#think there's some in birmingham too

[project-sekai-facts]

Which countries do you think vbs are going to go after surpassing rw?

Some of the streets in the new sekai area are said to be based on Mexico (from a photobook Kohane saw), Hamburg, Boston (both places Toya has been), and Argentina (probably in part due to football, it was in Akito's chapter). In Kohane's chapter, it's said that the music playing in the street she's in is latin, but no country is named. India is also referenced. I think those would be pretty interesting in all honesty, and they already built some connections between them and the members, except An.

[monocrowee]

my silly mouse guy for @hydropyro mouse army !!! ty for doing this as well as making this got me to finish and post something:]

[cherrycranes]

A Proper Thank You (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're Tommy's younger girlfriend who he loves to spoil. Thankfully, you always know how to thank him. Word count: 2,954 Contents: (Minors DNI) Age gap (reader is in her 20's, Tommy is in his 40's), smut, daddy kink (a serious use of the word "daddy"), oral sex (male receiving), cum eating. Author's notes: Another collab with my bestie @fuckiingloser. Don't forget to give her some love too! Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love ya!

You were not the first young woman to be with a man in his 40's. It was still very common even if the times were changing. But there was something about this relationship that did mirror the societal shift. You were his sweet girlfriend who he paraded around town, who shamelessly sat on his lap while he worked and who shared his bed. Quite the scandal for those still stuck in Victorian times who would expect this to happen only between a married couple. Good thing the Victorian times had ended over 30 years ago. 

Tommy loved having you by his arm half of the time. The other half he loved having you under him. Or on top, he wasn't picky. He got a kick out of the variety of looks some people would give him for having a pretty, young girl as his sweetheart. But above all things, he absolutely adored the way his pretty baby looked at him whenever he spoiled her rotten.

Today, you went with him to a horse ranch near Southam. A lovely place where Tommy intended to see that beautiful look in your eyes once more. He smirked, seeing you caress a beautiful mare’s nuzzle, the animal calm and docile under your touch.

“Aye, I think she likes you.” Tommy announced with pride, already planning to buy the horse for his beautiful girlfriend.

“You think?” You turned your head to look at him and admire his poise. The cigarette kissing his lips, the fine dark suit, the piercing blue eyes. So intimidating to many, so dear to you. “She’s beautiful…” Your thoughts and eyes returned to the mare, giving her another soft pet.

“You two make a very pretty picture, baby girl.” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out skillfully before making his way to you. His big arms wrapped around you from behind while he rested his chin on your shoulder. You smirked when a surprisingly sweet kiss was planted on the side of your head. Thomas Shelby was never sweet to anyone, not even in the dark humor jokes of those who knew him. His portrait could have easily been annexed to the definitions of “rugged”, “serious” and even “ruthless”, yet, here he was. This was what his lips that had spat out curses and threats were doing. Kissing. And very gently at that. 

Above all women, you had a special place in his soul. You had him wrapped around your finger like those expensive rings you wore. Anything you wanted, you could have it. And if tomorrow you were to ask for a heart on a silver plate, he would tear anybody’s chest open and serve it to you himself.

You leaned into him, just in time to meet his husky whisper:

“If you want her baby… She’s yours.” 

With a big, spoiled princess grin, you turned around and looked at him in complete elation.

“Thank you, daddy!” Your sweetness intoxicated him, the way you looked into his eyes killed him, and the way you called him “daddy” raised him from the dead. He absolutely loved it. 

A calloused hand came up to touch your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip. He admired the joy upon your beautiful face and studied it devotedly.

“Anything for my girl.” He spoke softly, his sexy Birmingham accent made your knees feel weak and your pussy become wetter. In a heartbeat, Thomas spoke to the farm owner, purchased the mare without even caring about the cost and made the necessary arrangements so you could have your pretty horse. 

After a successful purchase, Thomas helped you into the passenger seat of his car, driving you back to town. You would have your horse tomorrow morning, right now, business called.

He drove you to the Garrison, the Shelby's family owned pub for a Peaky Blinder business meeting. Usually, women were not allowed, but you were not just a woman. You were Thomas Shelby’s woman. And the people who knew would rather chop a limb off than dare to deny you access.

With his hand on your lower back, Tommy guided you inside the rowdy bar towards the private Peaky Blinders table. Everybody was waiting for your arrival between sips of irish whiskey and puffs of smoke. Thomas took a seat and you took yours on his lap, the feeling of your weight on him as natural as the feeling of air entering his lungs. 

The men at the table did not bat an eye, your presence was the new normality. And in a way, a sign that things were good, that Thomas was relaxed and no conflicts were on the horizon. If something bad or difficult was preying upon them, you would be hidden away in some safe heaven and not happily sitting on Tommy’s lap. Perhaps, the only other emotion a few of the men could feel when looking at you was a secret, deeply buried longing. Anybody would love to have a beauty like you sitting on their lap. Not that they would allow Thomas to hear them admit that.

The meeting started around you, some usual business and many details you didn’t care for. Thomas concentrated, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your clothed thigh. You liked the skirt you wore, the fabric was soft, and it incited Tommy to touch. It was not exactly close to the feeling of your bare skin when you fucked him, or when he would make you sit naked on his lap while he worked in his house studio, but it was pleasant. 

The more the meeting dragged on, the more you started to grow restless. And a little bored, in all honesty. Sitting on his lap sounded glamorous and sensual in theory but in practice it was a test of resilience and patience. Being a sweet arm candy girl like you required more than a pretty face and a hot body. You also had to possess the skills to tell when a meeting was dying out and calculate the exact perfect moment to lean closer to Tommy’s ear and whisper something to save you from boredom.

“You know… I never properly thanked you today for getting me my beautiful horse… I think daddy needs a proper thank you…” Thomas turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk.

“Is that right?” He leaned closer to you until your noses bumped together, giving your thigh a squeeze. “And just how would you thank daddy, then? Hmm?” He whispered, the meeting a mere background noise now. You leaned towards his ear again, whispering so quietly so only Tommy could hear.

“I wanna suck your cock… Or you can fuck me over your desk in the back?” You purred so innocently despite the pure filth of your words. His cock told you all you needed to know about his opinion. The twitch inside his pants impossible to miss. You pulled back to stare into his eyes and take in his tiny smirk. He knew that resistance was futile and completely incompatible with him when it came to you.

Without excusing words or explanations to the other gentlemen, Thomas scooted you two out of the booth, taking your hand and guiding you to the back. He kicked the small office door open and locked you both in. You could almost feel his piercing blues tracing the shape of your ass under that fashionable skirt you wore. 

“So...” You started, walking over to his desk and luring him to take a few steps closer to you. He towered over you, his rough hands touched your hips with interest. “How does daddy want me?” You purred innocently, looking into his eyes.

Thomas’ cock hardened even more in his dress pants. Your figure, your soft face, your pretty eyes, your voice, you. Lust took over his eyes.

 “On your knees baby… you know what daddy wants.” His voice was husky, overcome with his need for you and your pretty little mouth. You grinned, a hungry look in your eyes replicating his own. Steadily, you sunk to your knees, the fabric of your skirt your only padding on the cold floor. Tommy leaned against his desk and watched you work your magic. Your fingers undid the button of his pants with torturous care.

“You know… If you wanted to fuck me in front that whole room of men… I’d let you. I’d let you do whatever you want to me..” You were a tease, you killed him slowly. His breath hitched a bit, his possessive streak driving him to total insanity. You were right. You would let him do anything he wanted. He knew. But hearing you say that made the fire of his lower stomach ignite him whole.

“Oh, I know you would… You’d be my good little girl, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your beautiful face. You nodded so innocently, and then lowered his pants down until they pooled around his ankles.

“I'll always be your good girl… I’ll always please you and let you use me however you need…” You whispered back, a soft sensual smile gracing your lips. Tommy couldn’t help but groan at your words, his painfully hard cock pulsing in his boxer briefs right in front of your face.

“God, you’re such a good girl… You’ll be good for daddy now won’t you?” He cooed. 

“Always.” You purred in devotion. Your hands reached up to grab the band of his boxers and, with one swift, well trained motion, pulled them down. His large throbbing cock sprung free for you to drool over. Mere inches away from your face. 

“You gonna thank your daddy properly, hmm?” He asked with a sexy smirk, heavily accented and incredibly husky. You nodded obediently, your eyes going from his beautiful irises to his hard cock. It had been over four months since you became his sweetheart and you still felt enamored at his sheer size.

“Yes daddy…” You answered softly then looked back up to his pretty blue eyes. “Gonna suck your cock and drain these perfect balls just how you like…” You made it a point to speak so innocently, stirring something in him. He could have lost himself right then and there from your words alone. It took him a second to fully take in the idea. The dirtiest promises coming from the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

“Fuck baby… You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that?” He asked in a playful little smirk, and you attacked. Your soft hand wrapped around his aching hard cock. He groaned softly.

“But at least you’ll die happy.” You purred, gifting him a few seconds to prepare himself before finally leaning in to swirl your tongue skillfully over the head of his dripping cock. Thomas let out a guttural moan, his hand gripping his desk behind him in an attempt to steady himself. His head fell back, the texture of your wet, warm tongue erasing each and every thought off his mind. It all became you and you only. You licking him, tasting his sensitive tip, you pleasing him.

“Fuck, baby… My perfect girl…” He managed to choke out, affected yet addicted. Your tongue swirled over him expertly, and you looked up at him. A sweet happy hum reverberated in your throat as you tasted the salt of his precum. Every drop that ran down his tip not making it far thanks to your eager licks. Your hum sent vibrations up his cock, making him feel like his knees were about to buckle under him. The only time he appreciated feeling vulnerable.

Tommy looked down at you servicing him, taking your sweet time on his sensitive tip. The fire in your eyes recognized his and burnt with it. 

“Holy-f-fuck.. my girl knows how to suck her daddy’s cock so good….” He groaned, and you took more of his lengthy cock in your mouth, working your way down and sucking it, your tongue massaging it slowly.

He tried his best to maintain his composure and control, but another swirl of your tongue made him admit to himself that he would not last long.

“F-fuck, baby girl… You keep going like that…” He groaned, gripping the edge of the wooden desk harder and urging you.

You bobbed your head on his cock in a skillful rhythm. The sounds coming from you were so filthy and obscene. Nothing could have torn his gaze away from you. It was a war between him and his throbbing cock. He wanted more, desperately needed more, but his orgasm neared closer than his next breath.

 “You’re too good to me, baby girl… You’re gonna make daddy come… And it’s gonna be right in your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna take every last drop, aren’t you?” He cooed with one hand touching the top of your head for support. You bobbed your head, up and down his shaft, with your nose bumping his pelvic area. You looked up and hummed in response. You always swallowed.

Noting his increasing pleasure, you pushed yourself to take more of his thick cock. You gagged a little and earned a loud moan from him akin to music to your ears.

“Goood girl… Good girl.” With his praise like a mantra, he watched over you, almost out of breath. “That's it. I'm gonna come for you… ‘m gonna come in this mouth and you’re gonna swallow all of it, aren’t you baby?” He repeated, unaware by now. No thoughts inside his head, only your perfect mouth that pulled back for just a second.

 “Yes, daddy.” You purred, looking up at him with innocent eyes before taking him in your mouth again, this time working faster and with much more intensity. Constantly swiping against the underside of his thick cock.

Thomas had to resist the urge of bucking into your mouth and fuck your face just the way he likes, but he found the willpower to stay calm. This was all about you pleasing him, putting that mouth of yours to work and thanking him. 

“Good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl…” He praised, his orgasm so close to hitting him and knocking him flat out. “Now, remember, baby girl… What’s my rule?” His voice almost cracked. Dominance was a hard thing to upkeep when his balls tightened this hard and your throat hummed around him. Your pussy grew wetter at the mention of the rule, one you had committed to memory.

“Before you can swallow, you have to show it to daddy... Need to see my come all over your pretty tongue, hmm?” Thomas said, barely hanging on at this point. One of his hands holding your hair back and the other gripping the desk behind him for stability.

You hummed as loud and as best as you can, his thick cock barely giving up space for sound to travel. You kept sucking him, and his resistance was hung on by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. His moans, his heavy breaths, the hot puffs of air he lets out, the way his cock throbbed in your  mouth… You wanted him done for. 

Your hand came up, gently cupping his balls and giving them a soft squeeze. His breath hitched and he cursed under his breath.

“Holy fuck, baby-” He choked out, and everything snapped inside him. “Coming..” That was the only word he managed to utter before his resolve crumbled and his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. His hand grabbed your hair firmly, but not painfully, keeping you there, ready to take it all.

Your movements stopped in anticipation and his cock pulsed inside your mouth. A salty load of cum coated your tongue completely and his sensual low groan filled your ears. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and his lips stayed parted. When every last drop was unloaded, he opened his eyes back again and looked at you intently.

“Show daddy…” He murmured, his voice a little strained. You obeyed, pulling off him and sitting back on your knees. With pride, you stuck out your cum-painted tongue for his viewing pleasure.

“My good girl.” Tommy praised. You were indeed so good. So obedient. So perfect for him. “You can swallow now, baby girl.” 

His hand petted the top of your head with appreciative softness, and you, living up to his praise, did as he said. The salt taste of his cum mixing with your saliva before passing down your throat. A soft hum of approval coming from you made him smile ever so gently.

He reached down to pull up his pants, tucking his now soft, sensitive and tired cock back into his boxers and buttoning his dress pants. He reached his hands down, pulling you up from the floor easily into his arms. When you were close to his face, you gave him a cheeky little smile. His hands cupped your face and gently pulled you in for a burning hot, passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, making him taste himself on you. A pervertedly satisfied smile crept into the kiss.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You know… If all it took to get you to do that for me is to buy you a horse… I think I'll buy you a horse, or anything else you want every single day for the rest of your life.” Tommy whispered in a mix of sensuality but also pure, deep love. 

