourning dress of Ada’s, that had probably belonged to his mother and had been mended several times

And it was obviously five sizes too big for you and you looked more like a ghost from one of Finn’s horror novels, your arms floating in the sleeves and the hem of the skirt pooling at your feet, but your smile was the brightest light he’d ever seen in this whole damn town.

“Do you like it?”

(He didn’t really know why he sounds so nervous. Maybe it was having a friend, a real friend, and doing something personal for them... or maybe it had to do with how fast his heart beat, watching you in that gigantic, shapeless dress)

“I love it! Thank you so much, Finn!”

From then on started one of the most wonderful friendships Finn would ever have, and what would bring a ray of light to the grim existence of a little boy in the midst of a global war

Despite the ration cards, despite the loneliness, despite the worry that tugged at his stoic aunt’s eyes for her son and nephews across the Channel... he found an unspeakable solace in your friendship

And one day, without a trace, you were gone

He knocked on your door; gone. He asked all the neighbors what had happened to the family that lived there; gone. He wrote you letters and sent them to the confines of England; gone. He got scolded by Polly for marking numbers at random on Tommy’s state-of-the-art telephone; gone.

Suddenly he was back to the bleak existence he had battled with before meeting you, and the hollow inside his chest only grew wider as the days went on, because he had no explanation as to what had happened to you, and worried every single day

Thankfully, the war ended not long after, and his brothers came back home, all alive and unscathed - well, for the most part

Fast forward more or less ten years, and much has changed in Finn Shelby’s life and in old Birmingham, but the memory of you still stugs at his heartstrings

One evening, he’s tasked by Arthur to run some errands, send a few messages, scout a few places; the most dangerous thing his older brothers will ever let him do

His task leads him to a bar in the center of town, one that pours its joyous light and music into the street outside; he’s there to meet with a client, arrange a meeting; nothing he’s hasn’t done already

But the evening takes a turn for the unexpected when he recognizes the girl sat alone at a table, enjoying the musicians’ jazz with an air of pure bliss on her face

It’s been ten years, of course, but... it’s unmistakable. That face, that silhouette, and the black ensemble from head to toe... and he’s always had a knack for remembering faces, especially those that mark him deeply

Suddenly he’s frozen on the spot, and he has forgotten why he came to the bar in the first place, what his target looks like - all he knows is you, and how beautiful you look in the dim light of the bar, and the undisclosed and unknown feelings he had for you at the time come flooding back.

Except this time, he understands, and he fears them, because he doesn’t have time for any of this, and it’s way too dangerous for you and him

But he can’t just pass you by and not say a word?

He swallows, hard.

And walks up to you.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, and your face flashes with recognition, and a little bit of pain as well. Even if you fled without a word, and left him hanging all these years, he’s incapable of rancor

“Finn... wow, you’ve changed so much.”

“You haven’t.”

He gestures at your face, your clothes, how you savor the music like the finest drink in the world, and you laugh and blush, sending his heart into overdrive

“Where were you all this time?”

“I’m so sorry, Finn... my brother died in the war, and... my mom sent me to live with my grandparents in Scotland. We were all destroyed by grief... I needed to get away.”

“Without explanation? Not even a word?”

“I wanted to write to you, so bad, but... I couldn’t remember your address. I couldn’t remember anything about Birmingham at all...”

He nods, slowly, in understanding.

The war opens wounds that never heal, even after all the most beautiful friendships and love stories in the world.

“But I’m really glad I found you.”

His heart is pounding in his throat. Maybe it’s a sign of destiny that he found you here, tonight, alone, and ready to welcome him back. Maybe it’s a word from fate, that you can never truly be apart.

So he takes the seat in front of you, and you smile, that shy but bright smile of yours, and he forgets all about his mission, his client, and his brothers.

They’ll have to understand.

800 follower sleepover

#lunamooney2406 #sleepover800 #ship request #peaky blinders #peaky blinders ship #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders headcanons #finn shelby headcanons #for some reason the first thing I write for a new fandom is always SUPER LONG but that's because i get rlly in my feelings

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wouldpollyapprove · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanon: Being In A Poly Relationship With Tommy & Isaiah

Request: Being in a poly relationship with tommy and Isaiah ? Living in Tommy’s big house just you three ♥️

Requested by Anonymous

Thomas Shelby x Reader x Isaiah Jesus

Warnings: Poly relationship, alcohol, drugs

A/N: I’m gonna say the same thing I did last time I did one of these. If you don’t agree with this, don’t read it. I don’t wanna hear how you don’t agree with relationships like this or how it’s wrong. We thing it’s okay to tell people how to live their lives but it’s not. Let people love who ever the fuck they want and do whatever the fuck they want. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Masterlist

You had first met the two men at a party a friend had dragged you to. She didn’t want to go alone and insisted that you would have a marvelous time.

She wasn’t wrong.

The second Tommy and Isaiah laid eyes on you, they knew they couldn’t end the night without talking to you.

At first, it was friendly competition. See who could get to you first. But soon they realized it was easy to band together and talk to you together.

You were just as taken with them as they are with you and before you knew it, they had swept you off your feet.

How you’d ended up in a relationship with the pair was a mystery to you.

It was almost like your relationship train didn’t stop at the friendship station, went straight to romance.

Not that you were complaining though.

It was an instant connection with the three of you and after a few months Tommy had you and Isaiah move in with him.

His house was massive and there were many times you got lost throughout the many hallways.

But it also made it easy to fool around without a maid walking in and, trust me, both men took advantage of that.

When you and Isaiah moved in, Tommy made sure to buy a bigger bed and you were the first to try it out.

That bed was were the three of you spent most of your time.

Normally, you three would just lay in bed, soaking in the presences of one another.

Often times, as Charlie was a toddler, he would make an appearance, crying for attention.

You had no issue taking the child in your arms even if it interrupted something. He was so sweet, there was no way you could say no to him.

And Isaiah and Tommy loved watching you interact with him.

The three of you had never discussed the idea of having children, but the look Tommy and Isaiah shared with each other told the every thing they needed to know.

When it came to living in a mansion, you would often hold parties to keep yourself busy.

Tommy and Isaiah weren’t huge fans but they would do anything for you.

When you three weren’t hosting parties, you guys would go on walks around the grounds.

Horse rides.

Picnics.

The options were limitless.

You loved nature and loved seeing the men out of their suits and enjoying themselves.

When it came to your families, you were surprised by how accepting everyone was.

Tommy’s aunt loved you simply because you weren’t Grace. She loved you for other reasons as well, but that was the one she cared about the most.

Polly knew you would never do anything to hurt her nephew or his family and she couldn’t ask for anything more.

Isaiah’s father was a little hesitant about it at first.

He accepted that times were changing and he would never be able to keep up with what was acceptable.

So, he really didn’t care. It wasn’t his life, therefore, it wasn’t his problem.

To your family and theirs, as long as the three of you were happy, they didn’t care.

And believe me, y’all were happy.

Well.... most of the time.

There were times you and Isaiah would get into trouble.

Harmless, really, but Tommy never saw it that way.

He was a mother hen, whether he’d admit it or not, and scold the two of you before taking care of the both of you.

When he’d come home to find the two of you drunk in his office, he’d leave you on the sofa while he helped Isaiah up the stairs.

Once both of you were in your shared bed, he would help you both change into something more comfortable, ignoring the drunken mutters.

There was one time Finn had come over while his brother was out, bringing Snow with him.

Isaiah and you never could tell where to draw the line and by the time Tommy got home, both of you were as high as a kite.

Finn about died that day.

And he was almost always the reason the two of you got in trouble.

But there was nothing Tommy could do, neither of you would listen and Finn didn’t even listen to himself.

So, he just had to sit back, a first aide kit in his lap, and wait for the people he loved to do something stupid.

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to any of the tag lists.

Permanent: @amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee @multi-fandom-iimagines @tarafaithe @jenepleurepasbaby @fernweh-fangirl @the-anxious-youth @theshelbyclan @wtfdanness @chloeforde @futuristicslimemongerbanana @lucillethings @nemesis729 @sirkekselord @princesscornbread @i-volunteer-for-finnick @iwillboilyourteeth @anyasthoughts

Peaky Blinders: @simonsblue

Thomas Shelby: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader x isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus imagine #isaiah jesus imagines #isaiah jesus x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shleby imagines #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader

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peakyxtommy · 4 years ago

Text

The First Two Years - Wedding Series AU

Summary: Tommy reflecting back on his first two years of his relationship with the reader as he prepares to ask your father for his blessing to marry you. (Modern AU , Bit OOC) | 3.3K |

Warnings: Slight Violence, Death , Mostly Fluff

He knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. While he sat in his main office, taking a rare break, he was staring at the engagement ring he brought a month ago. Nobody knew except for him, despite Polly having some suspicion. It made him feel giddy on the inside, lovesick, but it was the one thing he was sure of, that he truly wanted. You.

He was sure and trusted you more than anyone. He knew you loved him, but there was always that fear in the back of his head that he wasn’t good enough for you. He’d enjoyed you for this long in his life that any second it could be taken away. His heart was the one thing he was willing to take a risk on because he only found solace with you. It was all the little moments that added up and floated to his mind, that ended up making him come to the conclusion.

The night he first met you, you were having drinks in the Scarfes bar in London with Ada and mutual acquaintances. The group of you talking about an upcoming weekend trip you were planning to take and the woes of university life a second time through. You were yourself the whole evening, even when he came to disrupt the conversation stealing Ada away to talk quick business. As he watched you interact with his sister and your group of friends for the remainder of the evening, he noticed the confidence that rolled off your shoulders, the laughter that left your mouth, and the way you said a simple goodnight to him on the way out the building.

He knew he had to meet you again. It wasn’t hard when he would drop by Ada’s unexpectedly or find a way to sit next to you when the lot of them went out to drink at the Garrison or Bars in London. He learned little things about you observing you through those conversations. How sometimes you would sit quiet and observe the conversation from time to time. When you spoke, you spoke with purpose. You weren’t afraid to speak your mind either.

You played hard to get, like a game of cat and mouse. You were stubborn and strong-willed. When he first asked out you, you were shocked to say the least. You knew about the legitimate parts of his business, only hearing tall tales of the rest, but it didn’t make you not believe the underground side, but cautioned it. You heard rumors of his reputation of him screwing women over just to get what he wanted and the hotel he would go to get his sexual desires met.

Those should have been red flags, but on the other side he was a high esteem family business man and OBE. You couldn’t deny how good looking he was and the chemistry you felt between your small encounters. You denied him the first two times as you were a busy graduate student and worked part time. You were also still heartbroken from your last long-term relationship, not looking to start up something new. Tommy Shelby was relentless, never taking no for an answer. It was on the third try that you said yes to him, promising him one date. To not mess it up.

The first date was smooth. He invited you to his cozy London apartment. Where you were served Spaghetti Bolognese and warm toasted garlic bread. He drank Whiskey, you red wine. Frank Sinatra playing through his record player. You shared tidbits about your childhood and university years. He shared about the hard questions you asked him about his business, wanting to hear what you thought you knew. He shared appropriately (not dishing family business or current dealings), finding it amusing. You asked what he did for fun, to which he responded with work. Both you letting out a chuckle. The conversation flowed so easily between the two of you. He drove you home a quarter to midnight and kissed you goodnight.

He was hooked by the third date, things taking off slow as you were both busy people. Both working hard to achieve the goals you wanted to accomplish in this life. Both struggling with trust issues and hang-ups from past relationships or lack thereof on his end. Those first couple of months was blissful, being in the depths of the honeymoon phase.