Your eyes twinkled a bit and a soft smile appeared on your face. He was just as obsessed with you as you were with him. 

“Deal”.

[xoxoavenger]

I just read all of your Thomas Shelby x reader and i fell in love with all of it 😍

I honestly don't have any idea or specific request for you but i will send you these GIF in hope that maybe they will spark something for you to write.

Now that i have pick these i kinda realize i want some more hurt comfort 😅

thank you so so much! I'm glad you love them. I really locked in for this to try and get an idea, so hopefully you like it!

Up The Duff

pairing: Tommy Shelby x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

word count: 2536

warnings: pregnancy, hurt w/ comfort :)

"Good of you to join us." Y/N said to Ada when she finally walked into the main room. She and Polly were having tea, gossiping about practically everyone in Birmingham.

"Where have you been all day?" Polly asked in a much flatter tone than Y/N had, looking into her tea as if she were preemptively reading the leaves through the liquid.

"In bed." Y/N raised her eyebrow while Polly picked up a news paper, sharing a look with Ada. Oh, Ada had been in bed alright; in bed with Y/N's cousin. But, Y/N was in bed with Ada's brother, so she couldn't really say anything.

She kept Ada's secret well, and for awhile, Ada kept Y/N's secret. That was, until the entire Shelby lot had walked in while Thomas had her bent over the desk, clawing at the wood like an animal.

It took quite some time for her to gather the courage to look any of the Shelby's in the eye.

"Couldn't sleep. Then I couldn't wake up. Then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee." Ada was cutting herself some bread, and Y/N rolled her eyes as she over explained everything. "Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream. Then I was hungry." Ada sat down across from Y/N, who sipped her tea and looked at Polly. "I've never seen you read the paper, Pol." Ada said as she put jam on her toast.

"The BSA are on strike. The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Polly gave Ada a look, the younger girl simply licking the jam off her fingers.

"What?" Ada asked, looking between Y/N and Polly.

"Stand up," Polly told Ada, making Y/N raise an eyebrow once more.

"Why?" Ada asked, and Y/N tried to follow Polly's reasoning. She wasn't getting anywhere.

"Just stand up." Polly instructed. Y/N stood with Ada, going around the table to stand behind Polly as Ada wiped her hands. "Side on," Not even a moment later, Polly was grabbing Ada's breast, Y/N and Ada both letting out a gasp.

"What are you doing, Pol?" Y/N asked, walking up beside her. The older woman paid no mind to Y/N.

"Ada, how late are you?" Y/N's eyes widened. Was Ada pregnant?

Ada crossed and uncrossed her arms. "One week." Good, not too bad. Still a chance. "Five weeks." Ada said at the silence. Y/N looked a Polly, who was still looking at Ada. "Seven if you count weekends. I think it's a lack of iron." Ada tagged onto the end, and Y/N almost lost her breath. She knew Freddy and Ada had sex, but they weren't married, and she never thought this would have been the outcome. Polly sat down, and Ada sat next to her, causing Y/N to be on the outside behind them.

"What about those tablets?" Y/N asked, hoping to help.

"They didn't work, did they?" Polly asked, a sympathetic look on her face.

"No," Ada shook her head, and Y/N sighed. "I blame Y/N for my lack of notice. We're synced, and she hasn't asked for anything in two months, at least." It was quiet in the room as they all realized what Ada was saying.

"What? I just started buying my own." She lied, crossing her arms.

"No," Polly said, looking Y/N up and down. "Not both of you. Not two Shelby's." She begged, making the sign of the cross.

"I'm not a Shelby." Y/N informed Polly, as if she hadn't already known.

"You might as fuckin' well be!" She yelled out, making Y/N look around.

"I am not pregnant!" She yelled, taking a deep breath and calming herself down as Ada and Polly stared. She looked around, glad all the men were out. "I am not pregnant." She walked around the table and sat at the space across from the Shelbys.

"At least I've come to terms with it." Ada muttered, making Y/N scoff.

"We might not be pregnant. Just," She paused as she tried to think of a reason why her and Ada would be almost two months late.

"That's it," Polly hit the table, even though no one was talking.

"What's it?" Thomas asked as he walked in. Y/N's heart basically stopped beating for a moment, and she swore she was going to throw up.

"Y/N just came up with a new idea for jam." Ada covered, reaching over Polly to grab her toast. "Nothing special."

"Right." Thomas paused, turning to Y/N and nodding. She nodded back, giving a small smile to him. "I just came to pick up Y/N so she could get ready for our date tonight." Thomas walked over to Y/N, grabbing her hand and helping her up. His hand then went to the small of her back, and she smiled up at him.

"Oh, but she just agreed to go out with us." Polly feigned sadness, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, we were going to go to the new pub." Ada added, causing Y/N to squint. She didn't make any plans, and they had no reason to go out tonight.

"Oh?" Thomas questioned, and Y/N licked her lips.

"Uh, yeah," She wasn't sure the reason Polly and Ada wanted to go out, but she could guess that it had to do with their recent discoveries. "Sorry. I forgot we were going out." She bluffed, looking up again at Thomas. He cocked his head slightly, looking down at her.

Oh shit. He has to know.

"Right," Thomas looked at his family then, putting his free hand in his pocket. "Well, in that case, I will just be stealing her for the afternoon." He began to usher Y/N out, the two barely able to utter goodbye at Thomas' pace.

"Tommy, slow down!" Y/N said, tripping over her heels as they stepped out the door. He caught her, continuing all the way to the car. He helped her in as fast as he possibly could, practically pushing her across to the passenger side. "What was all that?" She asked as Thomas started the car.

"I think I should be asking you the same question." He responded, pulling into the street and driving down the road to her apartment.

"Why?" She asked, leaning against the door as she looked at Thomas. His side profile was something she could admire on a daily basis, and today was no exception.

"What was Polly talking about when I came in?" He cut straight to the chase, and she licked her lips as she shifted to face the windshield.

"The jam?" Y/N questioned, trying to stall.

"I'm not buying that shit." Thomas told her, glancing at her quickly before looking back at the road. "Just tell me what you were really talking about." He put a hand on her thigh, making her insides heat up. She forgot what they were talking about for a moment until Thomas hummed in question.

"It really was jam." She said innocently, nodding as if he were watching.

"Right," Thomas nodded, licking his lips and clearing his throat. "And this jam, what's the idea?" He questioned, still not moving his hand.

"The idea?" Y/N repeated, trying to think of something, anything, to tell Thomas.

"Yes, that's what I said." He told her, turning onto her street.

"Of course," She looked out the window; she didn't know the first thing about jams.

"Do you even know the ingredients to make jam?" Thomas asked, causing Y/N to scoff.

"Why would I have an idea for jams if I didn't know the ingredients?" Yes, this was good. She was getting him off topic.

"That's what I'm asking." He told her, not even seeming angry as he pulled up outside her building. She hopped out and met him on the other side, letting him hold her hand and lead them into the building.

"D'you want some tea?" Y/N asked as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Ah, best not. Where did Pol say you girls were going tonight?" Thomas asked, taking his hat off as he entered her small room.

"Oh, ya know, out and about." She said, pouring some water into the kettle to heat it, even though Thomas had said he didn't want any tea. She had forgotten the lie that Polly had made up already, and it made her heart sink.

"Ah, the Garrison?" He asked, taking a cigarette out and putting it in his mouth. Y/N turned, trying not to let her eyes widen.

"Could you not smoke in here, Tommy? It's a small room." She requested, walking up and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, replacing it with her own lips. He responded in kind, hands traveling to her side.

"What's really going on?" Thomas asked as they parted, causing Y/N's brain to come back much faster than she would have liked.

"What do you mean?" She whispered against his lips, trying to distract him again. Thomas was unfortunately strong willed, and he stepped back slightly.

"Come on, love. I know you don't make jam, and I know you and Ada and Pol aren't going to a pub tonight. Why're you lying to me?" He looked genuinely upset, and Y/N took a deep breath, turning back to the kettle as it whistled. As she was pouring the water, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek and pressing his face close to hers.

"Tommy," She whispered, tears in her eyes. "Tommy, I'm late." She muttered, letting a tear fall from her eye as she put the kettle down.

"Late?" He asked, and Y/N could tell he didn't understand because he hadn't tightened his arms or moved away.

"Yes," She said, not able to explain further.

"For," Thomas led off, leaning into her more causing her to spill some of her tea on herself. She hissed as she put it down, taking a deep breath.

"Tommy," She turned to him, looking up and watching his face fall as he realized she was crying.

"You're late," He said in understanding, taking a deep breath. She nodded, more tears falling down her face.

"We're going somewhere tonight," She told him, not able to look at him. "To confirm it." She kept Ada's secret, knowing that eventually Thomas would figure it out and it wasn't her place to tell him.

"I see," Thomas let go of her and walked backward running his hands over his face as he looked out the window. He licked his lips, rubbing his hands together. "How, um, how long?" He asked, finally looking at her.

"I wasn't keeping track, but, um, probably two months. Maybe 3." Her voice got quieter as she said the last part, and Thomas just nodded, looking back out the window. He then grabbed his hat and wordlessly walked out of the apartment, leaving Y/N in shock. She fell softly to the the floor then, staying there until Ada and Polly came to pick her up.

~

Tommy wasn't sure what to do.

He was feeling a lot of emotions, and his heart hadn't stopped beating out of his chest for thirty minutes. He sat on his bed, his door locked, with his hands over his face as he tried to breathe. He didn't want to leave Y/N, but he didn't want to freak out in front of her either.

How could he be a father? He knew Y/N would be a good mother, but he wasn't so sure about himself. What if he fucked up this kid? He would never be able to live with himself. And his work wasn't the greatest; he wasn't sure if he would ever get to the point where kids would be a good option.

And God, Y/N. His sweet girl. It was his fault that she would go through this, that she would have to birth a child. Was she ready for it?

He should have stayed and talked with her, he realized suddenly. He ran down the stairs and back to his car, speeding to get to Y/N's. But by the time he had got to her apartment, banging on the door and begging her to let him in, he realized she had already left to go out with Polly and Ada. And he doubted they were going to a pub.

Shit.

~

He waited outside the door, sitting in the hallway and watching multiple people walk by before Y/N finally showed up, face free of any makeup and eyes swollen, probably from crying.

"Tommy?" He had his head down against his knees, and he jerked up at the sound of her voice. He took her in, wondering if she was angry at him for leaving, before hopping up.

"I am so, so sorry," He whispers, not sure what else to say.

"Let's go inside." She offers, unlocking the door before walking in. She'll definitely have to move in with him, because he doesn't like how there's only one lock separating her from someone that may want to hurt her in order to get to him. Just the thought makes him sick, and he locks the door as soon as he closes it. It's quiet as they both try to figure out what to say, neither of them looking at each other.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips and then quickly crossing his arms instead.

"What?" She questions, not sure what Thomas was asking. She wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth, especially after he stormed out.

"When you first had the idea that you were pregnant, why didn't you come to me?" He seems so hurt, so upset, and that makes Y/N even more sad. She looks away.

"I didn't know what you would do," She tells him, tears running down her face. She looks at the floor, rambling. "We're not married, and I know you're trying to build your business and I just-"

"Do you want to be?" He cut her off, stepping closer to her.

"Want to be what?" She asked, too caught up in her worries to understand what he was asking.

"Married." He told her, completely confident. She blinked at him, not sure if he was being serious or if he was drunk.

"Is that how you're asking?" She questioned, crossing her arms and smiling slightly.

"If that's what you want," Thomas told her, grabbing her left hand and getting down on one knee. "I would be honored to be your husband." Y/N took a deep breath, trying to think about her answer.

"Are you only asking me because I might be pregnant?" She muttered, tears falling fast out of her eyes. She wanted to marry Thomas, but she didn't want him to marry her just because she was pregnant. "Because you don't have to do that," She sniffles.

"I wouldn't." He tells her, shaking his head as he puts his other knee down. He pulls her in by the waist, and she lets herself be tugged toward him, her stomach reaching his face. She cards a hand through his hair, smiling slightly.

"We'll be okay." She whispers, smiling as Thomas looks up at her. He stands, wiping her tears and pulling her in for a kiss.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @jbrownta

[dorabellingham]

Let's have a baby

warning: breedking but fluff

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when out of nowhere he decides to try to convince you to have a child with him

request: yes! (adapted)

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Jude was sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out on the coffee table as he watched a game on TV. You were next to him, a fashion magazine in your hands, occasionally exchanging glances with the screen to feign interest in the football. It was a quiet afternoon, but Jude seemed restless, fiddling with his phone and stealing glances in your direction. After a while, he let out a theatrical sigh, putting the phone aside.

—Have you noticed how everyone our age is starting to have kids?

You looked up from the magazine and arched an eyebrow.

—Everyone? Like who?

—Oh, I don’t know, my friends from Birmingham... some guys from the national team... even that influencer you like. —He made a broad gesture, as if he wanted to encompass the world. —It seems to be in fashion now.

You laughed, shaking your head.

—Babies aren’t a fad, Jude. They’re... babies. It’s hard work, you know?

Jude leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees, with a smile on the corner of his mouth.

—But it must be amazing, right? Having a mini you or a mini me running around the house…

You let out a nervous laugh, closing the magazine.

—Are you telling me you want a baby, honey?

He paused dramatically, pretending to think.

—I’m not saying I want one now, but… it wouldn’t be bad, right?

You were silent for a moment, watching the way he looked at you, with a sparkle in his eyes that made you feel a mix of nervousness and affection.

—Jude, we barely managed to organize the house after the move. Do you really think a baby would be a good idea now?

He came closer, holding your hand with both of his.

—I know it wouldn’t be easy. But, honey, just imagine… a baby with your hair and my eyes. Or with your smile.

You couldn’t help but smile shyly, even though you were trying to look serious.

—What if the baby get stubborn? Or your habit of leaving things lying around?

—Or your habit of falling asleep in the middle of the movie?

Jude replied, laughing.

You laughed together, but Jude seemed determined to keep the subject alive.

—Seriously, Y/n. I’ve always thought about it, you know? Ever since I started playing professionally. Having someone to teach, to take to games... someone to call our own.

You stayed quiet, thinking. Bellingham had a persuasive way about him, but you knew he was being sincere. Still, the thought of having a baby seemed so distant to you, with college, travel plans and the whole life you still had ahead of you.

—Jude, I know you’d be an amazing father, but... isn’t it too soon? We’re still learning to live together, to deal with life here in Madrid...

—I know. —He squeezed your hand lightly, with a soft smile. —I’m not saying it has to be now. It’s just... something for us to think about.

You sighed, but you couldn't help the warmth you felt in your chest as you imagined the scene he described. A mini Jude running around the house, with the same messy hair and that charming smile. It was a sweet thought, but still scary.

—Okay, babe. We'll think about it. But just think about it, for now, okay?

He leaned in to kiss your lips quickly, with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

—But I think we could start trying, right? Just to have practice.

—Jude Bellingham!

You said laughing as you stared at the boy in front of you.

—What, sweetie? —He said, feigning false innocence as he leaned his body over yours. —I know you like this idea as much as I do.

—Of course I do, babe, but where's the "let's think about it calmly" part?

You said, trying to stand firm with your position on the subject, but your husband's body was already on top of yours.

—Y/n, imagine our little baby here... —Jude said as he lifted your shirt and caressed your belly with his fingertips. —You're going to be the most beautiful pregnant woman in the world, babe.

You couldn't take it anymore, he talked so passionately about having a baby, the way he caressed your belly so delicately and how those brown eyes shone at you with a mischievous smile on his face.

—Then make me pregnant, Jude.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡In the Blood｡⋆.

Alfie Solomons x plus size reader

The youngest Shelby sister was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one, but apparently she’s got some secrets of her own

Warnings: shelby!reader (unspecified as to whether she was adopted or not), nudity, protective Tommy, getting caught in the act (sex, sex is the act), mentions of unplanned pregnancies and castration WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Ada knew something was wrong with her little sister- she was skittish, hiding her eyes beneath caps and behind her hair, and most telling of all, she stopped coming to family meetings. The final straw came when the elder Shelby sister sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a cold cup of tea as Karl slept in a small bassinet by her chair. He had been a pain all night so Ada had resorted to staying up, gently rocking him with her foot.

Dawn was just starting to break when the front door opened. Ada was perfectly positioned at the kitchen table to see her little sister, who had just turned 21, walk into the house dressed in a coat that was far too big to be hers with her shoes in her hands. The grin on her face was wide and dazed- Ada knew that look well. She smiled and went back to her tea.

When Y/N finally did stumble down the stairs, 10 minutes past noon, Ada and Pol lay in wait. “Good morning princess.” She groaned in reply as she took the offered painkillers from her aunt. “Have a good night?” Ada teased.

“Was fine, just had some drinks with the girls.” Pol raised a dark eyebrow at her niece. 

“Oh really. And I suppose it was one of your ‘girls’ that gave you that bruise on your neck.” Y/N’s eyes widened comically and her hand flew to her throat in an attempt to hide where her skin was discoloured. But after a moment, she sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, knowing that she was caught.

“You won’t tell Tommy will you?”

Pol patted her hand lovingly. “Tommy won’t know until you’re ready to tell him but he will find out eventually. I think you’re old enough to have a couple secrets of your own.”

“It won’t be a secret for long if you get pregnant.” Ada murmured under her breath. Y/N’s head whipped around. Her eyes had that same dangerous gleam that Tommy’s got when he was planning something big.

“I actually know how to pull out Ada.” Pol choked on her tea, giving a very undignified snort that made her youngest niece beam. 

Ada rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Accidents happen.” Y/N’s smile grew wider, her eyes scrunching with its size.

“Speaking of, where is your little accident?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Ada shot up and dashed to her little sister. Anticipating this, Y/N darted away at the last second. She bounced on her toes like she was contemplating some big decision and, flipped off her sister. 

——————

One of the few freedoms that Y/N was given in her adulthood was her own apartment, though until recently, she had not spent much time there, favouring the family home on Watery Lane. But whenever she was at her own place, there was the tiny little condition that her siblings and her aunt each had their own key, for emergencies as John and Arthur claimed. Yet they respected their sister enough not to make use of these keys, until today that is.

Tommy shuffled up to the front door, hat low on his head as the freezing rain pelted him. It had been a stupid idea, a walk to calm the storm in his mind as black clouds descended over Birmingham. So he found himself here, at the door of his youngest and arguably favourite sister. 

He jammed his finger into the doorbell, distantly hearing it ring from the partially open window above him. Yet, there was no movement inside. Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder, it was at least another hour to walk back to the Garrison, there was no way he was going home to face Pol without at least one drink. The cold metal of his keys stung his palm as he fished them from his pocket; Y/N wouldn’t mind the intrusion, in fact she’d probably feed him before sending him on his way.

His cheeks burned with the change in temperature as he stepped into the hallway. A heavy thump and then a loud groan of pain came from somewhere above his head. “Y/N?” He called out, but received no reply. 

Tommy didn’t even bother to hang up his coat, taking the stairs two at a time he reached the landing in no time and with no hesitation, he threw open the front door, hand on the butt of his gun, fully prepared to deal with whatever situation his little sister had been thrust into.

But maybe not this.

His sweet baby sister was kneeling on the floor, stark naked, her back facing him (thankfully) with an equally naked man laying between her legs, hands on her hips and an obviously broken couch behind them.

“Tommy!” She yelped, her arms darting up to cover her chest as he instinctively spun around and faced the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining. Who’s the man?” A deep chuckle soaked into the wallpaper, its familiarity almost mocking the gangster as his mood turned even more sour than it had been only minutes before. A soft slap followed, then the man’s heavy footsteps vanished into the bedroom.

“No one Tommy, just a boyfriend. You can turn around.” A greatly oversized men’s shirt concealed her body, the horrified expression on her face almost tugged at his heart strings, almost.

Tommy glared at her. “A boyfriend?” His words came out as more of a growl, his anger mounting. It was one thing for Y/N to have picked up a boy from the Garrison or at the market, as much as he hated the thought of anyone even looking at her, but to have hidden a boyfriend from the family? From him? 

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her older brother. “Yes. A boyfriend. You know, like most girls my age have.” 

“Not without my permission.” Her gaze hardened.

“I’m a grown woman Thomas.”

“Not when you keep secrets from me.” 

“Now that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. Tommy’s eye twitched. “I think more than half of the things you have said to me my entire life have been you lying to keep some secret or another. Why am I not allowed to have some of my own?” Her arms crossed over her chest, unwavering in her determination.

Tommy reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it. “That was business.”

Y/N opened her mouth to undoubtedly hit back at him with something clever that he would blame Polly for but before even a single sound had passed her lips, another voice rumbled through the small apartment, making his blood freeze. 

“Well it’s a damn good thing this was a business meetin, wasn’t it darling?” And suddenly, in his little sister’s living room, wearing only trousers and with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was Alfie Solomons. 

Tommy’s head whipped over to Y/N who now had her head in her hands. “Him?” Was all he could manage around the bubbling anger building in his throat. Alfie laughed and as if to add insult to the injury, wrapped a large arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She refused to look at her brother, fixing her eyes firmly to the floor like she used to do when caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Alfie was practically beaming, gloating. “She’s done a very good job at keeping me secret from you. Even got me to hide in a fucking supply cubbord once.” A vein in Tommy’s head throbbed as he laid a palm over the butt of his gun.. “But ey, you must be proud, passing on those strong genes. She’ll be runnin circles around you in no time.”

“Alfie, I will fucking kill you.” She pleaded.

“It’s in the blood ain’t it? Can’t even imagine how sneaky our kids are gonna be considering our tendency to tell a little fib.”

“I’ll castrate you before that ever happens.” Tommy growled and finally pulled his gun clear of the holster but Alfie didn’t even flinch. In fact the man’s eyes sparkled with vindication.

“See, all in the blood.”

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[runnning-outof-time]

The Brother That Always Wins | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, with hints of John Shelby and Arthur Shelby trying their hand at flirting with the reader

Summary: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

Warnings: language, drinking, terribly written flirting

Word Count: 4350

A/N: this story turned into an absolute ride, one that I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. It’s a bit of controlled chaos…I hope you’re ready for it. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"The fuck are you grinnin' for?" John Shelby asked as soon as his brother, Arthur entered the snug. He couldn't help himself, his older sibling's grin was able to be seen from a mile away.

"I just helped the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in me life," Arthur proudly answered, his chest jutting out slightly as he spoke.

"Helped in what way, eh?" Tommy questioned, his one eyebrow raised. He'd been reading the newspaper and keeping to himself, only half-listening as John talked away about whatever, but he couldn't deny that he was interested in what Arthur had to say.

"I bet you he just stood there and gawked at her!" John chimed in before Arthur could respond, a smug grin on his face.

"I did not!" Arthur snapped back at his younger sibling, sending a glare his way, "I had a bloody conversation with her and all!"

"What happened?" Tommy asked another question, slowly losing his patience as he waited.

"So she was walkin' with a box, right? A big ass box...one that's too big for a lady like her to be carryin’. But she was walkin' with it. And so I was watchin' her from across the road, because she was goin' the same way I was. We must've walked for some time, how long I don't remember. Anyways, she gets to this one stretch and she trips...loses her fuckin' balance or something. All of the things in the box go flyin'. So I did what any man does and ran 'cross the street to help her. We put all the shit back into the box and then when she looked up at me, I thought I was gonna die on the spot. She was so fuckin' beautiful, lads. Shy, and sweet, and just fuckin'...gorgeous. I swear to you that if she would've..."

"Get on with the story, Arthur," Tommy interjected into Arthur's tangent, making him snap out of the attraction-riddled daze that he was quickly slipping into.

"Yeah, right," Arthur nodded, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall where he was. "She was actin' so shy and thankin' me for helpin' her clean the stuff up that I couldn't but just be, fuckin'..."

"Arthur," Tommy said in a warning tone.

"I'm gettin' on with it," he brushed his brother off before continuing, "I couldn't help but not want to leave her. So I asked her where she was goin' and she said to the school. That was out of my way, but I didn't fuckin' care. I carried her things to the school she went on with thankin' me again. She was so fuckin' gorgeous and...shit, boys, I think I might be in love," he finished up his story, continuing on with it despite the scoffs or stiffled laughter coming from his brothers.

"You said she was going to the school?" John asked a question once it was clear that Arthur was finished with his story.

"Yeah...she's a fuckin' teacher, mate. Even better," Arthur grinned.

"Did you get her name?" John asked another question.

"Course I did!" Arthur responded like it was obvious.

Silence fell in the snug then, the three men looking between each other. John waited on bated breath for a few moments before it became obvious that Arthur wasn't going to say it without being prompted. "What was it?"

"(Y/N), I think it was," Arthur recalled, his answer making John choke out a weird sound, one that seemed to be a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "What?"

"She's Katie's fuckin' teacher, mate!" John exclaimed, his declaration making Arthur's eyes widen. "She is fuckin' gorgeous, I'll tell you that," he then agreed with Arthur, a wide grin now plastered across his face.

John and Arthur then went about talking about her after Arthur prompted his younger sibling to tell him all that he knew about her. Tommy sat in his chair, half reading the paper and half listening to their conversation. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by his brothers' stories, and everything they said about her made him want to go and meet her for himself even more.

"Can I help you?" (Y/N) (Y/L/N) asked the man that she swore appeared in her doorway out of nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive looking three-piece suit with an equally as expensive looking overcoat over top of it, as well as a peaked cap atop his head.

"I'm looking for (Y/N)," the man answered.

"You found her," (Y/N) smiled, setting her book down on the desk to give the man her full attention. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was directed to you by the front office. They said you're in charge of the donations?"

"That depends...if you're looking to donate to the building, you'll need to speak with our headmaster, but if you're looking to donate directly to the children, you can speak to me," she explained with a smile. She was proud to have been named the head of the board that made sure the children in the school had the tools they needed in order to thrive in the learning environment.

"I'm looking to donate to the children."

"Then you're in the right place," she chirped, "you can come over here and we'll get into the details of it," she said then, waving him over to her desk.

He finally entered the room, and as he walked over, (Y/N) felt the commanding aura that swirled around him. It wasn't one that made her scared, but rather one that filled her with intrigue.

"Can I have the name for the donation?" she asked once she had a piece of paper and a pencil ready.

"It's Thomas Shelby," he answered her, watching as realization sparked in her eyes. He couldn't help but think that Arthur was absolutely right - for once in his life...she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Shelby? I have a student whose last name is Shelby."

"Katie?" Tommy questioned, even though he already knew who she was talking about.

"Yes!" (Y/N) happily answered, "Katie's such a lovely girl. Who is she to you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She's my niece," he shared, his words making her nod in understanding.

"What sort of donation would you like to make, Mr. Shelby?" she asked then, the pencil ready in her hand.

"I'd like to make it so that all of the children in the year you teach have whatever they need to excel in their classes," he answered, speaking in a nonchalant tone.

"Oh...my goodness," she gasped, stopping what she was writing as the weight of his statement finally clicked in her mind.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that..." she trailed off, unable to put her thoughts properly into words, "no one has made such a generous donation before."

"I like to make sure that others benefit from the wealth I've gained," he told her in an assured tone. Well that was one of the reasons why he'd made such a donation.

"I...uh, goodness, I don't even know where to start," she confessed, still genuinely baffled by his generosity. "Usually I'd go through with the person donating and we'd make a list of where the funds can be allocated, but with your overwhelming donation, I'm not sure I know what to do first," she added, a sheepish smile present on her face when she looked up at him again.