At six months you had officially met all his family and closest mates. They adored you and were fond of your relationship with him, noticing the small change in him, that they hadn’t seen since he’d been back from the war. He would make space for you in his office to complete your studies and you’d make room in your apartment for him to relax on the odd weekend off with reading in your living room, breakfast in bed, or cuddling in the morning after a passionate night together.

You were nervous for him to meet your family as they were more traditional than his. He charms your mother as soon as he steps foot in your house. Feeding in charmingly to her mannerisms and jokes. Your father was harder to crack. You knew your father would give him a hard time. Your father played up to the best of his ability in front of your mother, but your father asked to speak to him in private. Where they discussed his business, your safety, and the seriousness of the relationship because if it was to be a waste of time, he should just cut the losses now. Thomas reassured your father well. When you asked what the two of them discussed, he simply said, “Nothing for your pretty little head to worry about.” You left it at that.

He knew deep down for a long time, that he loved you, afraid to say those words, even though he knew five months in.

It was eight months in on a quiet afternoon spent in your apartment. He was doing book-work at the table, collecting a stock pile of smokes in his ashtray, letting out stressful grumbles of frustration, every now and again. You were reading on the couch, sometimes sneaking small glances at him but eventually becoming restless from the silence and being indoors all day. You decided to make both of you a tea and as you sipped your tea across from him at the kitchen table, you spoke those words out into the open. You watched as his pen stopped writing, his eyes coming to meet yours. You could see the smirk on his lips and the light blush that caught his cheeks.

“Cat got your tongue, Mr.Shelby.” You teased, as you both finished the rest of your teas in silence. He lit another cigarette, knowing that you didn’t need him to voice it aloud, as you knew in your heart through the little things he did. As you stood to get up to clean the empty dishes and empty his tray, he rose to stand in front of you. Hands grabbing your biceps, warm breath coming to your ear.

“I love you too, (Y/N).” He whispered, removing his right hand to clasp against the back of your head, deciding to connect his warm lips to yours. Moving slow, delicate, and in sync. He pulls apart, the small smack of wet lips, leaving you both panting. He goes to his seat at the table to finish the final paperwork, not missing the tint in your cheeks and the lasting grin for the remainder of the evening.

After a year together you still had to watch out for Lizzie, which at first did turn into a heated argument between you and him. Due to your jealousy and slight insecurity that would feed off her jealousy toward you. They had a past together, one neither of you could deny, evening knowing he didn’t treat her the greatest in that regard. The way she would sometimes pine after him, would make your blood boil, knowing it kinda fed his ego. He would love to get you ramped up to have hot heated sex. Where he would remind you you were the only one he loved and was sleeping with.

This was an underlying “game” of the relationship, one you both fed on. Tommy being possessive of what was his and being silently jealous of men who would be fixated or try to flirt with you, some even right in front of his face. He would use his words to defend you or if you were oblivious, he would give you the silent treatment, which would annoy you to no end. If you started it which on occasion you did, (he could tell), you would enjoy being at his mercy as soon as you walked through the doors him fucking you hard until the early morning hours.

Other times, with other women, who were enamored by him, he would wash those fears away by reminding you, you were the one he would seek in the middle of the night to hold him close to sleep, the only thing on his mind during a long day, and the one he loved.

You started helping him once a week at the company, with the books as you had an eye for crunching numbers and were detail oriented a bit more than a few others in the office. It made some of his work go faster when you were in the office, only handling the legal side of things, not wanting to involve you with the other half that came with it. That didn’t last much longer.

Year and half you were slowly beginning to see more of the other side of the business. You knew he was in the middle of something, when you started to notice him coming home more often in bloody clothing, late mid-morning hours. He would sneak inside quietly as possible, thinking you were asleep, but you weren’t. You’d hear the shower running for a while for him to slip in next to you in bed. One night you would ask, if things were getting bad in his dealings. He would answer truthfully but not about whom he was dealing with. You started finishing up university with a security guard that would escort you wherever you went. He taught you how to shoot a gun which you only encased in your bedside table, for emergency use. You learned to only ask questions when need be and to try to worry less, enough though you both knew it wasn’t possible.

On that unexpected day, everything almost came to a screeching halt. He was in the middle of a battle with Sabini. He told you to make sure you were with security at all times and that he made sure there was someone outside your place at all times. It was in the middle of the night that you heard the scuffle and then a bang, but it was too late as another person came breaking into your bedroom, screaming for you to get out of the bed. You didn’t have time to react before he was shoving a gun in your face, telling you to be quiet, as they rushed out to the getaway car. Your eyes not missing the pool of blood you found your security guard in. They blind folded you and you remained silent the whole way as they made a call to their boss, who organized this whole ordeal, letting him know you were in transport.

When you got to the basement where they were holding you, they tied your legs and arms to a chair. It smelt musky down below and it was loud. They spit on, mocked, and slapped you around, all to send a message. You tried your best to stay calm, knowing Tommy would find you.

“He’s here, get ready.” You heard one of the men say. The next you knew they were moving you to another room, leaving you in the dark. Then there were gunshots firing off and loads of yelling. Then to be met with silence. It felt like forever until you heard that familiar voice again.

“I’m right here (Y/N), I’m right here.” He reassures as he frees your arms and legs from the chair, to then take the blindfold off. You collapse into his arms sobbing, as he carries you to the back seat of his car, making sure you don’t see any of the bloodshed.

When you arrive at his home, you’re in a state of shock and silent. He has the maids begin a bath and after your bath, he has the doctor check you out. The doctor bandages you and gives you something to help you fall asleep.

The next couple of weeks were rough, not only for you but for your relationship. You told Tommy everything that happened when you woke up the next day, while he held you in his arms. Both of you teary together. You stayed at his place for a couple of days, as he made sure to do damage control in the media and town, and clean your apartment back to normal.

During the night you were plagued with nightmares about your security guard and the men roughing you up, with Tommy never actually coming to save you or ending with you dying. A week after the incident you went to the security guard’s funeral. After that, you were beginning to push Tommy away, telling him you needed space.

Your mind trying to make sense of the madness, grappling with those hard questions, while trying to stay on top of your coursework. You didn’t want to see anyone really, even avoiding your own parents for weeks on end. The only place you would willingly go would be to uni and a few counseling sessions, just to get yourself back on track, which did end up helping you.

The only Shelby you spoke to during this time was Ada, periodically. You two were friends from the start and grew even closer due to your relationship with Tommy. She wouldn’t talk about him unless you brought him up, which wasn’t much. You both knew he was just as much a mess as you were, but both dealing with it in different manners. She helped you in a different way of opening up your frustrations, worries, and fears.

Tommy tried his hardest not to be a mess during this time but it was hard. He drove himself harder into his company and would spend his nights drinking. He knew you were okay, as could be, as he still kept tabs on you. For the first month he would leave you voicemails, some sober, some drunk of the inner workings of his mind and heart, but he really did miss you. You listened to them, wanting nothing more than to pick up the phone and call him.

Then the next month, you left him a voicemail, asking him for more time. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you told him at the end of the month, you would give him a final answer. You loved him, missed him, and wanted to see him just as bad.

There was this small voice in your head that was telling you cut your losses, to go your separate ways. You knew you had to make a hard decision and a decision you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

It was on the third month, when you both met again, at a little cafe by the Thames river. When you saw him, it almost felt like it was the first time all over again. You sat down taking in his appearance. He was wearing his glasses and was in casual clothing. He looked good for the most part, expect for the bags under his eyes, knowing you were part of the reason for them.

“Thank you for meeting me here.” You sent a small smile his way, as the waiter arrived with tea and your favorite pastry. Heart warming that he still cared to remember.

“So, what are we doing here (Y/N)?” His voice is cold, as he lights his smoke.

“I.. um, I just wanted to talk, to explain myself, as i’ve made a decision.” You plead, staring into his hard eyes.

“You had these past two months to talk, to explain yourself. Now we’re here having tea waiting for you to share this decision you have come to. So let’s just get on with it eh!” You just sip your tea, not allowing his harshness to roll over you, knowing you slightly deserved it, but also he was masking his hurt on the one person that really did hurt his heart.

“Gosh, Tommy you’re such a dick!” You growl, before continuing. “At the end of the day I still want to be with you. I still love you.” You stare at his face, watching how his demeanor changes. He slightly softens out, but is still a bit in this guardish state.

“Are you sure you know about this? What about if something happens to you again?”

“Yes, I promise. These past two months haven't been easy. I’ve missed you and there wasn’t a day I didn't think about you. I needed to take care of myself and get my mind straight, to really think about if this life that you live is what I wanted. I don’t know what to do with the what if’s, but I know you will do anything to protect me. You saved me, that day.” You reach your hand into his calloused one, missing his touch.

“I know they haven’t been easy. I’m sorry you had to go through all this. I’ve missed you just as much. I know I did save you love. I would do it a thousand times again.” He squeezes your hand gently before going to finish his second cup of tea. The both you sitting in silence enjoying the moment and looking out over the river.

“Okay.” He speaks out of the blue, catching your attention, from the children running around on the sidewalk.

“Okay what, Mr.Shelby.” You tease gently, as he pulls your chair out for you, helping you put on your winter coat and beanie.

“I love you (Y/N). Thank you.” His warm hands cup your soft cheeks, the pads of his thumbs, rubbing tiny circles on the skin under your eyes. His blue eyes gazing lovingly into yours as he seals your lips together, that somehow mends all the broken pieces together in the both of you. This was a chance to move forward. You ended up spending the night at his house, waking up with him by your side in the morning. Things weren’t magically better but were still things to work on, but it was worth it.

Two years in you bought your first house together out in the country in Birmingham. You graduate college yet again with your master’s, getting a full time job in your field. Your job also helps in building connections with the company. The company was on a bit of a slow period, as Tommy was working on new ventures.

After attending a few engagement parties, weddings, baby showers, and listening to yet another marriage conversation you were having with your mum, unintentionally, he knew you were slowly becoming antsy. Even though you tried not to show it, but once in a while would drop subtle hints about the subject. He already knew that morning he woke up after the Thames River day, that he wanted to marry you because he couldn’t think of the thought of you slipping through his fingers again.

He knew it was finally time to ask for your hand in marriage, but first he had to speak with your father, who was still trying to forgive him, from the incident that occurred. Your father had also grown to see him, like a son. Though neither would say or admit it aloud.

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

Text

lets talk business {Finn Shelby x Reader}

Words: 9.4k

Summary: Polly Gray comes to you looking for a good business deal. It’s only luck that makes her bring Finn Shelby along with her.

Genre: fluff ??????????????

Warning: swearing

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions!

---

“Polly fucking Gray.”

The woman smiles. Sharp, all cheekbones. She somehow manages to keep her lips pursed, illuminating the mischievous glint in her eyes that much more.

Part of you still cannot believe she is sitting in front of you; the woman herself, one of the leading cronies of the Peaky Blinders, one of the most feared people in all of England. She’s certainly got an air to her, one you can’t dismiss as you sit on the other side of the table, hands folded on the wood, heart thumping no matter how calm you may look on the outside.

You’ve trained yourself to deal with people like her - people who think they can come into your office and twist your arm whatever way they want. Men, women, gangster wanna-be’s - you’ve dealt with all of them, and you have no intentions of letting Polly Gray be any exception to the harsh realities of your business.

She leans back in her seat, tapping her fingers against the edge of the desk; she has been in here for two minutes already and has not said a single word.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask.

Polly tilts her head to the side, examining you in the way only a Shelby really can. “I’m here to talk business, Y/N. Don’t waste my time.”

“I’m not the one who’s been sat in silence since I walked in.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself.”

You raise a brow. “No? Maybe that’s why you and your little motley crew have been dropping like flies recently - bad communication can have detrimental effects on a business.”

Polly pauses. It’s brief, barely noticeable unless you’re paying extra close attention. “Is that what you think the Peaky Blinders are? A business?”

“No more than I am, love.”

“If I were you, I’d get that out of my head as soon as possible.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you threatening me already? We haven’t even got to the good stuff yet.”

Polly slaps her hand against the desk. Globes and glasses rattle, only the security of your expensive storage units keeping them from shattering. Polly’s nostrils flare, her eyes glaring into your own - but you do not look away.

You just smile, tapping the little pile of papers to your left. “I’ve got all the details you want right here, Miss Gray. Feel free to start being polite at any time. I’ve got all day for you, love.”

Polly growls, slowly sitting back. “How many guns can you provide us in a fortnight?”

“How many do you need?”

“As many as you can get.”

You hum thoughtfully, despite already knowing the answer. Keeping her on her toes is a goal, a way to make sure she is aware that you are in charge right now, that you will not be taking orders from her just because everyone else is so willing to trail in her wake.

Polly inhales deeply, clearly trying to calm herself down. “I haven’t got all day, Y/N.”

“Let’s put this into perspective,” you reply, resting your elbows on the desk. “My people collect shipments from all over the fucking world, Polly. We get deliveries of twenty to thirty assault weapons every single day - at most, I can get you over four hundred guns in two weeks; it won’t be subtle, and you’ll need to have a hiding place ready for them before the first shipment, but we can do it.”

Polly’s eyes glisten. “Over four hundred?”

“If the money’s right on your end.” Her smile fades. You shrug, tapping your fingertips together. “This is an expensive world we’re living in, Miss Gray, and you are dealing with some very expensive business. You gather the funds, we’ll gather the guns. That’s the only way this is going to work.”

Polly tilts her head to the side, lips still pursed like there is forever something sour playing on her tongue. “I don’t think you understand who you’re making business with right now.”

You smile. “No. I understand just fine - I just don’t give a fuck. You people don’t scare me. I’ve got wages to pay, love. This isn’t a game.”

It takes a minute - perhaps a minute too long, but Polly eventually smiles. It’s small, barely there unless you’re looking for it. With her head still tilted, brown curls resting on her shoulder, she nods and says, “Fair enough. We can get the first payment to you before the end of the night, but we expect them four hundred guns in fourteen days. Or else consequences will be dire.”

“Oh, I know, Miss Gray. I’ve heard all about you and the Shelby boys.”

You’re not lying - it would be impossible to live on this side of town and not know who the Shelby boys are, the things they do to people who don’t follow their plans meticulously. You have no intentions of falling into that category - but that doesn’t mean you’re going to let them walk all over you, either.

----

The docks are cold this time of day, but the police are nowhere to be found.

Early morning starts are not high on the laws agenda, apparently, which is why you find yourself half-awake, bundled in layers upon layers of clothes, standing beside the boats currently delivering the guns you requested - the guns for Polly Gray.

It’s not like you to be there when the deliveries come in - you deal with the issues behind the scenes, often staying locked up in the dark office, sifting through papers and complaints, getting rid of people who have a bit too much to say about the way your business is run.

But Polly Gray is more than just a normal client. She’s Polly fucking Gray, someone you need to please or else face a wrath unlike any other. So, you dragged yourself from your bed at four this morning, and now stand by the boats, watching the crates of weaponry get dragged from their decks.

Fingers graze your elbow. You tilt your head to the side, a silent request for the stranger to talk.

“Someone is here to see you,” an Irish accent says. You turn, first catching sight of Mr Luther Murdock, one of the few men in the world whom you trust with your life.

Standing behind him, however, is someone you most certainly did not expect to see this morning.

Finn Shelby is a tall man - a tall boy? - with the slicked back, half-shaved hair of the Shelby clan. He wears an expensive suit, consisting of only three layers, and you silently wonder how he isn’t shivering right now. But he isn’t, instead standing tall and bold amongst the dust and grime of an early morning business delivery.

You turn fully, folding your arms over your chest. “Finn Shelby. What a surprise. Has your aunt had my name in her mouth again?”

Finn shoves his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks, too busy examining everything going on around him - you realise he doesn’t get out much, not as often as his brothers, anyway. This side of things must be so new to him, so bizarre. You nearly laugh in his face - his brothers go out murdering people every single day, but the idea of someone importing guns into Birmingham is what intrigues him.

“Yes,” you continue when he doesn’t respond to your previous jab. “This is where all the magic happens. See that crate over there?” You point to a wooden box being hauled from a boat onto the platform. “That’s for you and your shit-stain family.”

Finn smiles. “Is it now.”

“The money was given to us quite promptly, I will admit. I thought for sure you would have just threatened us till we did what you wanted.”

“We don’t work like that.”

“No? So where have all the big bad tales come from then?”

Finn’s mouth twists. Still, his eyes do not meet your own, giving you plenty of time to smile to yourself. Finn is certainly one of the easier ones to mess with, if just because he’s lived in his brothers’ shadows for as long as he’s been able to walk. He doesn’t have the same confidence, the same quick-wit that the other Shelbys have.

It’s kind of sad, really.

You stare at him a moment longer, waiting for him to continue the conversation, perhaps offer up an explanation as to why he’s here in the first place. Most of the time, people make their orders and just leave you to get on with it - it’s very rare someone actually comes down to view the process.

Finally, Finn sighs, and for the first time since you acknowledged his presence, his eyes snap to your own. “This is an interesting little set-up you’ve got here.”

“It’s not so much interesting as it is cautious.”

“Is that why you’re here so early?”

You shrug. “Don’t get it twisted, Shelby. You won’t find me down here at this time every day - I just wanted to make sure my people were doing the job right for you and your people, yeah.”

Finn hums. “Nice of you. Considering you’re a twat.”

“Now who gave you that impression?”

Finn tilts his head, examining you for longer than strictly necessary. His gaze makes you uncomfortable, being dragged forth to the point where you have to look away and change the topic; maybe that’s where his skills lie. John, Arthur and Tommy carry the guns for intimidation, but all Finn needs is his expression.

You turn and start walking along the docks, giving Luther a thankful nod that reads go away. Finn follows close behind you, polished heels clicking against the rough wood.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’ve really come here today?”

“I overheard Polly talking about her inquiry.”

You raise a brow, glancing over your shoulder. Finn catches your eye, smiles sheepishly.

“You really made her angry.”

You shrug. “It’s business. It’s what we do. If your aunt can’t take that, then maybe she isn’t as tough she likes to make herself out to be.”

Finn pauses. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“It’s true what they say, Shelby - being tough doesn’t just come from violence. You might be able to shoot a gun and kill people without blinking, but if you can’t handle a little tough criticism, then how strong can you really be?”

Finn doesn’t respond. You think you might have hit a sore point for him.

Barrelling on, you say, “You overheard Dear Pol talking about me. Then what? Your interest was piqued?”

“I wanted to see what made you so special.”

You very nearly freeze on the spot. Instead, you catch yourself, glancing at him yet again. “She said I was special?”

“She said you were a lot of things,” Finn replies. “But we have our own people when we want weaponry - I want to know why she came to you this time. You, of all people. Basically the same age as me-”

“You’re older.”

Finn tilts his head. “I guess I just want to know how you fucked your life up so bad that you’ve ended up on this side of things so early on.”

Your mouth fills with cotton. You swallow thickly, turning back to the path in front - around you, people are bustling back and forth, bowing their heads, giving you tiny little “Hello’s” that are meant to sound pleasant but honestly just reek of fear. You are surrounded by grown men who want nothing more than to impress you, to place themselves in your good books because they know what will happen to them if they somehow find themselves upon the alternative.

You never would have thought such a reaction a bad thing, but now that Finn has spoken, it does seem a bit weird. You’re successful, rolling in money you honestly don’t deserve, but what does it all mean if you have people terrified of you?

Finn picks up his pace, strolling alongside you now. His shoulder clips with yours, and it takes everything in you not to turn around and shove him into the harbour.

“I’ve never met someone like me before,” he says.

“You haven’t yet. We’re nothing alike.”

“No?”

“I don’t fancy being compared to a Shelby.”

“Mm. See, I might be wrong, then. Us Shelby’s can admit when something’s true - clearly you can’t.”

You grit your teeth, balling your hands into fists. “Do you want these guns or not, Finn? Because if you carry on the way you are now, I’ll cancel everything. You can take your fucking money back.”

“You think you have that kind of power?”

You whirl around so abruptly, Finn nearly crashes into you. “You think I don’t? Are you forgetting whose business this is? Are you forgetting who’s in charge?”

Finn steps back. He doesn’t look scared, but he doesn’t look unprovoked, either; slightly widened eyes, a swift swipe of his tongue across his lower lip that proves to you this is not the reaction he was expecting. People from all over the world will drop to their knees to see to every Shelby boys wish and desire - clearly this is what Finn wants from you, as well.

“If you came here just to spew your bullshit superiority complex, I don’t want to fucking hear it. Unlike you, I have work to do, shit to get done.” You turn, calling out to a nearby dock worker. “Oi! Mate, take this little prick back to wherever the fuck he came from.”

The dock worker scrambles forward, bending to your every wish.

Turning back to Finn, you give him a sarcastic smile. Again, he swipes his tongue along his lower lip.

“Have a safe journey home,” you say. “Maybe you can find a dark alley somewhere to go fuck yourself.”

----

“So I fucked that up pretty badly.”

Arthur takes a long drag of his cigarette, cold eyes set in a wrinkled face running the length of Finn Shelby as the two brothers sit across from each other in The Garrison.

Finn doesn’t want to be here. Finn wants to be back in bed, cuddled up under a warm blanket after the early morning he was subject to today. He argues the early morning was entirely against his will, but even he isn’t delusional enough to believe such a thing - the moment he heard you were doing business with his family, he knew he needed to see you.

And it has been a long time since you and Finn Shelby last spoke; taking from the conversation you two had this morning, he can only assume you don’t really remember your last meeting at all. The smiles, the laughter, the getting-to-know-each other. Today, you spoke to him like he was a complete stranger, and Finn doesn’t know if you’re just trying to protect yourself, or if you really do not remember him.

Arthur sighs in that heavy way Arthur always does. He has one hand perched on his knee, the other holding his sixth lit cigarette. “I expected nothing less from you, brother. Absolutely nothing less.”

“I don’t get it,” Finn grumbles. “I don’t even know where I slipped up.”

“Sometimes it’s best to just move on. If the devil’s not interested in you, then that’s how it is.”

Finn scowls; it’s become a habit of his to agree with everything his older brothers say, but this is something he can’t get on board with. You’ve changed, yes, but it’s not really in a bad way - you’ve become stronger, more in-tune with your surroundings. It’s a big difference from the timid business-oriented person you were before, sitting behind a mahogany desk, taking shit from anyone and everyone.

Part of Finn is happy you’ve grown a backbone. Another, more selfish part of him just wants you easy to bend again.

He sighs and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Fuck me, man.”

“Right,” Arthur replies, slapping the table. “How about this, Finny-boy. A whore for the night. I’ll pay for her, don’t you worry, but you clearly need something to get your mind off this Y/N person you’re on about.”

Finn flicks his eyes up. “Stop pretending you don’t know who they are.”

Arthur shrugs, slumping back in the booth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, blows the smoke directly into Finn’s face. “Polly’s been raving on about them for a good week and a half now. Sounds like a right handful.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a bit rich coming from a fucker like you.”

Arthur grins. “I never said it’s a bad thing. I just don’t know if a handful is the type you should be focusing on.”