"It's nothing you'd need to have done in a hurry," he told her, showing that he wasn't upset by her unsuredness.

"I'd hate to waste your time now and make you wait..." she trailed off, biting on the end of the pencil as she tried to think of some ways his funds could be used.

Spending time with you would not be time wasted, Tommy thought to himself just as an idea came to mind: "what if we go for dinner at the end of the week? You can have time to think of ideas and you'll share them with me then," he proposed, his eyebrows raising slightly as he awaited her response.

(Y/N) took a moment to think about his proposition. It'd certainly be a good idea for her to have more time to think about it, and she couldn't say that she'd be opposed to having dinner with this man. "Dinner sounds nice," she gave her answer after a few moments had passed, "I'll come prepared with good ideas," she assured him with a smile.

"I'm sure whatever ideas you'll bring will interest me," Tommy told her, nodding once before he took a step back towards the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. It's a great pleasure to have you working with us," (Y/N) smiled, still truly overwhelmed by his generosity.

"The pleasure's mine, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but let a smile break onto his lips as he looked over her one last time. They said their goodbyes then, and Tommy exited the school. He was genuinely pleased with the fact that she'd agreed to have dinner with him. It was certainly a step in the right direction with her.

John Shelby entered the school that his children attended two days after his brother did. He was unsuccessful in finding someone who could help direct him to the room he wanted to visit, but thankfully found the woman he was looking for as she walked towards the main doors from down a hallway.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her, hoping to get her attention.

To his luck, she heard him. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, one that made John feel like he was going to go weak at the knees.

"Yes. You're my daughter's teacher. Her name's Katie Shelby. I wanted to ask how she's been doing in class," he told her the reason behind him being there. Truthfully he couldn't care less about Katie's performance. School wasn't something he was ever interested in, but if it meant he'd be able to talk to an utterly gorgeous woman, he'd give the performance of the century.

"Oh Katie!" (Y/N) answered, her smile growing wider as she recalled one of her students, "she's amazing...such a pleasure to have in class. She's always working hard and staying on top of her assignments," she then gave him a run down on his daughter's performance.

John nodded as she spoke. He had no shame in the fact that he was only half listening to her answer; being too preoccupied with drinking in her appearance. Silence fell between them then as that topic of conversation passed quickly. John didn't want her to leave just yet, so he scrambled for another talking point. "I heard that you met my brother, Arthur, the other day," he said then. It wasn't his best choice of topic, but he hoped it would keep her around. His hopes fell when a look of confusion formed on her pretty face. Shit, John...save yourself here! "He, uh...he told me that he helped you with one of your boxes...?" he ended his statement like it was a question, hoping that she'd show some sort of recollection.

Realization did appear on her face, but the sentence that accompanied it was one that left John confused: "oh...it seems I've met two of your brothers," she informed him, effectively making him wear the same expression she had moments ago. She took the time to explain then: "Thomas came in a few days ago to arrange a generous donation to aid the children who come here."

Fucks sake. John couldn't help but sigh internally. Tommy had already sunk his paws into the territory John thought he'd have a leg up in. "Oh he did?" he decided to play it cool, hoping that his aggravation didn't bubble up to the surface.

"He did. The other teachers and I are all so thankful for the contribution," (Y/N) answered, her smile telling John that he was doing well at masking how he was really feeling.

"Well I'm happy to hear that," John stated, running a hand over his face as he tried to think of a way to divert the conversation away from Tommy. "I can't say enough how happy I am that my daughter has a wonderful, smart, caring teacher like yourself," he said then, deciding to go the compliment route. There were many other things he wanted to include while referring to her, but he didn't want to overdo it.

"Awe thank you, Mr. Shelby. As I've said before, Katie is such a pleasure to have in class," (Y/N) accepted the compliment with grace, a bashful smile forming on her face.

Silence fell around them for a few beats before John spoke again: "you're probably wantin' to get home, so I should probably go," he stated, nodding his head back towards the main doors of the school.

"Oh yes, it's certainly been a long day," she answered with a nod.

"I'll see you around sometime then," John began to say his goodbyes.

"You certainly will," (Y/N) sent him one last smile before John turned and exited the school.

John was thankful to see the majority of his family sitting around the main table of the betting shop when he entered it that evening.

"Where've you been, John Boy?" Arthur asked, everyone's eyes following John as he made his way to an open chair.

"I just left the school," John answered, his face straight as he spoke.

"The school?" Arthur questioned.

"Something happen with one of the children?" Polly asked, her brows furrowed.

"No, everything's fine with them," John quelled her concern.

"Why were you at the school then?" Polly asked another question.

"Ah I know...you were tryin' to see the hot teacher, huh?" Arthur chimed in before John could answer, a grin now present on his face.

John shot a glare in his brother's direction, slightly annoyed by the fact that he was a little too anxious to know. But with all of the eyes in the room on him, he figured he may as well give up. "Yeah, I went to see her."

"Did ya talk to her?" Arthur eagerly asked.

John didn't miss Polly's eyeroll before he answered his brother: "yeah, I did...and I was told that Tommy already went and talked to her." He couldn't help but glance at Tommy from the corner of his eye, seeing if his statement roused any type of reaction from him.

"Why would you have gone to talk to the childrens' teacher, Thomas?" Polly was the one to ask, her eyes now zeroed in on him.

"She told me that he wanted to make a donation to the school," John offered more information, a sour tone still present in his voice.

"Tommy," Polly sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead.

"We've arranged to have dinner one of these upcoming evenings to discuss it further," Tommy nonchalantly shared more details of his meeting with (Y/N).

"Bloody hell, Tommy," Arthur grumbled, a frown on his face as he shook his head. He'd have no chance in hell with her now.

"Why was this not brought up in a family meeting?" Polly asked a sensible question, seemingly unaware of the brothers' reason behind their responses.

"Because I have decided that we need to start putting back into the city," Tommy answered, an authoritative tone laced into his voice.

"And you thought that the school would be the most logical place to start?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"You're putting yourself into places you shouldn't be...if this blows up in your face, I won't be here for it," Polly spoke in a firm tone, showing her distaste for his decision.

Tommy held his gaze on her, an uninterested look present in his eyes. He didn't quite care what his aunt had to say about this, he was going to continue on how he saw fit.

Polly held his gaze, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and let out a scoff before turning and stalking over to the door. She stopped before she could grab the handle, abruptly turning to look at the three men sitting at the table. "If any of you make her cry or so much as hurt a single strand of hair on her head..." she paused, pursing her lips as she shook her head slightly, "you will have hell to pay." Her voice was flat, but her tone was serious, and she let no one respond before she opened the door and exited the betting shop.

"Ms. Gray, it's so nice to see you again," (Y/N) said with a smile as she found the older woman standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Is everything ok with Katie? We missed her in class today."

"Katie's fine," Polly quelled the teacher's worry, "she was feeling ill so she stayed home."

"Oh, ok. I hope she gets better soon," (Y/N) offered her regards with a smile, one that Polly reciprocated. "Is there something that you need?"

"Yes," Polly didn't beat around the bush, "my nephew, Tommy, came to speak with you the other day..." she began, trailing off in hopes that (Y/N) would continue.

"Yes, he did!" she took the bait without question, "he made a very generous donation, and then suggested we have dinner to work the smaller points of it out."

"And how did that go?" Polly asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," (Y/N) smiled in response, "the children are already benefiting from the money he's given. It was very kind of him to do this."

Nothing Tommy Shelby has done was done just for the sake of 'being kind', Polly thought to herself as she mentally scoffed at the younger woman's statement. "I'm happy to hear that the children are benefitting from it," Polly said in response, keeping her thoughts on her nephew's intentions to herself.

(Y/N) smiled in response, completely overjoyed by the kindness of the Shelby family that she was oblivious to even the mere thought of Tommy having other intentions behind his decision to donate. Nothing else was said then as the women exchanged parting words.

(Y/N) smoothed out her dress as she reached the doors of the establishment. She hoped that the outfit she chose didn't make her over, or under, dressed for the occasion. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, the sounds of chatter and music smacking her in the face. She entered the pub with a smile, hoping to quickly find a familiar face.

Of course one of the Shelbys quickly found her at the door. It was their re-opening party after all, and a beautiful woman like (Y/N) was most certainly not going to go unnoticed.

"Oi, you came!" Arthur was the first of the brothers to spot her, and a big grin was plastered across his face as he moved over to greet her.

"Yes! This place looks lovely!" she answered, smiling as she looked around the room.

"We made sure to get the best of the best," he boasted, his grin still present. "And speakin' of the best...can I offer one of the best women I've seen a drink?" he smoothly transitioned, his one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.

"I'd love one, thank you," she answered, smiling at his kindness.

"Come on then," he stated, offering her his arm so that he could lead her to the bar.

She accepted it, walking over to an open seat so that he could go around the bar and get her a drink. She thanked him again when he set it down in front of her, and just as he leaned up against the bar, ready to chat with her, Isiah came to him with a matter of business. He left her with a slight frown and an 'excuse me, love,' before going off with the younger man. (Y/N) sat by herself, sipping her drink and enjoying the revelry around her. She wasn't alone for long though.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)...I didn't think I'd see you here," shock was present in John Shelby's voice as he came up beside her.

"I decided to stop in and see what all of the talk was about," she smiled at him.

"Well we're certainly happy to have you here," he grinned at her, trying so hard not to give her a once over. "Say why don't you come and share a dance with me?" he suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't," she turned down his offer, her shyness creeping in.

"Come on...a quick dance wouldn't hurt," he didn't quite give up hope.

"I'm rather terrible at dancing."

"You've not seen me dance then."

(Y/N) bit her lip to conceal her giggles, surprised with how forward he was.

"Come on..." John coaxed her, hand outstretched in her direction. She was hesitant, but accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine," he said, assuming the position before he began to lead her in a similar dance to what the other partygoers were doing.

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile as she danced around the floor with John. She certainly was having fun, not really thinking about what she looked like or what others thought. John couldn't believe that he was dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room.

They danced for about two songs before (Y/N) excused herself, wanting to go have a seat. John allowed her to go, deciding that he'd go into the snug and check on Finn - who he knew was sneaking stronger drinks than what his brothers originally told him he could have.

(Y/N) found a newly opened seat at the bar as soon as she came to it. She was bummed that her drink had been lost, but she didn't need to worry about that for too long.

"You made it," Tommy Shelby's voice came from her left, making her turn slightly to see him approaching her from behind the bar.

"I did, thanks for inviting me," (Y/N) smiled at him, "this party's amazing!" she commented, glancing around the room.

"It is," Tommy agreed once she focused on him again, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Please," she smiled kindly at the offer, watching as he went about grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "I wanted to also thank you, again, for the dinner and the donation. The children have already gotten some of the supplies that we've received, and they're loving them," she shared some information once he came back with a glass for her.

"That's good news," he nodded, taking a drink from his glass then. "You know I was thinking maybe...maybe you and I could have dinner again, without the need to talk about the donations this time," he proposed, watching her intently as he waited for a response.

(Y/N) couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up at his suggestion. She had a lovely time with him at their first dinner. "I'd like that," she answered with a smile.

"Figured we could get to know each other better."

"That would be lovely," she agreed, giggling slightly at the fact that he was practically reading her mind.

The two then went about planning the dinner, agreeing on a time and place. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy when he suggested a restaurant that was far more classy than the first place they'd met. If she wasn't excited before...she certainly was now.

As they spoke more, Polly Gray kept a close eye on them from across the room. She'd been watching the brothers all evening as they tried their hand at her. It became clear to her, though, that Tommy had ended out on top as she watched them converse at the bar. She could easily tell from how (Y/N) was invested in their conversation, giggling and leaning closer to him when he'd speak, that what he was doing was being received well. John and Arthur wouldn't have much of a chance now.

-One Year Later-

Slowly, Tommy lifted the veil up to reveal (Y/N)'s smiling face. He draped it over her head and let his eyes dance across her features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt the joy radiating from her.

"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Michael Shelby," the officiant began, commanding the attention of everyone in the church.

Ever since the evening of the party at the Garrison, (Y/N) and Tommy found themselves wrapped up in a whirlwind of a romance. Tommy proposed after five months of them being together, knowing that he wasn't going to find another woman like her. They spent five months being engaged and doing a great amount of traveling - it was the summer holiday for (Y/N), so she was able to follow Tommy wherever he went. Now they were standing at the altar in front of a great number of guests who were anxiously waiting to see them pronounce their love for each other.

Well...two of the guests weren’t exactly anxious. John and Arthur sat on Tommy's side of the church, watching as the ceremony commenced. Both were happy for their brother, but they'd be lying if they said that they weren't bummed that it wasn't them up with (Y/N).

Everyone stood up and celebrated as the officiant pronounced Tommy and (Y/N) 'man and wife', and they shared their first kiss as a married couple.

"As always..." John started, elbowing Arthur in the ribcage as they both clapped for their brother, "Tommy gets the girl, and we've gotta sit back and watch."

Arthur couldn't help but snort as he heard what John had to say. "You're right, John boy," he agreed, shaking his head but nonetheless continuing clapping.

No matter what happened, or how hard John and Arthur tried to get ahead, Tommy would forever be the brother that always wins.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[mickyschumacher]

[I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it's been more than eight months since you and jobe broke up. that should be plenty of time to move on. but out of all the cafes in birmingham, you and jobe meet at your favourite on valentine's day.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, slightly angsty but not really, reader is a student, mentions of a break up obviously, not much too do with the titular song sorryyy, incase it's not obvious, the fic goes in and out of the past (italics), honestly just two young kids in love

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jobe bellingham x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.5k

𝐀/𝐍: the fourth fic of my series! i thought this was the cutest one to write bc it's just young puppy love and i love everything about it. hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You were young. You had your whole life ahead of you. Or so everybody says. 

“Life’s too short to stay caught up in the past. Live in the present.” 

“There will always be someone better. Something better. Don’t reminisce about the past. Think about what will come to you.” 