Finn raises a brow. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well.” Arthur trails his eyes along Finn’s form, and Finn already knows exactly what his brother is going to say. “You’re not exactly the sturdiest little bastard in Birmingham, are you? Y/N will be trailing you through the streets by the bollocks if this turns into anything.”

Despite himself, Finn’s cheeks heat up. He looks down, scratching a few lines into the table; Arthur is wrong, of course. Finn can hold himself just as well as any of them, and he’s not about to let some sketchy business-owner boss him around. Yes, he has fond memories of you, but at the end of the day, you’re a different person now. You’re Finn’s rival. He has to remember that.

He looks back up. Arthur is already staring at him, amused smile appearing beneath his bushy moustache. “Promise me you won’t tell Tommy anything about Y/N.”

Arthur scoffs. “Tommy already knows about Y/N, you stupid twat. Even without Pol ranting about them every two seconds, Thomas Shelby knows everything.”

“Y/N might be a bit different.”

“Oh, give it a rest, lad. None of this they’re special bullshit - Tommy knows all about them, and listen to me when I tell you this.” Arthur leans in, lowering his voice despite the privacy of the booth they’re seated in. “He’s got them and their little business high on his radar.”

---

Finn isn’t someone you would ever call a friend.

Especially not now.

Once upon a time, perhaps you could classify him as a fascination - but all the Shelby’s were a fascination when you lived in Birmingham - especially Small Heath. Their names were once plastered everywhere until Thomas Shelby started getting a little too big for hit boots. The mans wife died, and he went downhill from there. People stopped respecting them as much; people had less fear; the streets of Birmingham became less of a risk, because people saw that the Shelby clan could be brought down if the need arose.

Finn, however, was one of the only Shelby boys you ever had any direct contact with. Brief, barely memorable, but it happened, and you remember it better than you are willing to admit.

You sit in your office now, the only light coming from the lantern lit on the desk beside you. The door is closed, but you can still hear the bustle outside it, employees yelling at each other, people falling over one another in their attempts to get the heaps upon heaps of work finished in time.

You should be helping them. Usually, you would be out there, making sure your business stays on it’s toes, but seeing Finn today has done something to you that you can’t quite explain - rattled you, maybe. Thrown you off guard. His visit was certainly unexpected, but you’re usually so good at pulling yourself together when you need to.

You tug your knees into your chest, leaning your forehead against them. Through the door, someone cries out, another person telling them to suck it up. You close your eyes, try to catch your breath before you really do sink into the territory of absolutely insane.

You want to drift off to sleep. You want to close your eyes and not resurface until all of this drama has been cleared up, until the Shelby’s are out of your life for good. Only then will you be able to focus solely on the work in front of you.

A knock sounds at the door. You bite your lower lip, resisting the urge to yell at the guest to just fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, it’s too late for this, you don’t have the mental capacity-

“Come in!”

The door creaks open. Heels thump against the carpet. The smell of expensive perfume fills the room. You know exactly who has just entered.

Slowly lifting your head, you are greeted by Polly Gray. She’s wearing an expensive striped suit, and standing behind her is her young son, Mr Michael Gray, dressed in a simple grey suit with his hair slicked back. Compared to the last time you saw him, he’s certainly broadened out.

“I see you got your custody back.”

Polly’s nostrils flare. “It’s like you’re running some kind of zoo out there.” She plucks a cigarette from your desk and sits down, gesturing for her son to do the same. Without invitation, the two Gray’s get comfortable, Polly propping one knee up against the arm rest of her seat, lighting a cigarette at the same time. Michael’s beady little eyes are dancing around in search of alcohol.

You slump against your own seat, sighing. “I’m tired, Polly. Tonight is not the night to talk to me about business.”

“Ah, see, that’s not acceptable,” she replies, pointing her cigarette at you. “When you’re working with me, love, you have to be on call at all times.”

“And when you’re working with me, you need to have a bit of fucking trust.”

Her eyes snap up, narrowing. “Beg your pardon?”

“Don’t play dumb, Pol. It’s really not a good look on you.”

Polly slowly leans forward. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sending Finn to come check on me this morning was unnecessary.” You pluck the cigarette from her fingers, taking a drag of your own. “My people know what they’re doing. Plus, Finn Shelby is hardly a decent fear tactic - I could snap that boy in two if I wanted.”

Michael and Polly fall silent, and for a second, you second-guess your sentence choice - did you just make yourself sound stupid? Either way, the pair share a confused glance before Michael leans his elbows on the mahogany and says, “Finn visited you this morning?”

You freeze. “At around five am, yeah.”

Polly snickers, a noise that would infuriate you if it came from anyone else. From Polly, however, it just captures your attention, and suddenly you’re awake again.

“You didn’t send him?” you question.

“We don’t send Finn to do anything,” Polly says. “And this is exactly why. He gets infatuated. He’s not like his brothers, dear - he isn’t completely heartless.”

You blink, unsure what she means. She’s still smiling, still staring like she’s waiting for you to catch on, too.

You lean back, folding your arms over your chest. “None of your business dealings have to do with Finn. Keep him out of it.”

“We never dragged him into it in the first place,” says Michael. He, too, is grinning, though he has the decency to hide it behind his whiskey glass. “That’s all on Finn, I’m afraid, and who are we to tell him to back off?”

You scowl. “You Shelby’s really enjoy walking on thin ice, don’t you?”

“You said it yourself, love,” says Polly. “Finn has nothing to do with our business dealings, meaning his actions have no connection to what we’ve got going on. If you were to cancel all of this because of him, you’re going against your own quote.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that she’s got your arm twisted behind your back, hate that she has even the tiniest bit of control over you and your decisions. But she’s paid you already. The first delivery of guns has already been set up, already been stored away for later use - taking everything back now would just be a hassle.

Plus, it would be giving Finn the control he clearly wants, and you can’t have that.

Because why else would he come and see you? Why else would he want an insight into your business process?

When you fail to reply, Polly sighs, an almost dreamy sound clearly meant to infuriate you. You look at her through the tops of your eyes, watching as she snatches the glass of whiskey from her sons hand and takes a sip for herself. Michael doesn’t even flinch, just folds his arms over his chest and continues watching you like a predator watching prey.

“I only came here for an update on my guns,” says Polly. “But I’ve received something much, much more interesting.”

“Your boy is an idiot,” you snap. “If he thinks he’s getting anything out of me-”

“Finn isn’t one to care for family business.” Polly grins, tilting her head to the side; it’s that look she’s famous for, the one that makes anyone feel ten times smaller. “If he came to visit you, it wasn’t for business of any sort. I’d maybe ask him what he wants next time you see him.”

Michael smiles, a dimple popping on his left cheek. “Cute.”

“Go to hell,” you spit.

Polly chuckles, placing a hand on Michaels arm. Together, the two of them rise from their seats and start towards the door; they didn’t even get their update, but they both look smugly content, like they’ve gotten exactly what they came for.

You hug your knees closer to your chest, fully aware that the pose makes you look cowardly, but you don’t care right now. You watch them leave, Polly giving you the smallest wave over her shoulder before her and her son disappear through the door; outside, the halls get quiet. You can hear the back door slam shut before the hustle and bustle of business life starts back up again.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall to your knees again; you’re exhausted, even more confused than you were when you first laid eyes on Finn this morning, and quite frankly, in no fit shape to be dealing with the Shelbys’ bullshit.

---

“Look, there’s nothing we can do. One of the orders went missing, and we can’t find a way to get it back.”

“Great. Fucking fantastic! This is exactly what we wanted today, eh?”

Luther lowers his head, blonde hair falling in his eyes; he’s trying to hide his shame, but you see right through him. There’s horror there, an acceptance of the punishment he and the entire team will be receiving from the Peaky Blinders if this deal does not go to plan.

You run your hands through your hair. “How does an entire order of guns go missing?”

“My best bet is it was stolen,” says Luther. “Going through all them borders, it’s not far-fetched to imagine someone with sticky fingers getting their hands on it.”

“Yeah, well, they’ll think twice when I cut off those fucking sticky fingers.”

“And who are you threatening?”

No.

This is the last thing you need, the absolute last thing you need. You whirl around nonetheless, like Finn is a magnet you are drawn to - and there he stands, tall and lanky and gorgeous but so, so smug and annoying that it nearly makes you want to rip your hair out.

You grit your teeth, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Who let you through?”

Finn grins, striding forward. He examines the crates on his way towards you, stopping only when he is centimetres away from exactly where you are stood. “No one needs to let me through. You’ve got some loyal people here, Y/N, but you’re forgetting the Peaky Blinders run Birmingham.”

“So the rumours say.”

“You never answered my question, though - who are you threatening?”

He’s going to find out eventually. In a weeks time when he and his family are receiving their order of guns and they are an entire crate short, he’s going to know exactly what happened.

You glance up at him, and you feel something break inside you. You can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but you’ve felt it before, tried fighting it off so many times. It’s linked to those blue eyes, blood-shot with exhaustion and years of seeing things no man should ever have to see. It’s linked to the way he stands, so close you can feel his warmth radiating off them stupidly expensive suits he has the honour of wearing every single day. It’s linked to the tilt of his head, the small smile that seems to only appear when he’s taking the piss out of you.

You look back to the ground, shoving these thoughts aside enough to say, “One of our orders went missing during delivery and we can’t get it back.”

The admission is like a blow to the chest, even though it shouldn’t be - it was a simple mistake, one you had no control over. But it’s a mistake that shouldn’t have been in place, a mistake you’ve never made before, a mistake that is linked to Polly fucking Gray.

Finn pauses for a brief moment. Looking up, you notice his eyes are no longer trained on you, but on a spot just by your head. His lower lip jults out, and if you listen close enough, you can make out the sound of him humming.

“Polly isn’t gonna be too happy about that,” he says finally.

You fold your arms over your chest. “No. I don’t think she will.”

“That’s not very good, is it?”

You glare. “Fuck off, Finn.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. The move surprises you, considering it’s the most emotion you’ve ever seen a Shelby display in a sober state; it’s nice, but you curse the warmth that immediately spreads to your chest. It forces you to take a step back, just for safety.

“Right, what are we gonna do about this, then?” he says, lowering his head to glance at the crates. “I’ve got a few orders I can probably spare - throw a couple onto the pile.”

You blink, not entirely positive you’ve heard him right.

He looks down, raising a brow at your silence. “What?”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Isaiah and I have more guns than we can store. We can toss a few onto your shitty little pile-”

“Watch your mouth.”

“And then you’ll have nothing to worry about. What do you say?”

“There’s a catch.”

“No there isn’t.”

“I’m not stupid, Finn.” You take another step back, very nearly tripping over a worker bustling past. “I know your family. You don’t do things for others unless you want something in return.”

Finn scowls, folding his arms over his chest. “Why does everyone just assume me and my family have the exact same personalities? We’re different people, you know, and I just so happen to be willing to help you without getting anything back.”

This is something you can’t even fully wrap your head around - he’s Finn Shelby. He’s a Peaky Blinder. Him and generosity do not - and will not - go hand in hand.

Finn groans, tilting his head and closing his eyes. “Do you want the offer or not? ‘Cause I can just go back to The Garrison and tell Polly you’re-”

“Let me see what you’ve got.”

His eyes flick open. That smile starts again. “Of course. Follow me.”

And that’s how you end up alone with Finn Shelby, standing in a freezing cold storage locker, surrounded by more crates of guns than your maths skills allow you to count.

Wrapping your arms around your middle, you say, “Holy fuck,” because that honestly seems like the only decent response you can give to a sight like this.

Finn slips his blazer off, drops it casually over your shoulders before he strides forward and starts unclipping the lids of the crates. “Yeah, it’s quite a lot. We got carried away when the Russians were around.”

“Right. Russians.”

He jumps up, balancing one foot on the edge of a crate as he looks inside and rummages through what can only be a great, great number of guns. They scrape against each other, and you can imagine the scratches currently infesting their slick black armour with how badly they’re being handled.

You tug Finn’s blazer tighter around yourself, biting your tongue.

“We’ve got all sorts,” he explains. “Pistols, automatics, semi-automatics, pump actions-”

He tosses a pistol onto the floor.

You yelp. “Finn!”

He glances over his shoulder, a glimmering smile on his face. “I knew that was gonna rile you up.”

You pick up the gun and stuff it in the waistband of your jeans. “You’re such an asshole. Do you know how dangerous it is to go round throwing guns about? What if the safety hadn’t been on?”

“Why wouldn’t the safety be on?” He goes back to rummaging, shaking his head. “Honestly, you think I’m some kind of fucking amateur-”

You groan and stomp forward, grabbing his arm and yanking him down from the crates. He stumbles into your chest, turning to look at you, but you’re already pulling yourself up onto the ledge he was previously stood upon.

“What are you doing?”

“A better fucking job than you, that’s for sure.”

He doesn’t respond, but you hear him chuckle.

The crates are truly what a serial killers dream would be made of - piles upon piles of guns, all sorts of guns, crammed in a single crate. Some of them have the safety gauze on them, whilst some just hang out loosely, a danger to anyone who handles them too roughly - it’s this danger that sends a thrill swirling through your stomach, this danger that prompts you to reach forward and grab one from the box.

Finn tenses. “Careful.”

“A Colt, hm.” You point and aim at the storage room door. “1903 model, yeah?”

“I haven’t looked.”

You nod. “Definitely a 1903 model. Don’t see many of these around nowadays.”

Finn sighs. “Put it down. We’re not here to piss about.”

“I’m not pissing about. I happen to know exactly what I’m doing.”

“I’ve never seen you shoot a gun in your life.”

You scoff. “You haven’t seen me do a lot of things, Finn Shelby.”

Why he is so rattled, you do not know. Usually so calm and laid back, the youngest Shelby now stomps towards you, grabs your wrist-

“Finn! What the fuck?”

You try tugging your hand out of his grip, but his fingers tighten. Your arms are tossed over your head in the quarrel, your own fingers tightening on the trigger, just enough for a bullet to speed into the roof. Concrete crumbles over your head, and you barely have time to yell before Finn’s arms have wrapped round your waist and he’s tugging you to the ground, his broad body thrown on top of your own.

An entire chunk of concrete collapses, landing and smashing on the cold floor, just inches from where you and Finn are currently kneeled.

You pause. Your heart thunders. You can hear nothing but his breath tickling the side of your head, your blood rushing to your ears. The Colt 1903 lays discarded by the crates you have just been thrown from, and Finn’s arm is still on the small of your back when you finally emerge back into reality.

“Finn,” you whisper. There’s dust in your throat, blood on your elbows and knees.

“Yeah?” he whispers back.

“I won’t have to pay for that damage, will I?”

Finn pulls back, hand snaking along your hip as he pushes himself up onto his elbow to take a look at the damage in question. You hear him take a sharp breath, fingers tightening on your hip before he stands up. You follow shortly after, eyes widening as soon as you take a look at what has happened.

“Oh, fuck.”

The cracks in the floor aren’t even the worst bit of it; there’s a chunk taken from the roof, wires and long pieces of wood hanging down. Dust floats through the air, blinding you for seconds at a time until you eventually swat it away. An entire crate of guns has been knocked over, and it’s only by the good grace of God that none of them went off in the collision.

Finn stands to the side, one hand trailing through his hair, the other rubbing absently at his stomach; his lower lip is pulled between his teeth, a clear sign that he has absolutely no idea what to do, that the two of you are more than likely going to be in deep, deep trouble when one of the other Peaky Blinders finds this mess.

“Are you alright?”

You close your eyes. “It’s not really been my day, Finn, so no. I can’t say I am.”

Finn purses his lips. It’s rare for anyone to see a Shelby look awkward, but the way Finn shifts from one foot to the other screams of nothing more than pure, unfiltered ohfuckohfuckohfuck. He runs his hands through his hair, glancing at the damage done to both the roof, the guns and the ground, and it is very clear that he’s already dreading the process of telling his family what has happened.

You know you should do something - anything at all, something to help him out of this dilemma. At the end of the day, you played a part in this mess. You had the gun, had startled Finn enough for him to dive towards you in his fragile attempts to get it off you.

But why was he so worried in the first place?

You hollow out your cheeks, stuffing your hands in your pockets when you say, “I’ll tell Tommy.”

Finn stiffens. “No you won’t.”

“This is my mess to deal with. We wouldn’t even be in here if it wasn’t for me fucking up the order-”

“Tommy will fucking kill you if he thinks you’ve been screwing with his collection.” Finn starts towards the door. “I’ll tell him. You take whatever crate you want and get the fuck out of-”

You spring forward before he can reach the door, grabbing his wrist and twirling him around. His eyes widen slightly, mouth parting as he attempts to get a single protestation in, but you’re quicker. You shove him behind you and dart out the door, hearing nothing but a strangled, “Y/N!” emerge from behind you.

You know where Tommy is; he’s where Tommy always is, hiding away in his office. Despite having not had any communication with the Shelby boy for quite some time, you’ve kept an eye on him and his whereabouts, purely for your own safety. This is why you’re able to make the journey from the docks to his front door in a very short amount of time.

But Finn is also just as quick as you.

He grabs your wrist just seconds before you make to knock upon the massive mahogany door, red paint chipped and crumbling beneath your knuckles. He tugs your arm back, and you stumble directly into his chest.

“You have a fucking death wish,” Finn growls in your ear.

You lean your head against his shoulder, whisper in his ear, “So will you if you don’t let go of me in the next three seconds.”

His fingers loosen just enough for you to pull forward and knock the door. Your heart is thundering; you’re doing this for Finn, and you don’t know why, because he’s never done anything for you, but the thought of him walking into his brothers office and taking the blame for something you played a part in will not let you rest.

The door opens in mere seconds, Francis standing on the other side of it. She raises a brow when she sees you, a sure sign that she’s heard of you before - maybe you’re infamous in the Shelby household, a common name spoken around a candlelit dinner in which Polly Gray has a grand old time talking about how much of a bitch you are.

Nonetheless, you’re not here to find out.

“Morning,” you say, giving the maid a nod. “Can I speak to Thomas please?”

“Y/N, please,” Finn utters as Francis moves out of the way and grants the two of you access to the oversized building - only three people live inside it, but it could honestly be a hotel with how big it is.

You start up the winding staircase, Finn trailing close behind. You don’t answer his muttered plea, too invested in the artwork lining the walls as you climb to the top level - pictures of Grace, drawn in granite yet somehow managing to capture the way her blonde hair used to curl, used to glint and shine with the unnatural light of the Garrison. Pictures of Tommy, sitting with a young boy in his lap and a scowl on his face that somehow manages to look a little more chipper than the scowl he’s usually wearing; perhaps that is him posing, getting ready for a pleasant family picture with his growing son and dead wife.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

The question is out before you can think better of it. You have halted in the middle of the staircase, transfixed on a picture of Grace stood on her own, small smile on her face, hands folded along the top of an empty chair big enough to be a throne.

Finn steps up beside you. “That’s why Tommy liked her so much.”

You risk a glance in his direction. Hands stuffed in his pockets, lip between his teeth, he’s the picture of uncaring. “Did you talk to her much?”

“No.” He looks at you and shrugs. “You know how Tommy is - he doesn’t share stuff like that.”

“He doesn’t share women?”

“He doesn’t share feelings.” Finn gestures to the portrait. “Grace was his whole life for a while. I don’t think he was ready to incorporate us into his whole life.”

You look away, cheeks blazing for a reason you are unsure of - hearing Finn talk like that, perhaps. So open and honest, like he’s talking to someone he can trust. It makes you feel a little guilty, considering you know for a fact Polly will never allow something like. . . that to form between you. She’s already decided she doesn’t like you - there’s no way in hell she’ll have you as part of the family.

Dispelling these thoughts - and the disappointment that comes with them - you slowly start back up the stairs. Once you reach the mahogany doors of Tommy’s office, you risk Finn another glance before knocking, knowing there is no going back after this.

“Come in.”

Finn grabs your arm. “Let me go first.”

“You really think I’m some kind of wimp, don’t you?”

Finn scowls. “Just let me go first and test the air, for fuck sake.”

You bow out of the way, gesturing grandly to the door. “Go ahead then, O’Great Little Bastard.”

Finn kicks you in the ankle before pushing open the door. His broad shoulders cover you, confirmed when Tommy says, “Ah, Finn,” with no mention of you standing behind him.

Finn waltzes into the room, and then Tommy’s eyes land on you.

They’re like ice - you’ve always said that. Piercing and dangerous, holding years worth of stories that look so interesting but too dangerous to hear. He sits with his shoulders drawn back, one hand placed on his forehead and his mouth slightly parted, having clearly not been expecting guests this evening.

Finn shifts, glancing slightly to the side, making sure you’re still there, that Tommy’s gaze hasn’t somehow managed to obliterate you in the past two seconds. You step forward, drawing your own shoulders back when you say, “Mr Shelby.”

Tommy doesn’t respond. He slips his gaze to his youngest brother and tilts his head. “What the fuck have you got yourself involved in now, Finn?”

“Tommy-”

You take another step forward, grabbing Finn’s arm to silence him. “I shot a hole in the roof of one of your storage units.”

There it is. That’s all you needed to say, and yet the words taste like acid when they make an appearance. Thomas - forever the professional at hiding his true emotions - keeps his head tilted, but his eyes are on you now, and that makes it all ten times worse. You held yourself well in front of Polly, but Tommy is a completely different ball-game. He really isn’t all talk. He isn’t one to make a decision and then go back on it - if he’s thinking of your death right now, you will be dying.

Finn lowers his head. “Right, it wasn’t exactly all Y/N’s fault.”

“I’m still waiting for an explanation,” Tommy says calmly.

You look at Finn, and he looks back. There’s a tiny, silent conversation being held that lasts only the space of two seconds before Finn is stepping forward, and you’re yanking his arm trying to get him back, and suddenly the two of you are brawling in the middle of Thomas Shelby’s office.

You’re both trying to explain everything, but the words are mashed and nonsensical because Finn has his elbow in your side and you have one ankle wrapped around his leg. His arm is wrapped around your waist, tightening as he tries to shove you off him.

Tommy slams a stamp against the desk. “Enough!”

You and Finn freeze, your hand bundled in his shirt, his hand wrapped around your middle.

Tommy scowls. “Fuck me, it’s like talking to children.”

You separate quickly, brushing your hands down your clothes. “He was gonna take the blame, ‘cause he’s an idiot.”

“I grabbed your hand!” Finn exclaims. “You wouldn’t have shot the fucking thing if I hadn’t-”

“We wouldn’t have been there in the first place if it weren’t for me!”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Oh, give it a rest, Y/N.”

“Am I wrong?”

“We’re not here to talk about why we were there-”

“Why were you there?”

You close your eyes. You’re a professional, though, and you’ve dealt with issues like this too many times to count. Finn exhales shakily, but you don’t let him take the reigns. You step forward and say, “One of the deliveries for Polly’s order went missing on its way over, so we’re missing an entire crate.”

Tommy pauses. “So you were going into my storage units to - what? Steal?”