But it’s because you were young...  how could you ever forget the first boy you ever fell in love with?  

Eight months and seven days ago, you broke up with Jobe (not that you were counting or anything.) Eight months was long, but it wasn’t that long. You could still feel his touch, his smell... feel him all around you. 

Some days were more difficult than others. The busier it was, the easier it was to forget that you were ever in a relationship. But sometimes, all it took was the notification of your phone to remind you.  

You stood outside a familiar scene, contemplating everything as you stared hard at the building. It was your café. Your and Jobe’s. The place where you and Jobe met. The place where you and Jobe hung out together every day because there was no other place like it.  

Your eyes fell to their sign board, red and pink chalk hearts capturing your attention as much as the lovely ‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ sprawled across the black canvas.  

You really shouldn’t be here. Not today out of all days. But even though you had purposely gotten home through a different route to avoid this very café for the past eight months, your body seemed to remember.  

Trying not to think too much, you walked in, immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.  

You hadn’t met Jobe at this point. You knew nothing about him. But the moment you had walked into the café, your eyes almost naturally diverted to the corner of the building. And there you were met with the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen.  

You didn’t know it yet, but it would soon become your favourite shade of brown in the world.  

Hesitantly, you looked over at the corner where it all began. You knew Jobe wouldn’t be there. But you couldn’t help being left with disappointment. The corner table was instead taken by a small family.  

Quietly, you peered at the cabinets of sweets. Pistachio croissants, red velvet cookies, lemon and lime cheesecakes... some of the staples of the café. You and Jobe had tried every single one of them, reviewing them in depth. Both of your favourites were the raspberry and white chocolate blondie. It was what you both chose when you first met. And to your rotten luck, you watched it get pulled onto a plate. With a small pout, your eyes followed the server, unable to look away from the dessert.  

But that was a minor distraction compared to the distraction waiting at the table being served. 

You think your eyes are deceiving you.  

That same shade of brown eyes stared back at you. Once upon a time, you were able to read them from afar. But you couldn’t remember how to. Was it disbelief? Doubt? Perhaps shock?  

You weren’t sure when or how, but your feet had managed to inch their way to his table.  

“Jobe,” you breathed out, unsure of how long it had been since you had last said his name. 

Jobe blinked, shaking his head slightly to break his trance. He cleared his throat, calling your name as he always called it. You remembered how he repeated it when you first introduced yourself to him... like he was already in love with you.  

He gestured to the chair next to you. “You can take a seat,” Jobe mumbled towards the end, hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.  

As you took a seat, you wanted to say something, hell anything, but you couldn’t find the words. You were pretty sure you were dreaming right now.  

“Do you want me to order you your coffee? Half strength cappuccino with cinnamon, right?” Jobe asked, standing up from his seat.  

“Oh–uh, just a hot chocolate, please,” you tightly smiled, fingers fidgeting underneath the table.  

You could see Jobe furrow his brows, wanting to say something but instead he nodded slowly and went towards the front till. As he ordered, you debated a little bit of everything.  

What were you doing right now? If you were indeed dreaming, was this a sign of some sort of identity crisis? Because dreaming about your ex on Valentine’s Day was a new low for you. If this is real, maybe you could sneak out of here. He probably wouldn’t notice. All you had to do was stand up and just– 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Jobe asked, taking his seat back in front of you.  

You pursed your lips. “Not really. I’m trying to lean off of it these days.” 

Jobe nodded again slowly, processing what you said. He didn’t know this part of you. All he knew of you was the year you spent together and the past you shared. This... it’s like he wasn’t caught up with you anymore. And he hated it.  

You disliked silence. It was a known fact. You always had. It was unbearable. Like a loud clock ticking over your shoulder. So, Jobe wasn’t surprised went you spoke up a few seconds after he had finished.  

“Mum asked about you the other day,” you blurted, eyes quickly  

The corners of Jobe’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah?” He queried, ears paying extra attention.  

You nodded, pulling on your sleeves. “She found your football boots in the garage. The blue ones. She said she misses you.” 

“I miss her too,” Jobe smiled softly. His eyes flickered out the window before coming back to you. “Do you?” 

You raised a brow, ignoring the thump of your heart in your chest. “Miss my mum?” You asked even though you knew that’s not what he meant. 

Jobe laughed to himself, resting in his chair comfortably. “You know what I mean.”  

You opened you mouth to speak as your large cup of hot chocolate was placed before you. Jobe watched you smile widely at staff, thanking them and God did it send his heart running.  

“If you had to choose, what is one thing you like about me?” Jobe queried, looking down at your face as you rested on his lap.  

You pretended to mull over the question even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to feel his hands in your hair for a little longer. “Your eyes,” you decided. 

“My eyes?” Jobe repeated, eyes already crinkling as his smile widened. “What’s so special about my eyes?”  

“They’re my favourite shade of brown. I love looking into them. They’re so warm and calm, filled with so much love and yet they make me so nervous,” you murmured, cheeks heating up as a comfortable silence fell between the both of you.   

Jobe couldn’t help but grin at your shy smile. He pushed the hairs out of your face, taking a good look at you. “Is that why you always look away?” 

Bingo. He had caught you red-handed.  

“Obviously,” you muttered, unable to look at him any longer. “If I could, I would stare at you for forever. But I can’t. So, I just do it when you can’t see,” you shrugged.  

Jobe smiled, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “I love you,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you sighed, hands warming around your cup of hot chocolate. “You’ve never left my mind. Not that you ever could,” you admitted quietly.  

“I’ll take that,” Jobe sat forward, arms resting on the table. “You miss me,” he teased, smile widening.  

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before you put in the marshmallows on the side. Mixing the cup gently, you watched Jobe push forward the raspberry and white chocolate blondie to towards you.  

“You’re first bite. Go on,” he nudged, nodding to the plate.  

You sighed, knowing very well he wasn’t going to start eating unless you did. You grabbed a spoon, taking the corner side of the blondie. As soon as it entered your mouth, you were positive you had died and gone to heaven. “Oh my God, how they do it?” You asked to no one particularly.  

Jobe, who had also grabbed a bite, nodded in agreement. “I know right? How they get the balance so good? Not too sweet and not too sour. We still haven’t figured out what white chocolate they use.” 

“My money’s still on Hamilton’s. Ooh, or maybe Montezumas! Their chocolate buttons were so good the last time you brought them,” you pointed out, still mulling over the thought.  

Jobe stared at you quietly, watching everything fall back to its normal pace for a brief second. The one where you talked and he listened. The one where he absorbed as much of you as he could.  

“What about me?” You asked, turning your head gently to the side. “What’s one thing you like about me?” 

Jobe’s fingers slowly caressed your face as he pretended to think because he also knew his answer. “Everything,” he softly responded.

Your brows furrowed. “Everything? That’s not one thing,” you complained, reaching out to hit his shoulder gently. 

A laugh fell from Jobe’s lips. “It is,” he maintained, “everything about you makes me nervous. Every time I look at you, your smile, your eyes, your kindness... your essence makes me feel like the whole world is collapsing.” 

Reality hit, however, when Jobe recalled your breakup. Eight months and seven days ago (not that he was counting either), you both had reached a breaking point.  

You both knew it was coming. The past few days had been tense. You hadn’t seen each other as much. Jobe could barely see you smile and he hated it. And the warmth in Jobe’s eyes were replaced with exhaustion.  

You were both sat in your room in silence. Another thing you usually hated but it seemed you were trying resist it, allowing minutes to pass.  

“I think we should break up.” 

Your voice, although quiet, was resounding. It was like you had announced it in a stadium. It was echoing back to your ears and making your heart beat thud and your hands clammy.  

“I...” Jobe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to agree with you. But he knew it was right.  

You let out a tired sigh. “Jobe, how long are we going to go on like this? Hmm? How long are we going to pretend our lives aren’t in the way of our relationship? You’re always at training. And I’m always studying. I can’t reschedule another date... another birthday.” 

Jobe closed his eyes at your words. His body burned with anger and annoyance. He had rescheduled your birthday dinner not once, not twice but four times because he had training.  

You understood Jobe. He was new to Sunderland and he didn’t want to mess anything up. Not with him carrying the Bellingham name. Not with all the eyes watching him. But even that had a limit.  

“I don’t think this is our time, Jobe,” you croaked, throat breaking as hot tears welled up in your eyes.  

Jobe could feel his heart shatter. He hated seeing you sad. Fuck, he hated it so much. But the truth was loud in his ears.  

He couldn’t make you happier. He couldn’t make the time. 

You couldn’t compromise any longer. You couldn’t make the time. 

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if the chocolate was from Sainsbury or Aldi’s or something?” You joked, bringing Jobe back to reality once again.  

Jobe looked at you quietly before blurting, “I’m sorry.” 

You paused, smile dropping off of your face. “Huh? All of a sudden?” 

Jobe sighed before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I never made time for you. I’m sorry for rescheduling your damn birthday out of all things. And most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us more.” 

You sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting your heart to ache so abruptly. You tried looking into his eyes, but all you could do was focus on the floating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, all slowly disappearing. 

Your eyes burned on the brink of crying but for some odd reason... you couldn’t. 

“Do you know what it means to live, Jobe?” 

Your question sent Jobe into a flurry of confusion. “I don’t... I, uh–” 

“To live life is to be in the moment. To take joy and sorrow in all we have. Living means to never take anything for granted.” You breathed in, slowly moving your eyes to his. There it was. Your favourite shade of brown. No exhaustion in sight. Just warmth, calm... love. 

“I don’t think I started living until I met you.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but sit back and truly take you in. Your eyes shook, clearly nervous, but you voice was firm, clear on what you had said. He was sure there’d be times in the future, but right now, you were making him the most nervous he had ever been in his entire life.  

You looked like love.  

You looked like the love of his life–heck, you were love of his life.  

“These past eight months... listen, I know the last few days before our break up sucked but,” your breath hitched while tears officially began welling in your eyes, “these eight months and seven days have been miserable.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but laugh softly at your words as he bent forward, wiping away your stray tears. You had also been counting.  

“I’m in love with you,” Jobe confessed, hand caressing your cheek, “I always have been. And I always will. Please give us, me, a second chance.” 

Your eyes softened at his words, mouth about to open to respond when his voice cut you off. “Unless you’re in a relationship–shit, wait, I forgot to ask you that. You aren’t, are you? Not in like a bad way because like people would be crazy not to ask you out but–” 

“Jobe!” You interrupted; eyes wide with amusement. You could hear him go quiet making you laugh softly to yourself. “I’m not in a relationship,” you confirmed.  

A big sigh of relief fell from Jobe’s lips, shoulders dropping now that he was tension-free. He sat back in his chair, muttering something about how thankful he was to the universe.  

You cleared your throat, gaining his attention once again. “And for the record...” You started, grabbing his hand from across the table. Instantly, he tightened his grip around, afraid you’d let go. “I’d love to give us a second chance. And I promise I’ll make time. We’ll figure this out together, hmm?” 

Those lovely brown eyes you had fallen in love with shone and you doubt anyone would believe you, but you think he’s on the brink of crying. Jobe smiled, holding your hands close to him. “Does this count as a second date?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You better be joking,” you teased.  

“But this is where we first met!” Jobe retorted, grin playing on his lips. 

You furrowed your brows. “What were you doing here anyways? It’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Honestly?” Jobe asked, receiving your nod. “I was going to cheer myself up with this raspberry blondie. And then I saw you.”  

You smiled widely. “It’s like the first day we met all over again.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[istherewifiinhell]

Incase anyone other than joelle cares the two kids have been judged as maybe from manchester or yorkshire. That general region. With a bunch of accent vids offered as supporting evidence lmao.

V every time i see a vid like that im always checking the comments to see if a british person is going use their powers to geolocate from accent. And everytime someone doesnt it makes me sad.

[da-rulah]

So yesterday I got home from my Skeletour weekend, and I have some thoughts...

*MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT*

I went to both the London and Birmingham rituals, with London being my first ever ritual. I went in with basically no knowledge of what had happened at previous dates (how the fuck I avoided so many spoilers I just don't know) and I'm so glad I did, because the emotional rollercoaster of night one in London with every twist and turn... I'll mostly talk about my London ritual step by step, and add some notes about Birmingham where there were differences. Let's get into it.

Myself and my friends queued from 11am at the venue, and managed to get about 5-6 rows from the barrier just slightly off centre to the left. A STUNNING view for my first ritual... In Birmingham we arrived at around 4, and we still managed to get about 3-4 rows from the front on the left hand side, right in front of the left platform.

Now...Peacefield?! Peacefield... it's giving Separate Ways by Journey in all of the right ways, and my god, what a hopeful song. I could barely hear the lyrics, I was too busy crying the second Papa walked on stage. Part of me is glad I didn't know the song, it gave me a chance to have my moment just watching him and sobbing. But despite it being a ballsy move to open with a song no one knows, just know this - it is an opener. If you haven't heard it, you'll hear it later on today when they drop it. Wow.

And then we dove straight into Lachryma, which just lends itself perfectly to a live performance. The key change? Delectable.

What I wasn't expecting, was Spirit... Are you... fucking joking?! You're gonna play Spirit for the first time since 2018 with no warning?! His long note at the end, held perfectly... The crescendo, the build throughout, then the crowd joining in with "SPIRIT!" and "ABSINTHE!"

He dropped Pinnacle and replaced it with Faith, which I was unaware of not having seen the setlist beforehand, so the second I heard the intro I prepared myself for that growl - not disappointed. Ho-ly fuck. And to hear the "Faith... is... mine, motherFUCKERS!" live?! Sedate me. You need to SEDATE me.

Just as the crowd goes quiet, Phantom wanders over to the middle and splits the crowd in two, making us battle it out for which side is the loudest. From what I remember, my side (the left) was the loudest at both shows, and his reaction to it was always such a treat. But Phantom handled the crowd so well and it really says a lot about him that even through the mask, with no words at all, he can command thousands of people like that.