“I took them in,” Finn interjects. “Tommy, you know what Polly will do if she finds out her order isn’t exactly what she signed for. She would have killed Y/N and their entire crew in two seconds flat.”

Tommy runs a hand along his face. “And she’s got every bloody right to do that, Finn. You’ve no reason to interject in her business.” Tommy looks up, gestures to you. “Why do you give a shit what happens to them anyway?”

“Have a fucking guess.”

Your breath leaves you in one clean swoop, eyes snapping to take in Finn’s profile; he doesn’t even look tense, simply standing there with his arms swinging and his head tilted. You don’t even know how to properly decipher what he’s just said, but you don’t get a chance to before Tommy is sighing and saying, “Fuck sake, Finn.”

“What?” Finn shoots back. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Not with one of our rivals, it wasn’t!”

“Sorry, Tom, but last time I checked, Grace wasn’t just an innocent little barmaid.”

Tommy stands, knocking the desk with his knees. His hands are balled, jaw clenched, and it’s reflex when you step forward and grab Finn’s arm, tugging him back just that little bit. You want to drag him from the room completely, get him out of harms way, pull him into an empty room and question him on what the fuck is going on right now.

“You’ve got some mouth on you, Finn. I just wanna know where you got it from,” Tommy growls.

And Finn leans forward, not unlike a shark wading through dark water. “Where we all got it from - the Peaky Blinders.”

You expect Tommy to snap - with anyone else, he would have snapped a long time ago. The conversation would have long since been over, but now, the older Shelby glares, and you watch as his eyes soften. It’s so unusual, so unlike the Thomas you know; you take it as a warning, tightening your grip on Finn’s arm.

Tommy’s eyes snap to your own. “I’ll talk to Polly about the missing delivery.”

Your eyes widen. “You will?”

“Stay out of her way for a little bit,” he says. “She’ll need time to cool down, but I won’t let her hurt you. Finn won’t let her hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of Polly,” you reply, because you aren’t, and it feels important to let him know that.

Thomas opens his mouth to respond, to maybe call you stupid for not fearing the woman, but Finn turns before he can get the words out, and suddenly it’s as if Tommy isn’t even in the room. Finn’s eyes meet your own, soft and glazed and exhausted from years of mental torment, but for the first time since you met the man, you can see a tiny hint of humanity within them, a tiny hint of human emotion that he certainly never expressed before.

It’s such a good look on him.

A small smile graces his features. He tilts his head to the side, placing a gentle hand over the top of your own, still clutching the sleeve of his blazer. “I’ll walk you back to the docks.”

You would usually say no, but you can’t right now - you have so many questions, so many missing links that you need joined together for this meeting to make sense. In and out in a heartbeat, even though you’d walked in under the assumption that Tommy was going to happily order your death.

So you and Finn walk out of Tommy’s house, Finn saying a quick goodbye to Charlie before the two of you are once again exposed to the dusty, polluted air of Small Heath. Finn tucks his hands in his pockets, and you dip your chin further into your scarf, neither of you saying a word because neither of you know what to say.

Which is weird considering your brain is a tangled mess of questions right now.

It’s Finn who breaks the silence. “That wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Finn bites his lip, suppressing a smile. “Don’t act stupid.”

You shrug like his words from before meant nothing, like they hadn’t made your heart erupt. “I thought it was pretty well done, to be honest.”

“Yeah?”

“A little unclear, I won’t lie, but I think I got the jidst of it.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

The thing about you and Finn is, both of you are new to this. There is no experience to back up these kinds of feelings, which leaves behind only a vague sense of uncertainty. It’s reaching in the dark. It’s asking for help when neither of you want to give up your pride. It’s wanting to try because this is something new, and the rush from a new experience is what you thrive off.

These are feelings that trigger both your fight and your flight response, and you’re not sure whether you want to flee or stay and see how things turn out.

---

The desk, cluttered.

Your head, sore.

Your fingers, littered with paper cuts.

You slump in your office chair, a single candle lit on the corner of your desk, the only source of light in the room currently with drawn curtains and no lanterns on; you can’t bring yourself to go around turning them on, preferring the dim light for concentration.

The papers in front of you make absolutely no sense, but you can’t just ignore them. It’s your job to make sure everything is in order, whether you understand the details or not.

“Fuck sake,” you whisper to yourself.

The door flings open then, as if your curse summoned someone.

You don’t even have to look up to know who that someone is - Finn Shelby is the only person in the world who would just barge into your office without knocking. He’s the only person in the world who can get away with it.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. You’ll damage your eyes sat in here.”

You don’t look up. “Don’t turn a light on.”

“Oh right. You’re busy.”

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction, using your other hand to shuffle through the pages scattering your desk. So many words, so little time to figure them out. The client will be here tomorrow. They’ll expect everything to be in order, because you promised them everything would be in order, but now you’re sat behind your desk and you don’t even know where to begin-

Fingertips, light as butterfly wings, tickle along your jaw line.

Your eyes snap up, breath leaving you in a single swoop when you see Finn sat on the edge of your desk, a fond smile on his face as he traces his fingers along the curve of your jaw, down your neck until he pauses at the collar of your fluffy dressing gown.

“Stressed?”

You swat his hand away. “None of this shit makes sense. It’s driving me insane.”

Finn sighs, swinging his legs over the desk and pushing himself over to your side. He lands beside you and kneels down, taking a look at the pages you were previously dawdling over.

You glance at him. “Why are you bothering?”

Finn picks up a page, squinting. “Just because I can’t read, doesn’t mean I can’t be useful.”

You snatch the page back. “Yes it does.”

“Take a break.”

You scoff, the idea ludicrous.

Finn raises a brow, tilting his head to intercept your line of sight. “I mean it. If that client tomorrow has a problem, he can come to me about it.”

“This is my business, Finn. I have responsibilities that need to be sorted.”

“You also have a lad who also needs to be sorted.”

You narrow your eyes, glancing at him. “What a pervy thing to say.”

“It’s my way of telling you I miss you without sounding like a knob.”

You snort. “It didn’t work.”

Finn grabs your hand, twirling you around to face him. He stands to his full height, forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him from your place in the desk chair. He smiles, swiping his thumb along your lower lip.

“How about I get Isaiah to have a look through these pages for you tomorrow morning, hm?” he asks.

“Finn…”

“You’re exhausted, Y/N. I’m doing you a favour. Now stop being a twat and let’s get-”

“I feel like you just want me to go home with you.” You look up at him, raising a brow. “Even though Arthur said…”

Finn rolls his eyes, grabbing your hands and tugging. “Fuck what Arthur said. Just come home.”

Home. His place. His room. His bed. His warmth. All of it is home now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You sigh and stand up, giving into his complaints. His smile gets wider when you rise from the chair and wrap your arms around his shoulders, revealing just how right he was - you are exhausted.

He hugs you back, swaying a little bit before he presses a kiss to your lips; just a small one, because kissing when he means it is still something a little unknown to Finn Shelby; he used to kiss the girls his brothers hired for him, but he’s openly admitted to you that he never felt like he should, he never felt like them kisses mattered. Now, he kisses you with precision, making sure to draw back every now and then to make sure it’s okay, he’s okay, he’s doing a good job.

You grin, tapping your tongue against his lower lip in that way that drives him insane. “I liked it when you said you were my lad.”

Finn scowls, crinkling his nose up. Freckles scatter his face, constellations against a pale sky. “Don’t think too deep into it.”

“I’m going to.”

Finn picks you up bridal style. You don’t even squeal, simply rest your head against his shoulder, humming into his neck. “Let’s get you to bed, love. You’ve gone delirious.”

“Isaiah better not lose me a fucking client tomorrow.”

Finn chuckles. “We’ll find out in the morning.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders one shot #finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby one shot #finn shelby fanfiction #finn shelby fic #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby fanfic #peaky blinders reader insert #finn shelby fluff #peaky blinders writing

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rubysunnday · 4 years ago

Note

Would you ever write a part 3 to Runaways? Maybe where the shelbys find them in America?

Runaways, part 3

A/N: Ask and you shall receive (I sound like a genie)

The first few months were hell.

The only apartment you could afford was a dingy, dark, damp flat in Harlem that never saw the sun. Finn struggled to find a job and you struggled to keep the only job you’d found - cleaning the apartments of the rich uptown.

It’d all changed when, four months after you’d arrived, an envelope filled with cash landed on your door matt.

“Finn?” You called, reading the scrap of paper that’d been included with the envelope.

“Huh?”

You handed Finn the envelope and the scrap of paper, wrapping an arm around his waist. “She knows where we are.”

Finn smiled. “Good. We can find somewhere in Greenwich or Uptown, now.”

“Or we could go somewhere else?”

Finn looked down at you. “Would you want to leave New York?”

You shrugged. “Well, there is this one house...”

Finn chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Ah, that’s the reason you want to stay, is it?”

You smiled up at him. “New York’s alright, I suppose. It’s got charm.” You chuckled. “It reminds me of Birmingham - and when I say that I mean all the bad things about Birmingham. The smell, the smog, the shit everywhere -”

“The rats?”

You giggled. “The rats.”

Finn sighed. “Do you ever miss it?”

“All the time,” you replied quietly. “But we can’t go back, Finn. Even if we wanted to.”

Finn nodded sadly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I know. But, if she knows...do you think everyone else has come round?”

“Maybe.” You paused, thinking. “Would you want to tell them where we are?”

Finn shrugged. “Maybe later, once we’ve moved.”

“If we move.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with the rats, sweetheart, but I would like to sleep somewhere that isn’t trying to kill me.”

~ 0 ~

The house you had your eye on was actually a small cottage on the outskirts of uptown. It was surrounded by beautiful fields filled with flowers and orchards and came with a stable.

You and Finn had bought the house and, with the left over money, bought two horses for the stables.

Two months after moving in, you discovered that you were pregnant.

Eight months later, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

“She’s gorgeous, y/n,” Finn said softly as your daughter gripped onto his pinky finger. “She’s so, so beautiful.”

You smiled at your husband as he stared down at your daughter. “What do you want to call her?”

Finn looked up at you. “You’re letting me chose her name?”

“If you're sensible,” you replied, smirking.

Finn looked down at his daughter again, gently stroking her nose. “Peggy.”

You nodded. “Peggy Esme Shelby?”

Finn looked up at you, eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure?”

“She was just as important to me as she was to you. If John could be a female name I’d have called her that, my love.”

Finn kissed you, smiling. “We’ll just have to have another baby.”

“Ah, fuck now, I don’t really want to be pushing another 8 pound human out my vagina.”

Finn laughed. “Alright, alright.” He smirked. “I’ll ask you again in a year.”

~ 0 ~

“I cannot believe you let this happen,” you muttered.

Finn chuckled as he gently rocked his son in his arms. “I told you.”

“You didn't have to carry him around for nine months and fucking push him out,” you grumbled, stroking your two year old daughter’s hair as she slept next to you.

“I've been thinking,” Finn said quietly, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“Oh, we know that’s not good for you,” you replied, smiling.

“Shush,” Finn said, gently nudging you. “Would you be ok with his name being John Arthur Shelby?”

You paused. “Are you sure?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah. If you’re alright with it?”

You reached up and put a hand on Finn’s cheek. “Finn, my love, it’s your decision. I love the name and if you’re alright with it, then that’s what we’ll call him.”

Finn smiled, leaning up and kissing your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, kissing him back.

~ 0 ~

“If Tommy knew about this -”

“He’d either find it hilarious or be deeply insulted.”

You chuckled as Finn struggled to get the stallion you’d just bought into the field. “I cannot believe you’ve named the stallion, the most stubborn horse I’ve ever met, after your brother.”