And then Majesty.

To begin with, I couldn't see Papa at all where we were stood in London, because he was rising behind the drum kit. We had a much clearer view in Birmingham. But when I first saw him in the full regalia, I was just in awe. Majesty is such a grand song and the way he performed it lording over the crowd like that was spectacular. His animatronic-style choreography was fantastic and I can't explain how it worked so well, it just DID. I'm not totally sold that it's actually him doing it, as he doesn't have his handheld mic and I couldn't for the life of me see if he had a Britney-esque mic, plus the screen footage is definitely pre-recorded (you can tell because the movements weren't always spot on with what was happening live, but most of the time they were). The vocals are definitely live though, which is what makes me think he has a double for this (which we see during Umbra, but I'll get on that a little later...) After Majesty, he comes back out without the robes on, and he asks the crowd if they're warm - which yes, we bloody were. And he said he too was feeling a little steamy... In this cocky, flirty way that had me wanting to drop to my knees, if we're being totally honest here... He continues his little speech, but I can't remember what he said after that, I was quite distracted, but probably something about things burning and he transitioned into the Future is a Foreign Land. In Birmingham, he asked us if we were going to be nice to him because he was new, and if we would be gentle with him. Half the crowd (our side) said no, the other yes, and he told us to fight it out in the parking lot after. He told our side off for being mean. Rude.

TFIAFL is beautiful live. I don't know what else I can say about it, really. Everyone singing it together is such a vibe, and I do love how he changed the lyrics to "2034" to prevent it from being outdated. (although side note: he forgot he was supposed to do that in B'ham..."

We got the Devil Church instrumental as the Grucifix lighting rig raises which is a moment within itself, to be honest. You imagine the that choral singing watching it raise - so simple, but stunning.

And then Cirice. Listen, nothing compares to feeling that guitar riff in the pit of your stomach and just knowing what's coming. I've always loved the way they start Cirice so dark with just the one guitar - It's so ominous and feels like a tease as a builds. It's a song that never disappoints and not only does he cirice someone in the crowd, but the camera picks him up very well too, just like in RHRN so the whole arena can feel that stare... He blew kisses to the people he ciriced, but in Birmingham he chose someone on our side and we could see clearly that he held that kiss for a LONG time before he blew it...

Darkness at the Heart of my Love... Let's just say, my friend behind me leaned forward and said "here we go..." before it started and when it did, I got what he meant. I burst into tears again. That song touches a nerve for me anyway in a very personal way - those lyrics feel very close to home around a loss I suffered when I was young, and so I just sobbed so hard I couldn't even sing. Thank god for @angellayercake squeezing my hand the whole time. It was beautiful.

Then the fucker gave me WHIPLASH by kicking off Satanized. No time to dry the tears, I just had to sing along with the streaks on my face. The crowd shouting "BLASPHEMY!" and "HERESY!" at him... *chefs kiss*. And his reactions to them too! It was like he was curling back from us, feeling that shame that so many people with any kind of religious trauma can relate to. In London, Ryan (photographer Ryan, we love him) got a shot of the crowd and I can just see myself, @angellayercake and @her-satanic-wiles screaming/singing along with our mouths WIDE open. Rightly so, for Papa. (It's the attached photo above - if you know what I look like, you may just find me...)

Ritual is a banger and one that almost feels like it has to be on every tour - it's literally what we're all right there to do. But to scream the prayer along with Papa, with a resounding "NEMA!" at the end? Feels spectacular.

Umbra... Listen, if I'm gonna tell you one thing about Papa Perpetua's personality, it's that he is NOT fucking shy! This song confirmed it. Nothing shy about this man, he literally framed his dick with his hands when he sang the lyrics "I put my faith in you" (I may have misheard the exact lyric, but it's definitely 'I put my ---- in you'). He is horny. And he's a lil' arrogant with it, too... It's hot. He comes up from the stage on the right with a cowbell in his hands, seemingly confused that he's been given this and hands it over to Swiss who kicks off the beat. During the last chorus, he's running around the back of the stage from side to side, and I noticed very quickly that that... wasn't Papa. I turned to @angellayercake and said "That's not him... Look at his thighs!" And low and behold, the thighs, the arms, the chest, were all far to bulky to be Papa. Obviously it was the thighs that gave him away to me. I know them fucking thighs. You think I'm a horny smut writer and don't know what his thighs look like?! Nah. That wasn't him, but he was singing backstage while he was getting dressed in time for Year Zero...

Let's talk about the cassock. Black and purple, yes, stunning, but the motherfucking chrome skeletal detail on the back? WITH A TAIL!? Sweet Satan, that's a fucking cool outfit. I am ashamed to admit that I couldn't help the intrusive thought to shout "WAG YOUR TAIL, PAPA!" - luckily my brain stopped my mouth before I could. Anyway... Year Zero is far more powerful live than you can imagine, if you haven't already experienced it yourself. He walked like a robot again to get to centre stage when he came on, and it just works so well. The mechanical thing? It's very foreboding...

The stained glass in the backdrop shatters at the end of Year Zero, and turns into just a night sky. And then we get He Is... I knew this would feel special, and it truly does. It literally is a religious experience - I can't describe it. Now I know how Christians feel when they sing their hymns and can feel 'the light' or whatever they think it is, because I certainly felt something. Not Satan or any kind of deity as such, more a sense of belonging to a community that understands differences and preaches acceptance.

Rats goes hard. We all know this. I'm not sure what else I can really say about this, other than damn it goes hard. You can't not headbang to that outro, y'know? I must say though, that feels like such a Copia song it was a little odd to see Papa Perpetua singing it. Not that it took anything away from the performance at all, but I could just picture Copia sat in his office muttering to himself about how it's 'his song' and 'his rats' and 'fucking v should piss off and leave his babies alone'.

He does a little speech after this, and in London he asked us if we got what we want, to which we yelled a resounding yes. And then... Oh this bastard... "Good, I'll give you everything you want... as long as you just follow me..." SLUT. WHORE. The intrusive thoughts won and before I realised what I was doing I shouted "I WANT YOU!" which got a laugh from people around me, but not a clue if he heard that, because he was just smirking the whole damn time.

Then he asks us if we want a kiss. Well, duh... And this motherfucker smirks because he knows the damn answer. And Kiss The Go-Goat kicks off. Cracking song, had a boogie, lil' shake of the ass here and there. He no longer cradles Sodo's thigh during the 'daddy' lyrics but points at the fucking crowd like he knows we all collectively have daddy issues. Dickhead (affectionately).

Mummy Dust... Oh you feel that in your taint, you really do. In Birmingham, he did significantly more Mummy Thrusts (and right in our fucking direction too, may I add... I don't know how I'm still alive.) In Birmingham I think he saw that our side were giving him a little more in terms of interaction when he was thrusting, so he did a little more for us? But I can't be totally sure. We just got super lucky to be so close to the front left platform and got a face full of Papa pelvis. In London, I managed to get some Mummy Dust at the end of the show from the security team at the barrier, since we were just a little too central to be in the drop zone, but in Birmingham we were in the right spot to catch a bunch of it. If you're not super close, the canons probably won't reach you, but you can try your luck at the end of the show rooting around the floor or asking security at the barrier.

He did another little speech here which was different in London - he talked about how one of their first shows was in Camden (not him, of course; he made that clear by telling us it was his UNCLE, referring to Primo...), and how London almost feels like a home to Ghost which was very sweet. In both shows he said they had one more song, to which he was booed. I don't remember his response in London but in Birmingham he joked that we were a 'shit crowd' because of it.

I was NOT expecting to hear Monstrance Clock at all. I lost my shit a little in London when I heard it begin, but what a moment to hear thousands of people singing the "come together, together as one..." bridge with the lyrics on the screens with a font comprised of people fucking. Excellent. Very on brand. He's still a very flirty, horny little fucker on stage with this, fiddling with his jacket as if he's flashing the crowd etc.

The break here doesn't last too long, but I remember he said that people leaving here in London 'had the right idea', and we kept yelling we wanted more.

To kick off Mary on a Cross, he did mention this was a song his dad used to sing in Birmingham, but I don't think he did in London. As it's coming to an end, he turns to the back and catches a camera, and in Birmingham I was smacking @angellayercake's arm because he was smiling so damn wide, clear as day on the screens. He starts to do the call and response bit at the end at both shows, but after one "Mary on a...." he goes "ah, fuck that!" and kicks off Dance Macabre instead. That feels like a sibling rivalry moment, like he's shitting on Copia's 'thing' here and it made me laugh so hard.

Now, I mostly remember Dance Macabre from Birmingham and I'll tell you for why. During the second verse, he came over to the left platform right in front of us, and during the chorus I was jumping to the beat but the people in my immediate vicinity weren't, so I was pretty damn visible and probably stood out. He fucking locked eyes with me, and grinned, then proceeded to sing with me as I screamed "ONE LAST TIME IN THE ANCIENT RITE!" back at him. I will never, ever forget that. I thought I imagined it, until @her-satanic-wiles did indeed confirm it. Thank you, you angel. I almost thought I'd gone full delulu but nope, that actually happened.

And then, in Birmingham, we saw the unimaginable. He waltzes over to Swiss, practically kneels beneath him, then rises up to LOCK LIPS WITH HIM. This was not a peck. This lasted. None of us could really believe what we were seeing. Side note: I've heard people on Twitter trying to say that Swiss 'forced him' to (categorically incorrect), or that it simply didn't happen because 'well I didn't see it so it must be fake news'. Honey, I fucking saw everything. It happened. And we're still not over it.

Square Hammer slaps. The ghouls made their way over to Dew since they couldn't do the centre bit with Dew’s ankle being broken, but Papa comes out in a sparkly purple jacket that is just absolutely gorgeous. He's very mobile during the whole encore, trying to see as many people as he can before the show ends I'm sure. It's just such a fucking bop to end on, it feels perfect... The whole backdrop is turned into just the crowd being filmed, fans screaming into the live cameras which is such a beautiful addition especially after what they did with RHRN where they asked people to film themselves at the beginning in the screenings. It's very fan focused, and it feels like everyone there was being celebrated as part of something huge.

And just like in RHRN, he yelled "ONE MORE TIME UP THE POOP CHUTE!" in Birmingham. Iconic.

The final bow doesn't really change, but I remember we didn't get Dew in London (not sure about B'ham) as he'd broken his ankle and had to be helped off stage. He's now in a boot, but still continuing to play with some assistance from the other ghouls to use his effects pedals and move to his spots so he can be in the right place for choreography purposes.

So that concludes my ritual lowdown, really. I'm still absolutely reeling from it, can't stop listening to the setlist and now we're being spoiled with a Peacefields early drop today which makes me so incredibly happy. I had the most wonderful time with friends I've made through Ghost over the last few years and met several new friends too. Queueing was wonderful both days because of the people I was with, the rituals were magical and I'm so fucking lucky to be surrounded by some of the best the Ghost fandom has to offer. London was a much more emotional time for me, being my first ritual. In the car on the way to Birmingham that night, I sobbed to my friends about how much this meant to me, and most of the tears came that night. I had my little DATHOML breakdown in B'ham too, as I expected, but that night overall felt more like a celebration to me, another chance to really enjoy it without the fresh emotion of a first ritual.

I hope everyone gets to experience a ritual at some point. There is nothing like it. You truly feel like part of something so special, and whilst I'm so sad it's over, I'm still riding the high of the most amazing weekend. If you were part of it, thank you, and I love you.

Until the next tour... 😈

@her-satanic-wiles @angellayercake @dolceterzo @bonecloaks @callmemamaemeritus @onlyhereforghost @thew0man @the-goat-nurse-666 @delulluart (thank you for the gorgeous paintings, sketches and prints, I wish I'd been at your ritual with you. Next time!) @thew0man (next time we will fucking meet. Screw the O2's shitting management!!!!)

[ragingbookdragon]

Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.

“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”

She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”

“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”

“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.

“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”

“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”

Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”

She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”

“He feels bad.”

���I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”

Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”

She cocks a brow. “Okay?”

“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”

“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”

“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”

She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”

“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“

“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.

“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”

He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”

“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”

“Does it ever just feel like that?”

“…no.”

Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”

She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”

She shrugs.

Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”

“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”

“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”

She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”

Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”

“You really think he will?”

“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”

Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”

“But the Lieutenant—”

“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 22

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 22

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |��Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: Chaos unfolds during you and Tommy's reception, in the aftermath, you find some comfort in Small Heath.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language, mention of torture and vague, nonconsensual sexualization and touch, emetophobia warning

--

You didn’t even register the direction the gunshots came from– just the chaos that followed. Screams erupted. Glass shattered. Someone dropped a tray with a crash that echoed beneath the chandelier’s sudden sway. The music stopped abruptly, a needle skidding off vinyl, and for a split second, everything stood still.

Then, another shot.

You grabbed Finn without thinking, your instincts moving faster than your mind. He’d been standing just beside the refreshment table, laughing, a slice of cake still in his hand. You yanked him down with you, ducking beneath the table just as chairs clattered and guests scattered.

His eyes were wide, panicked, and you could feel him shaking.

“We’re okay,” you said quickly, your arms around him, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s alright, stay low, don’t move.”

The tablecloth hung around you like a makeshift curtain, dimming the chaos outside. 

Finn clutched your arm tightly. “What’s happening?” he whispered, voice cracking.

Above you, another loud bang– a third shot fired, but this one hit the ceiling, plaster raining down. You flinched, shielding Finn instinctively.

And then, through the noise, a voice bellowed across the room:

“A gift from Luca Changretta. Tell Tommy Shelby that his empire bleeds like any other.”

Finn clutched your arm tighter, his breathing shallow and fast. You pulled him in closer beneath the table, your body curled protectively over his, your hand cradling the back of his head to shield him from the falling plaster.

Around you, everything had gone still.

Not silent, there were still gasps and muffled screams, overturned chairs scraping against the floor, glass shattering somewhere across the room, but still in the way that fear locks a room in place, holding everyone in suspended disbelief.

You barely dared to breathe.

Footsteps thundered toward the exit, fast, heavy, purposeful. Then the sharp slam of the doors as the gunmen fled.

Gone, just like that.

No more shots. No more words. Just a trail of fear and smoke left behind in their wake.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you slowly looked out from beneath the table, your arm still curled tightly around Finn.

Polly’s voice rang out from somewhere across the room, sharp and panicked. Arthur was shouting orders. John’s voice followed, rough and urgent..

You pushed yourself up from the floor slowly, your limbs still shaky with adrenaline. Your hands found Finn first, gently helping him upright. He was pale, eyes wide, shoulders hunched in a way that made him look even younger than he was.

“Finn,” you said softly, brushing plaster dust from his jacket. “Are you alright?”

He nodded too quickly to be convincing. His breath hitched, and you reached for his face, cradling it gently between your palms. His skin was clammy, his cheeks flushed. You wiped a smear of dust from his cheek with your thumb, eyes scanning him for any sign of blood, any wound you might’ve missed in the panic.

“Look at me,” you said, steady but kind. “You’re not hurt?”

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Just… hell– what was that?”

“Just breathe,” you murmured, still holding his face. “You’re alright. You’re alright.”

Your fingers lingered for a second longer, brushing through his hair before pulling him into a quick, fierce hug. He held onto you like a lifeline, his body trembling just slightly.

You heard Tommy before you saw him, the shift in the air, the magnetic pull. His voice was heavy. “Move– move!”

Before you knew it, Tommy was there, storming toward you, eyes scanning wildly– jaw clenched, breathing hard.

His eyes found yours and stopped.

“Fuck–” he breathed, his expression cracking, just for a second. “Are you okay?” His voice was low and sharp, breathless as he reached you, hands already skimming over your arms, your ribs, your waist.

You couldn’t speak. You just nodded your head, slowly.

But he didn’t accept that. One hand cupped the back of your neck, grounding you firmly in place. His touch wasn’t gentle now– it was firm. Urgent.

“Look at me,” he said, voice fierce. “Are you okay?”

Your lips parted, breath shaky. “Yes,” you whispered. “I’m okay.” 

He closed his eyes for half a second, like the air had been knocked from him. When they opened again, they were darker, stormier. Rage and relief tangled behind them.

“I told you,” he said, voice hoarse and cracking as his forehead dropped briefly to yours. “I told you to stay put.”

Before you could even respond, he pulled away, his hands falling from your face, jaw clenching as he turned slightly, already scanning the chaos again. You stood there, stunned, the weight of his anger settling heavy in your chest.

You hadn’t meant to anger him. But the shame still twisted in your stomach like a blade.

Suddenly, you felt small fingers clutching at your arm.

Finn had latched onto you without a word, his arms winding around your waist. His face was pressed into your side, his entire body shaking with adrenaline and fear.

You blinked back the sting in your eyes and immediately wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, cradling the back of his head. “It’s alright,” you whispered, holding him tightly. “You’re alright.”

He didn’t speak, just shook, buried against you, trying to hide the fact that he’d been terrified. You swayed gently with him, murmuring something soft, your hand brushing through his hair, grounding him in the only way you could.

Tommy, meanwhile, had already shifted gears.

His eyes were scanning the room, sharp and calculating, jaw rigid with fury. “John! Arthur!” he barked. A bitter breath hissed from between Tommy’s teeth. “Find out how they got in. Who let them through the doors. Someone knew. Someone fucking knew!”

John nodded tightly, already heading toward the front.

Tommy’s jaw flexed again as he turned back toward Arthur. “And I want names! Every single fucking guest who wasn’t on the list, where they came from, who they came with. Someone vouched for those bastards.”

Arthur’s mouth tightened. “You got it, Tom.”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, pacing for a second before muttering, “They didn’t want blood… not tonight. They wanted fear.”

His eyes flicked toward you then, still holding Finn, still trying to slow your breathing, your expression dazed and unreadable.

And in that instant, his fury turned razor-sharp again.

“They came into my fucking wedding,” he yelled. “That’s their warning shot? They’re going to regret not pulling the fucking trigger.”

He paced in a tight line, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing sharp and ragged. You’d seen him angry before– cold, calculating, precise. But this… this was something else. This was pure fury. Unfiltered. Barely contained.

“They walked through those doors,” he snapped, whirling around to face Arthur and John as they returned to his side. “They fired shots over our fucking heads– at my family, at my wife!” 

His voice cracked on the last word, jaw tightening hard enough to make his cheek twitch. His hand went instinctively to his hip like he needed to reach for something– his gun, maybe, or just a way to release the rage bottled beneath his ribs.

“They wanted to humiliate us,” he growled, eyes dark and wild. “To prove they could get in and out without a scratch. That they could touch us without drawing blood.”

Arthur stepped forward, voice low. “Tom, we’ll find ‘em. You know we will.”

Tommy’s glare cut through the room like a blade. “Not good enough,” he snapped. “I don’t want their names. I want their fucking heads.”

You flinched slightly at the venom in his tone, but Finn still clung to your side, and your instinct to protect him kept you grounded.

“They made a spectacle,” Tommy continued, turning toward the ruined tables, the chandelier still swaying faintly overhead. “A statement. They want war? Fine.”

His voice dropped to a growl– cold, merciless. “Then we’ll give them war.”

Arthur nodded grimly, but John exchanged a glance with him, uneasy. Polly hovered nearby, watching Tommy with that sharp, calculating stare of hers, as if measuring how far gone he really was.

And then beside you, Finn let out a soft sound– not quite a whimper, but close. His hands were still clutching the edge of your dress where he’d held on during the gunfire, his knuckles white. He was staring at the floor now, eyes unfocused, jaw tight, like he was trying to swallow whatever panic was still clawing its way through his chest.

“Finn?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer at first. Just kept shaking his head like he was trying to make the memory disappear. His breathing had gone shallow again.

“Hey.” You crouched a little, meeting his eyes, brushing his fringe back gently. “You’re alright, Finn. It’s over now.”

He nodded, too quickly, too forcefully, and then abruptly turned to the side and vomited into the corner.

Polly immediately stepped toward him, but you raised a hand gently. “I’ve got him.”

The sound of Tommy’s voice barking another order behind you made Finn flinch visibly. That was it. Your chest clenched, protective instinct kicking in fully now.

“Come on, love,” you said, steady and soft, already slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get some air.”

But before you could take a full step, a firm hand caught your arm.

“You can’t go outside,” Tommy said sharply, eyes flashing.

You blinked at him, stunned. “He needs air, Tommy. He’s shaking.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. “It’s not safe out there. Not yet.”

“He’s going to pass out if he stays in here,” you snapped. 

Without missing a beat, Tommy waved two of his men forward with a curt gesture. “Go with them,” he barked. Then his eyes flicked back to you, sharp and unreadable. “Don’t go past the gate. And this time, do what you’re fucking told, please.”

You stared at him, nostrils flaring, heat rising behind your eyes. It wasn’t just the words, it was the tone, the way he said it like you were one of the men under his command instead of his wife, who’d just been dragged through chaos on her own wedding day.

Your lips parted, ready to spit something back, but instead you just wrenched your arm from his grip, your jaw tight.

You turned your back on him and led Finn away, your hand steady at his back. The weight of Tommy’s stare burned between your shoulder blades, but you didn’t look back.

Finn didn’t protest. He let you guide him away, his legs a bit unsteady beneath him. You led him down the corridor and out through the side door into the cool night air, the chaos muffled now behind stone walls and heavy doors. The moment you stepped outside, you felt him exhale, just a shaky breath, but a little steadier than before.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just sat with him on the edge of the steps, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I thought they were going to kill us,” Finn said quietly after a long pause. 

You swallowed the knot in your throat. “I know.”

You sat in silence for a long moment– just the two of you under the stars, the distant pulse of music and shouting still echoing faintly behind you. But out here, for just a little while, you could breathe.

The night air was sharp against your skin, cutting through the lingering adrenaline still humming in your veins. Your heart hadn’t fully settled yet, and Finn was still tense beneath your arm, shoulders hunched forward like he was trying to make himself smaller.

You rubbed a slow, steady hand across his back, letting the silence stretch between you like a blanket. You didn’t need to fill it. Not yet.

“I’m sorry I threw up,” Finn said after a while, voice barely above a whisper. 

Your hand stilled for a second, then resumed its rhythm. “It’s okay, Finn. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

A few more minutes passed in stillness, broken only by the distant crack of glass, another door swinging open somewhere inside, a voice shouting orders. The tension of the evening hadn’t fully lifted, not even out here.

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that, just holding him steady, when the door creaked open again behind you.

You turned.

Polly stepped into the dim light of the courtyard, her silhouette sharp against the warm glow from the reception hall. Her heels clicked softly on the stone, but there was no urgency in her steps, just the same quiet gravity she always carried like a second skin.

She stopped a few paces away, her eyes scanning you both. Her gaze softened when it landed on Finn. She crouched down beside him then, resting a hand lightly on his knee. “You alright, love?”

“I’m okay,” he lied. 

Polly nodded once, glancing between you and Finn again. “Arthur’s still inside trying to calm people down. Tommy’s… doing what Tommy does.”

You swallowed and gave her a faint nod of thanks.

There was a long pause before you spoke again, your voice low, tired. “When can we go home?”

Polly looked at you for a moment, really looked. Not just at your face, but the slump in your shoulders, the way your hand still gripped Finn’s sleeve like you couldn’t quite let go of the fear yet.

“Soon,” she said gently. “They need to be sure it’s safe first.”

You nodded, but it didn’t ease the restlessness curling in your chest. You were still in your wedding dress. Your hands still smelled faintly of gunpowder and champagne. And your heart hadn’t stopped racing since the first shot rang out.

You could feel the pressure building behind your eyes, that familiar sting threatening to break through. You blinked hard, jaw clenched tight, willing the tears not to come. 

Polly stepped closer, brushing a bit of hair from your face in a rare, tender gesture. “You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. You just need to breathe.”

You tried, but it caught in your throat.

“I didn’t even see it coming,” you whispered. “It was supposed to be– just for one day–”

“I know.” Her voice softened again, more mother than matriarch now. 

You didn’t have the energy to say anything else. You just glanced down at Finn, who was quiet now, staring out at the street like it might tell him something the rest of you couldn’t.

Polly’s hand touched your arm again, firmer this time. “You’re safe now. We’ll get you home soon.”

You nodded once more, but the weight of the evening settled heavy in your bones. You didn’t feel safe. Not yet. Not really.

Polly returned inside, but you stayed there in silence, shoulders tense beneath the weight of your dress, heart still pounding against your ribs like it hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that the threat was over. You kept your eyes on the door, waiting for it to open again. Hoping it would be him this time.

Finn sat quietly beside you, hands clasped in his lap, gaze fixed on the darkened garden path ahead. He hadn’t said anything else, but he leaned into your side slightly, like your presence was the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

Minutes passed. Then, finally, the door creaked open behind you. Footsteps on the gravel.

Tommy’s figure cut through the dim light like a shadow cast from something solid and unshakable, but there was a new heaviness in his expression, tighter around the eyes, jaw still clenched hard. His tie was crooked now, shirt undone at the collar, blood still flecked faintly at his temple. But his gaze was on you.

“Come on,” he murmured, one hand in his pocket, the other beckoning you gently. “Let’s go.”

You nodded and turned to Finn, brushing your hand gently against his shoulder. “Come on, love,” you said quietly. “Let’s get up.”

He nodded, a little dazed, letting you help him to his feet. He leaned on you more than he probably realized, but you didn’t mind. Your arm stayed steady beneath his.

Tommy reached for him then, his hand landing firm on Finn’s other shoulder, steadying him silently. His other hand reached for yours without a word, fingers curling around yours with quiet purpose.

You glanced down at your joined hands, his fingers warm and certain around yours. The earlier anger– the sting of him snapping at you, the way he’d barked and shut you out, had dissolved somewhere in the chaos. You couldn’t even pinpoint the moment it left you, only that now, standing here beside him, all you could feel was the dull throb of exhaustion and the steady comfort of his touch.

Because whatever his temper had been, whatever sharpness had cut through his voice… you knew it had come from fear.

And now, there was only this, his hand in yours, grounding you again. The way it always did.

Tommy gave your hand a small, silent squeeze, his eyes flicking to yours for a brief second, just long enough to say everything he hadn’t said earlier.

Then, together, the three of you moved toward the car. Slowly, quietly. Away from the wreckage. Toward whatever peace the night could still offer.

The car ride home was quiet. 

No one said it out loud, but there was a silent agreement between all of you, not to scatter off into separate homes, not to retreat behind closed doors where the silence could swallow you whole. Instead, everyone returned to the Small Heath house. It felt safer that way. Closer. Warmer, somehow, even beneath the weight of what had just happened.

You weren’t sure if it was instinct or desperation that led to it, but no one argued. No one left.

Polly took up residence in her usual armchair, a cigarette already between her fingers. Ada curled up on the couch, shoes kicked off, eyes tired but still sharp. Arthur poured drinks, heavily, and John paced the hallway like a restless dog while Esme tried to convince him to sit down. The house was buzzing beneath the quiet, like everyone was trying to act normal, but every small noise made someone flinch. Every knock, every footstep.

You glanced at Finn, he hadn’t said much since the ride. He hadn’t let go of your hand either. Now, he sat slumped in the corner of the settee, shoulders curled in, eyes wide and unfocused. His plate of untouched food sat cooling beside him, forgotten.

Your heart cracked a little at the sight of him.

You moved toward him quietly and lowered yourself beside him. “You alright?” you asked gently, though you already knew the answer.

He nodded quickly, but it was automatic, hollow. His lip trembled.

“Why don’t you head to bed, love? Get some rest?”