Finn laughed. “It’s only suitable. A stubborn arsehole who thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“Tommy in a nutshell,” you summarised.

Finn finally managed to get the horse into the field and sighed happily as he shut the gate, walking over to you.

“Where’s Peggy and John?”

“In the field with the lambs,” you replied, nodding to where your five year old daughter and your two year old son were playing with the lambs. “Why?”

Finn sighed, his hand snaking around your waist. “I think we should go to Birmingham.”

You looked up at him. “Move or visit?”

Finn paused. “Visit. I love our life here, Y/N, I do but...I miss them.”

You nodded. “I know I didn’t know them for long but...I miss them too, Finn.” Your hand grasped his. “I think that Polly deserves to meet her grandniece and nephew too.”

“Are you sure?” Finn asked, resting his chin on your head.

“Yeah...it’s been almost six years, I’d hope they’ve moved on,” you replied. “And if it all works out, we can think about moving back. Because, despite what you say, Finn, my love, I know you hate America.”

“They’re so weird.”

“I know they are, Finn, I know.”

~ 0 ~

Birmingham hadn’t changed in the six years you’d been gone.

It was still as dirty, smoggy and as bleak as ever yet it still felt like home.

“Are you alright?” You asked, glancing at your husband as you walked down Watery Lane.

Finn nodded. “Fine.”

“You’re lying.”

“I agree with mummy,” Peggy piped up.

You chuckled at your daughter. “See, Peg’s agrees with me.”

Finn rolled his eyes at you and Peggy. “I’m just nervous, it’s been a while.”

“And we now have a son and a daughter and a farm.”

“When did our lives get so weird?” Finn asked, shaking his head.

Number 6 Watery Land came into view and Finn slowed down slightly.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “We can do this, Finn,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I trust you.”

Finn nodded, squeezing your hand back. “Let’s do this.”

He stepped forward and knocked firmly on the black door. He stepped back and sighed nervously.

You glanced at Finn as the front door was unlocked and gave him a comforting smile.

Ada Thorne swung open the door and stare at you.

“Hi, Ada,” Finn said, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding his son’s.

“Holy shit,” Ada whispered, still staring. She took a step forward. “I...”

You smiled at her. “We were getting homesick and thought you deserved to meet your niece and nephew.”

Ada’s eyes turned to look at Peggy and John, moving back up to you and Finn. “Holy fucking hell,” she said again, stepping forward and hugging you and Finn tightly.

“We missed you too, Ada,” Finn muttered, resting his head on his sister’s shoulder as she hugged him.

Ada let go and crouched down, turning to face her niece and nephew. “And who’s this?”

You gently pulled Peggy forward. “This is Peggy Esme Shelby,” you said, your daughter hiding behind your legs slightly. “Peg’s, this is your Aunt Ada, the one we told you about.”

“Hi Auntie Ada,” Peggy said, smiling. She stepped forward and hugged Ada.

Ada looked up at you as she returned the hug and you chuckled quietly at the tears in her eyes. “Hi.”

“I’m John.”

You sighed. “Johnny, we’ve discussed this,” you said, glancing down at your son. “Wait your turn.”

Ada looked at John. “John what?”

“John Arthur Shelby,” your son said proudly, smiling as he hugged his aunt.

Ada glanced between you and Finn. “You named him after John and Arthur?”

“Finn’s idea,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “Felt like it was the best name for him.”

Ada smiled as she stood up. “I can’t believe you’re here. I...I just can’t.”

“Ada, what the fuck is taking so long?”

You laughed. “Arthur’s still here, then?”

“Can’t fucking get rid of him,” Ada muttered. “Do you want to come in?”

“We came all this way,” Finn replied, shrugging. “And I trust you.”

“I’ve got your back,” Ada told you, nodding.

She led you inside Number 6, shutting the door behind you.

“Finally!” Arthur exclaimed, his voice drifting to you from the shop. “Who the fuck was at the door?”

Ada stepped aside as you and Finn stood in the doorway, staring at the Shelby family.

Complete silence fell over the room.

“Holy shit,” Polly whispered, staring.

“I thought swearing was bad, mummy?” Peggy whispered, pulling on your skirt.

“Yeah, no, it is, Peggy,” you replied, crouching down. “But, Great Aunt Polly is a bit surprised...well, most of the people in the room are, probably.” You looked up at the surprised family. “Peggy, John, these are the Aunt’s and Uncle’s we’ve been telling you about.”

John stepped out from behind Finn. “Uncle Arthur?” He asked, pointing at Arthur. “The one who stole my name?”

Finn laughed. “We named you after him.”

John sulked. “Bit rude.”

Arthur blinked. “Fuck me,” he muttered, staring at your son. “Is he yours?”

“I fucking hope so,” you replied, standing up. “We were getting homesick and thought you all deserved the chance to meet the new Shelby's. I’m sorry about what happened and how we left things but we want to try and make amends.”

“You two didn’t do anything wrong,” Polly said, stepping forward and hugging you tightly. “We did.”

You hugged your Aunt - in - law tightly. “I missed you, Pol,” you whispered, resting your head against her.

“We missed you too, sweetheart,” Polly replied, letting go and kissing your forehead. “Finn, you look amazing.”

Finn laughed. “Thanks, Pol.”

Polly hugging you and Finn seemed to break the surprise and tension in the room and soon the rest of the family stepped forward.

“I’m sorry about before,” Arthur said, standing in front of you.

You grabbed his hand. “Arthur, it’s all in the past, love.” You stood on your tip - toes and hugged your brother - in - law tightly. “Besides, you’re the only family I’ve got left.”

Arthur hugged you back. “You were always a Shelby, sweetheart. Just took us a fucking long time to accept that.”

“What the fuck is happening?”

Arthur let go as Tommy’s booming voice echoed around the shop.

You didn’t miss the way Arthur stood slightly in front of you and Peggy, evidently wanting to shield you from Tommy if things went ugly.

“Hi, Tom,” Finn said, standing up straighter.

“Finn, Y/N, you’re back,” Tommy said, taking his coat off. “With children.”

You looked at Tommy. “Look, Tom, we wanted you all to have the chance to meet Peggy and John, your niece and nephew.”

Tommy stepped forward, cigarette between his fingers. “You named him after John?”

“And Arthur,” John piped up, emerging from behind Ada and walking up to Tommy and extending a hand. “Hi, Uncle Tom.”

You pressed your lips together as you struggled not to laugh.

Tommy raised an eyebrows as he crouched down in front of John. “Hello, John. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tommy said, shaking his nephew’s hand. He put his cigarette between his lips and lifted John up into his arms.

“So, you’re alright with me now?” You asked, watching him.

Tommy looked at you with a hint of a smile. “Y/N, I apologise for what happened in the past. But I want you to know that you’re welcome here whenever.”

You visibly relaxed, sighing quietly. “I’m glad.”

“I do have one complaint, however,” Tommy said, walking forward. “Why’s my respective child?”

You chuckled, glancing at Finn. “Ah, he’s back in America.”

Tommy frowned. “Oh, why?”

Finn snorted as you paused, trying to think of a way to explain it.

“Well,” Finn began, “we thought two were enough, so...”

“Your respective child is the new stallion we bought a month ago who’s a stubborn arsehole,” you finished, smiling. “Thought it was suitable.”

Tommy shook his head, smiling as the rest of the family burst out laughing. “A stubborn arsehole horse,” Tommy muttered, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette. “Seems perfect.”

You laughed. “We thought so too, Tommy.”

Peggy suddenly ran forward and hugged Tommy’s legs. “Hi Uncle Tommy.”

You sighed, despairingly. “Now she likes you.”

Arthur laughed, patting you on the back as he kissed your cheek. “Welcome home, y/n.”

You shook your head as Peggy and John began bombarding Tommy and Michael with questions, talking a million miles an hour.

“I really need a drink,” you muttered, dropping your head onto Arthur’s shoulder as Finn went to rescue his brother and cousin. “Preferably more than one.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #finn Shelby x reader #finn shelby

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 6 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: this is rated “B” for Bickering. It’s getting gay(er) I promise. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading it! <3

-6-

Priyanka’s bad mood lasted some more time after Lemon left. She shushed her friends when they tried to bring up the issue again and ate her waffles in silence until the girls started cracking jokes to make her laugh.

She was glad when the conversation focused on Denali as she explained to the other girls how her skating programs worked and told them all about the training and the traveling she had done during the year. It was compelling enough to lift the spirits on the table and once they were done with their food and the coffee refills, they all parted ways.

Priyanka drove Denali back to the house of her friend where she was staying for the month and got the chance to catch up with her a bit more. Inevitably, a question would pop at any moment.

“So…” The girl on the passenger seat began and Priyanka already knew what was coming. “this girl Lemon and you… what’s the story behind it?”

“Ugh…” Priyanka wanted to hit her head with the steering wheel. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.” She said. “And you did mention a place that serves the best ice cream in town, don’t think I have forgotten.”

Priyanka sighed. “Nosy bitch…”

Denali cackled. “Oh, c’mon! I’m dying to know.”

“Fine. But you’re paying for my ice cream and I’ll make sure I order every topping, sprinkle, and syrup available.”

Priyanka turned left and changed their destination until they arrived at the ice cream parlor. Just as she had threatened, she ordered a monstrosity of ice cream for herself while Denali sat there with her cookies and cream sundae.

“Lemon and I were friends since kindergarten…” She started.

She told Denali everything, the first time they shared cookies, their days of primary school, the day Lemon left for New York, and the aftermaths of that moving. She told her the exact moment her crush began and when she knew it was way more than just a temporary thing. She told her about the big fight when Lemon visited her and how she had ignored her for the next five months until the blonde stopped trying whilst Priyanka thought she was doing the right thing. She told her about the moment she knew things were never going back to normal with them.

“Wait… wait, stop right there. So you two argued about something so stupid and then boom that’s it?”

“When you put it like that…”

“Because you know it is something stupid two fifteen-year-old girls would argue over, right?”

“First of all, it was a big deal back in the day.”

“Pri you were jealous of another girl and the remote possibility of your plans not being fulfilled. Plans you made when you were ten.”

“It wasn’t only about the plans we made… I could feel the distance between us and the way she was moving out without me in the future… it scared me.”

“Then why you never told her that?”

“Because… I’d have to admit my crush and end up with my heart broken twice by the same person.”

“Or… maybe give her the chance to decide that?”

Priyanka glared at her. “Denali, what are you implying?”

“I’m just saying that you were mad at her for not letting you being her friend and yet you weren’t giving her the chance to know your feelings, neither of you were being completely honest with each other… does that make sense?”

Priyanka took a big spoon of her ice cream and put it on her mouth to avoid answering.

“What I’m saying is that… this is your chance to make things right with her… maybe even the start of something new?”

“This isn’t a Disney Channel movie, you’re aware of that, right?”

“Priyanka, don’t you see? What are the odds of something like this happening? After seven years…”

“If you’re trying to make it look like a «this is fate» kind of situation, quit right now. It’s not going to work.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “Anyway…”

“You’re such a stubborn head sometimes I swear to God…”

“But you love me for that, don’t you?”

“I question myself sometimes.”

Priyanka threw a napkin playfully at her.

“After seven long years… things might have changed for you two.” She had a mischievous look on her face.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Listen, tomorrow’s Friday night, I’m sure the New Yorker in her is going to be out enjoying the nightlife… maybe you should do the same… Show her what she’s missed all this time.”

“It’s a stupid idea.”

No, that wasn’t going to work, it was ridiculous.

“I still think it’s a stupid idea.” Priyanka complained while sitting in the backseat of the taxi.

“Kiara and Juice are meeting us there.” Scarlett confirmed, ignoring what her friend had just said.

Denali put her thumbs air and smiled at Priyanka.

She had complained, protested, and kicked like a toddler but once their friends heard Denali’s labeled as a «genius idea», there was no way back. They had kidnapped her along with a bunch of her clothes and dragged her to Scarlett’s house to get ready.

Hence, she had no choice but to go along with their plan and she might as well put a little effort on since the goal was to get noticed by the devil in disguise herself.

She deliberately chose a pair of tight black shorts that barely covered her ass, a gold sequin top with thin strips that began on the front and finished tied on her back, and a pair of long black velvet boots that prolonged her legs by miles. Denali and Scarlett had her twirling around in her outfit just to throw cheesy compliments at her and whistled as old wolves in cartoons did.

Once her hair was tied in a high ponytail, she did her makeup while chattering with her friends.

What if she doesn’t show up?

She’s going to, we’ve some inside info.

Still, why do I have to go? I don’t wanna see her.

Bullshit, of course you do.

Besides, it’s about her seeing you.

“I can’t do this.” She whispered in front of the mirror.

“Your eyeliner or going to the nightclub?” Scarlett asked before applying red lipstick on her lips.

“The nightclub…”

“Priyanka, you’re a grown-up woman who’s going out on a Friday night. If Lemon happens to be there then wave at her and take a shot after it.” Her friend scolded. “Listen, I love you but it’s clear that if she has the power to make you feel this way it’s because there’s something underneath neither of you have solved. I say that you get over that fear and move on with your life.”

“No, you’re right…”

“The Priyanka I know would pick up girls in clubs with ease because she’s confident and that’s hot.”

“I’m so telling Juice you think I’m hot.”

Denali chuckled while putting mascara on.

“My point being that… I don’t know what’s about that Polly Pocket bitch that turns your already soft oatmeal brain into a liquid state but get a grip.”

Priyanka laughed at loud. “Okay, okay… you don’t have to drag me like that. We’re going to have fun tonight, I promise.”

They got to the club five minutes after; it was a chilly night –one of those that might require a jacket they hadn’t brought- but nothing that a good shot of alcohol couldn’t fix within a few minutes.

Music was blasting from the speakers; there were circles of people dancing on the floor already, the unmistakable frenetic energy buzzed in the air and made every touch, every brush charged with electricity.

Kiara and Juice found them in the crowd; they were carrying a couple of vodka shots and shared them with the newly arrived.

Lemon was already inside the club, Priyanka spotted her sitting on the bar stirring something that looked like a pink vodka lemonade.

She was wearing a white strapless tube dress with a sheer shirt with fur on the tips of the sleeves on top of it along with a pair of pearly ankle strap shoes. Her hair was curlier than the other day so she had probably styled like that with an iron.

Next to her, Kyne enjoyed a bottle of beer and Priyanka suddenly understood where the piece of inside information had come from. Kiara, you slut…

Priyanka drank the shot in one gulp and let the alcohol burn her throat. It was the good type of burn, a little spark to ignite the fire in her veins.

“I’ll go get the next round.” Priyanka announced.

“I’ll help you.” Denali followed her.

Priyanka dodged some drunkards that offered to buy her drinks and walked directly toward the bar making sure she casually appeared next to Lemon. She rested her elbows on the bar and moved her ponytail to display the intricate knots on her almost naked back.

Lemon stared for a moment and then sighed. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Ignore me, I’m just getting some drinks for me and my friends.”

“I already do that.”

“Well, you’re not very good at it.” She looked at Kyne. “Hey there… Kiara said she’ll buy you another beer once you’re done with that one. You should go dance with her later.”

“Ah… alright…” The girl blushed and took a sip of her beer.

“Remember Denali?” She pointed at the dark-haired girl next to her.

“Yes… I had the pleasure to meet her the other day… unlike others.” She drank what was left of her drink.

Priyanka called the bartender and ordered the round of shots, shortly after five full glasses were in front of them.

“Which one is yours?” Lemon asked.

Priyanka frowned. “This one on my hand, obviously.”

“Good.” Without giving her time to protest, Lemon snatched the drink from her hand and took it herself without flinching, and put it back on her hand as if nothing had happened.

“Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” She said.

“For what?” Priyanka was still dumbfounded.

“I don’t let many people buy me drinks.” She smirked again.

The brunette’s lips turned into a grimace; there wasn’t anything in the world that she wanted more than erasing that little cocky expression off her face.

“Let’s go, Kyne, let’s find the others. I wanna dance.” She smiled at Denali overlooking Priyanka. “See you around.”

Priyanka shook her head. “I can’t believe it… I can’t… did you see that?”

“Pri… this is great.” Denali seemed to be amused by the exchange.

“What?”

“Don’t you see? She was provoking you.”

“Yeah, by inciting violence.” She waved back to the bartender.

“To get a reaction from you… It’s like a game, now is your turn to move.”

“You’re crazy. She did it just to bug me and she succeeded.”

“And now you can’t stop talking about it… my point exactly.”

She shook her head. “No, Lemon’s not like that… she wouldn’t.”

“Maybe the Lemon you knew before but this Lemon is different… a bit bitchy and that’s a good thing.”

“Oh, no, that’s not new. She’s always been a bitch, trust me.”

Denali laughed, they grabbed their drinks and went back where the other girls were.

They made it just in time to dance to I Love It by Icona Pop and sing the chorus from the top of their lungs. After the second shot, Priyanka could finally loosen up, just go with the music and the environment to let herself enjoy the night.

They danced non-stop for a good thirty minutes until Priyanka went to the bar again. Kiara gave her money to get her a vodka tonic and she ordered a fireball for herself. She sat for a moment on one of the stools to catch her breath while she waited to be served.

It was when her eyes found her.

Lemon had taken off the semi-transparent shirt and now she only had that small dress embracing her body as she danced, and God, the way she danced… She didn’t miss a single beat, her body reacted to the music in a way Priyanka had never seen before, it was calculated yet sensual, it was methodic yet loose, in other words, it was hypnotic.

Priyanka was so mesmerized at the moment she almost had no time to play it cool when Lemon walked toward the bar once again. Now her body glowed with a thin layer of sweat and her hair wasn’t as neat as the beginning of the night, Priyanka liked it better that way.

“Thank you.” She talked to the bartender disregarding the blonde next to her.

Lemon stole her drink once again and took a sip of it but this time she cleared her throat loudly, grimacing in disgust at the taste of the flavored whiskey.

“Ew, cinnamon.”

Priyanka mocked her right away. “This is going to teach you something.”

“Yeah, it just taught me how tasteless you are… that’s disgusting.”

Priyanka drank it and let an “ah” out. “Delicious.”

“What’s that?” She pointed at Kiara’s drink.

“Vodka tonic but it’s for Kiara.”

“She’s not going to need it… her tongue is somewhere Kyne’s throat right now,” Lemon said as she extended her hand and took the glass of the countertop. She rinsed the flavor of the fireball with some more alcohol. “Is that a thing? Like a recurrent thing? Them I mean.”

“Sorta but Kyne didn’t acknowledge it until like last year so I’d say it’s still very recent.”

At that moment a guy tried to approach them with the intention of buying them a drink.

“Eat dirt and get lost.” Lemon hissed making the guy disappear from he came from.

“Wow, that was kind of aggressive…” Priyanka said but she sniggered anyway.

“I told you I don’t let anyone buy me drinks plus I don’t like men that try to win women over with drinks. I don’t need their coins, I can buy my own drinks.”

“I’m quite sure you haven’t bought any of the drinks you had tonight, am I wrong?”

“I could buy them if I wanted to…”

“Could you?”

“Yes.”

“Bartender,” Priyanka drew attention from the person behind the bar. “two shots of tequila over here.”

Lemon glared at her. “I said if I wanted to… and I’m certainly not buying you a drink.”

“Fine, I’ll take both shots myself.” Priyanka grabbed both glasses with one hand.

“Wait! Fine…” She pulled a bill from her cleavage and put it on the countertop. “Happy?”

“Classy.” Priyanka grinned.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was because it was Friday night but Priyanka was having fun there with Lemon and it had been an eternity since the last time they hung out like that.

The blonde rolled her eyes and then right before Priyanka’s eyes licked a stripe on the side of her palm, added salt, and licked it again before drinking the shot in the blink of an eye. Finally, she sucked the lime and threw it on the plate in front of them.

Priyanka gulped.

Lemon stared at her. “Well? You were the one who wanted to drink tequila.”

Priyanka repeated the process but she knew for sure she wasn’t putting on a show as Lemon did.

“That girl… Denali…” Lemon tested the waters at the mention of her name. “is she… close to you?”

“I adore her, yeah.”

“Is she… your girlfriend?”

Priyanka looked at the dance floor where Denali was still dancing and having fun with her other friends and then back at Lemon.

“Why?”

“I don’t know… I saw you two together earlier… I just assumed…”

“Would you care?”

Lemon shrunk on her seat. “Why would I?”

“You asked me about it.”

“I was trying to make small talk… plus you haven’t answered my question.”

“You haven’t answered mine.”

The blonde seemed to be cornered for a moment but she looked at Priyanka in the eye with the combative spirit she had always had in her.

“You didn’t answer my calls for five months back in the day, cute, isn’t it?” There was anger and some poison on her words and it hit the brunette right away.

Lemon went back with her friends without saying anything else.

Priyanka watched her until Scarlett dragged her back to the dance floor.

After several hours of dancing and drinking, Priyanka was drunk and exhausted in the best possible way. She was outside the club sharing a cigarette with Scarlett -it was kind of cold but she was completely unbothered by the weather- when a very sleepy Juice showed up, Scarlett went home with her and Priyanka didn’t even try to say something. Let them be happy or whatever.

Denali had left an hour ago, tired as hell too, and Kiara was probably going home with Kyne so she might as well get a taxi for herself as soon as the cigarette on her hand died.

Lemon walked out of the club just when her friends had closed the taxi door and left Priyanka alone. The blonde was carrying her shirt over her shoulder like a jacket and looked at Priyanka as soon as she spotted her in the corner.

She walked straight but there was something on her face that told Priyanka she hadn’t sobered up yet.

“There you are.” She dragged her words comically.

Priyanka shrugged. “Here I am.”

Lemon was about to say something but then she squinted. “Why are you so tall?”

“Because I ate my vegetables when I was little.”

“Liar, you threw them on the trash can when the teacher wasn’t looking at you.”

The brunette laughed. “I had forgotten about that. I got into so much trouble when they discovered it.”

“Trouble? Are you talking about trouble? What would your mother say if she caught you smoking?” She accused.

“Bite me.” Priyanka started laughing. “Did you come here to fight?”

“Yeah… but then I remembered you’re too tall.”

This cracked Priyanka even more; she was almost bent in half.

“What is it so funny?”

“I just remembered that Scarlett called you Polly Pocket earlier and now I can’t unsee it.”

“Fuck you and fuck her too…” She said. “Who are you calling Polly Pocket? I’m a whole ass Bratz or I will be when I can afford the botox injections.” She pouted.

“You sure will, doll.”

“Why are you here alone anyway?” She hiccupped. “Why isn’t your girlfriend with you?” Lemon leaned against a lamppost.

“All of my girl-friends left earlier.”

“You know whom I mean…”

Priyanka shook her head. It was too absurd for her.

A taxi turned around the corner and the brunette waved at it.

“Okay, Little Miss Sunshine, time to go home.” Priyanka tapped the vehicle’s roof.

“I get it… okay…” She got into the cab. “good night… Sprinky.”

“Good night, Lemon.” She closed the door and watched the car leaving.

She could take the next one.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #lemon #priyanka #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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