He shook his head before you even finished the sentence.

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Finn mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched. You reached out, brushing your hand through his hair.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Then stay here with me a while.”

His shoulders eased just a little at that, like the weight pressing into him had lifted, only slightly, but enough.

Minutes passed, slow and heavy. You could hear Arthur and John’s low voices from the kitchen, the clink of glass, the occasional muttered curse. Somewhere down the hall, Tommy’s voice rumbled, low, clipped, issuing orders through the telephone. Polly’s lighter flicked in rhythm from her seat across the room, a steady little flame to match the storm still flickering behind her eyes.

Eventually, you felt Finn’s breathing slow. His body slackened slightly against yours, the last of his adrenaline fading into exhaustion. He was asleep– finally.

You stayed with him anyway, stroking his hair gently, letting your own head rest back against the cushion behind you.

Your eyes drifted closed for a moment, but your mind didn’t quiet. It circled endlessly around the night, around the chaos, around the gunfire echoing behind your ribs. The blood. The fear. 

You exhaled slowly through your nose.

The door creaked open, and you turned slightly at the sound.

John stepped into the room, his gaze landing on Finn curled up beside you. He let out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Poor kid,” he muttered. 

You nodded quietly, brushing your hand once more through Finn’s hair before glancing up at John. “He finally fell asleep.”

John stepped closer, his voice softer now. “I’ll take him upstairs.”

You hesitated, just for a second– some part of you reluctant to let Finn go. But John’s expression was kind, steady. And maybe you needed a moment to breathe.

“Alright,” you said gently, carefully easing yourself away from Finn. 

John nodded. “I’ve got him.”

You watched as he crouched down and scooped Finn up in his arms with practiced ease. The younger boy stirred only faintly, murmuring something incoherent before settling again against John’s shoulder.

You followed behind them to the doorway, pausing just at the threshold. Your eyes drifted toward the sitting room, where the low hum of voices carried down the hallway– Tommy, Arthur, and Polly, deep in discussion.

You could see them through the doorway: Polly pacing slowly, a cigarette burning between her fingers; Arthur slouched forward, elbows on his knees, face tense; and Tommy, standing tall, arms folded tightly across his chest as he spoke in that low, unreadable tone he always used when trying to mask the storm brewing beneath the surface.

You watched him for a moment longer, his words indistinct but his posture unmistakably rigid. Earlier, at the reception, he'd mentioned revenge. War. Against whoever it was that had caused all of this.

A message from Luca Changretta.

You didn’t know who that was, not really. Only that whoever it was, was bound to cause you all a world of trouble.

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. You thought, for a moment, about walking in, about catching Tommy’s eye, about pulling him away just for a moment. But he didn’t look up. He didn’t even seem to notice you standing there.

The weight of it settled in your chest again. You were too tired to find out more. Too drained to dig into the shadows gathering around the edges of your wedding night.

So instead, you turned quietly and followed behind John and Finn up the stairs, your footsteps soft on the floorboards.

Whatever that conversation was, whatever came next, it could wait. Tonight had taken enough from you already.

You followed John into Finn’s room, the quiet creak of the door barely audible over the sound of Finn’s soft breathing. The room was dim, only the low flicker of a lamp casting a warm glow across the walls. John moved carefully, easing Finn down onto the bed with practiced gentleness, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders as he settled.

You lingered by the doorway for a moment, then stepped in fully, moving to the chair in the corner. It was old, the cushion a little worn, but it cradled your tired body easily as you sank into it with a quiet exhale.

John glanced over at you, his brow furrowed slightly. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded once, giving him a small, tired smile. “Yeah. I just… want to stay with him for a bit.”

He studied you for a moment, then gave a single, quiet nod. “Alright,” he said simply. “Shout if you need anything.”

You nodded again, watching as he turned and stepped out, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

The room fell into stillness again. Just you and Finn.

You leaned back into the chair, gaze drifting toward him. His face looked softer in sleep– no longer clouded with fear or tension, just the slow, steady rhythm of rest. You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat and folded your arms across your chest, letting the quiet settle around you.

Your eyelids drifted lower.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But your body had finally reached its limit, and before you realized it, the blur of candlelight and the soft rhythm of Finn’s breathing had lulled you into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

It was the quiet sound of your name that stirred you first, soft, low, spoken like a secret. Then the gentle sweep of fingers through your hair, brushing lightly behind your ear.

Your lashes fluttered, the warmth of his voice coaxing you back to the surface. You blinked up at him, disoriented for a moment, the dim room coming slowly back into focus.

He crouched beside you, one hand still lingering at your hairline, the other settling softly on your knee. “You’ll be sore if you stay like that all night,” he said, voice quiet and full of something softer than usual.

You sat up slowly, blinking away the heaviness from your eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright.” His voice was gentle. “Let’s get to bed.”

Your gaze flicked toward the bed, Finn was still curled beneath the blanket, breathing steady and slow. Safe. Asleep.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were still holding.

Tommy’s hand slipped down to yours, curling around your fingers. “Come on,” he said again, quieter now. 

You nodded and stood slowly, glancing one last time at Finn before letting Tommy guide you out of the room. The hallway was dim, the house quieter now, tension still lingering in the air like smoke, but dulled beneath the weight of exhaustion.

You followed him down the corridor to the same spare room you’d taken care of Tommy in– the one you’d stepped inside a hundred times before, back when things were simpler. The sheets were clean but creased, the window cracked just enough to let the cool night air in. It wasn’t your house on the hill– but it was Small Heath. Familiar. Steady. Home.

Tommy shut the door softly behind you, then moved to pull the blanket back. “You alright?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You nodded, stepping toward the bed. “I just… didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“I know,” he said. 

You slid beneath the covers, the sheets cool against your skin. Tommy followed a beat later, lying beside you with a quiet sigh. His arm found its way around you, pulling you in until your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you like nothing else could.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Just the sound of your breathing, the faint creak of the old house settling around you.

Then his voice, rumbled, low and rough against the top of your head. “I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you.”

You blinked, shifting just enough to glance up at him. His eyes were on the ceiling, jaw tight.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “I should’ve listened.”

He shook his head slightly. “You didn’t deserve that. Not tonight.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly along his chest. “You were just trying to protect me. On our wedding night.”

His hand covered yours, warm and steady. “Didn’t exactly turn out how I pictured it,” he murmured with a rueful half-smile. 

“How did you picture it?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I suppose more champagne and dancing. Less… bullets and threats.”

You gave a soft, tired chuckle, resting your forehead against his collarbone. “Well, I am a Shelby now,” you said. “I can’t think of a warmer welcome.”

His chest rumbled faintly with a laugh. “I suppose,” he said, tilting his head down and brushing a kiss into your hair. "Mrs. Shelby."

You didn’t reply, just curled in closer, fingers curling loosely into his shirt. The storm outside might still rage, but here, in this small stretch of warmth and safety, it was just the two of you.

Mr. and Mrs. Shelby.

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[deebris]

Act 3: Retraction

Shelby family x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: You’re wounded, Edmund Beaumont is dead, and Liam is missing. The news hits the Shelbys like an avalanche, fueling their rage as they see the condition of their younger sister. Now, the hunt for the boy, who has earned the family’s respect, becomes a top priority.

Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, explicit language.

Word count: ≈ 1.8k

ACT 1: Permission — ACT 2: Sacrifice

The early morning in Birmingham was even greyer than usual, as if the clouds had sensed Tommy’s conflicting thoughts. He climbed the steps of that old house, one just like hundreds of others, and stopped on the porch as if lost in contemplation.

Finn waited patiently below, hands clasped in front of him, a clear sign of unspoken shame. The boy was afraid of his older brothers and bore a black eye, a gift from John for his recklessness last night, when he left you alone while he enjoyed stolen whiskey with Isaiah.

They found you in tears near the Garrison. The gentlemen on the pavement made a fuss, and luckily, John and Arthur were inside. They tried to touch your bruised face, but you screamed in pain. Your body trembled as if you'd just emerged from an icy lake, your voice frantic as you sobbed incoherent words to them. Arthur said you didn’t let go of his arm for hours.

John went looking for Liam with a few men, at the very place you said he’d be. But when they arrived, they found nothing but a disturbing scene — the ground was red, Mark Winslow’s lifeless body lay bleeding near some barrels, and there was no sign of the other two. News spread across the docks and Small Heath like the plague.

Tommy arrived a while later, he and John standing over the scene, tense as stone. They both stiffened when a policeman approached, lowering his voice to deliver a whispered message from Sabini:

“The lad” Beaumont “acted for personal reasons, but they won’t hand him over.” The officer spoke hastily, his moustache twitching as he swallowed hard.

“Won’t hand him over, for fuck’s sake?!” John roared, kicking a wooden barrel with force.

“We don’t need them to. We’ll find him ourselves.” Tom stated, voice as calm as ever. “This stopped being just Winslow’s problem the moment that lad and the Sabinis decided to shelter him.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell you they hadn’t found Liam. Instead, he told you a lie. And it was only with that false hope that you managed to sleep.

“He’s fine, just a few scratches.” That was the lie he crafted, avoiding the bright, hopeful eyes of his younger sister as he reassured her in a half-hearted embrace.

A butcher claimed he had seen the end of the fight when he stepped out to take the rubbish. Edmund Beaumont had run after his friend hit the ground, while Liam, too injured to even walk properly, clutched his stomach the entire time.

“The mate was stubborn, wouldn’t let me touch him.” The man’s voice was weighted with pity. “Said he needed to know if someone… a girl, I think, was alright.”

Back in the present, Tommy sighed, weary from staring at the worn wooden door. But just as he raised his hand to knock, something stopped him.

“Can I help you, sir?” A timid voice made him turn his head. A woman stood there, firewood in her arms, her expression laced with concern.

“We’re looking for Liam Byrne. Are you his neighbour?” He asked, slipping his hands into the pockets.

“Is he in trouble?”

The suspicion in her tone made Tom go silent. He assessed the woman once more, glancing at her house next door. Two small silhouettes were visible in the window, probably her children.

“He isn’t.” The answer was curt, only deepening her doubt.

“Miss Mason, do you remember me?” Finn interjected, stepping forward. “I’m… I’m a friend of his.”

The last words left his mouth with difficulty, as though he no longer deserved to call himself that after everything.

She wet her lips, studying Finn with more attention, recognising the boy as, in fact, one of Liam’s friends. She hesitated, but then gave in:

“He didn’t come home last night.” She glanced around as if speaking about it were dangerous. “Liam never got himself into trouble. He’s good. So if something’s happened, please, tell me.”

Tommy stepped down from the porch, frowning at the information.

“He didn’t come home?” The question was rhetorical, but even so, the woman nodded again.

“His mother stayed at mine last night. She’s terribly worried.”

“We’ll find him, miss. Don’t worry.” Finn spoke with newfound determination, stepping closer to his brother to whisper:

“I think I know where he might be.”

Tommy had no choice but to let himself be led once again. They walked briskly, heading towards the outskirts of Birmingham, where abandoned train tracks lay forgotten. Rusted wagons, overgrown with vines, stood scattered around, the metal nearly swallowed by the wild.

He didn’t want to imagine what Finn and his pals used this place for. Tom knew his younger brother’s antics well enough to be sure that knowing the details would only give him a headache.

“Liam came here with us sometimes. When he had time, at least.” Finn murmured as they searched. “There was one time… well, he wasn’t feeling right and ended up here.”

Tom remained silent, exhaling sharply. That boy, Byrne, had surprised him — and, in a way, he felt indebted. But here and now, searching for him, Thomas realised it wasn’t duty driving him. He genuinely wanted to find the dockworker, as if looking for one of his own.

A twig snapped underfoot, and as he reflexively glanced down, he spotted a red trail.

“Check the wagons.” He ordered, moving swiftly.

He searched frantically, weaving between the rusted compartments, his tension mounting as he found more blood. The thought of Liam lying dead made his throat tighten with guilt. What would he tell you? What would have become of you without him yesterday?

“Tommy! I found him!” Finn’s voice rang out like salvation.

Tommy sprinted towards his brother, climbing into the wagon. Liam was slumped against the wall, pale as a sheet, his face battered and bruised. His hand still clutched his stomach, just as the butcher had said.

“He’s been stabbed.” Finn stated flatly, reaching out to check if Liam was conscious.

“Liam.” Tom patted his cheek. “Liam, come on, son. Wake up.”

“Is he dead?”

“No.” Tom snapped, hating the thought. “Go get John. And a doctor.”

Finn nodded like a soldier receiving orders, but before he could leave, a weak grip caught his coat.

“And a doctor, you hear me?” Tommy repeated. “Don’t forget the doctor.”

“Right.” Finn locked eyes with him, every nerve in his body primed for action. And when Thomas let go, he bolted.

“Mr Shelby?” Liam’s voice was barely above a whisper. He was weak, exhausted, and parched.

“My boy, let me see.” Tom reached for his bloodied hand, but the lad wouldn’t let go.

His body was so spent that he barely felt the pain.

“Is she alright?” His words were faint. “I need to know if she’s safe, Mr Shelby.”

“She’s safe, lad. She made it home.” Tom reassured him. “Why did you come here?”

“My mum… I didn’t want her to see me like this.” He spoke as though he weren’t barely clinging on.

“Thank you.” The words were heavy, worth more than gold.

“I didn’t do it for you, sir.” He answered simply. There was no contempt, just the truth.

“I know.” Tom exhaled, hand resting against the back of Liam’s head with rare tenderness. “I know.” He repeated it more intensely, as if that was exactly what he was thankful for.

He no longer resembled the same man who had welcomed him to his office the previous week.

“Which one of them stabbed you?”

“Edmund.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched.

“He’ll pay.”

“You shouldn’t get involved, sir. The Sabinis will think I acted on the Shelbys’ behalf. You’ve got enough trouble with them as it is.”

“But you did act, lad.” Tommy’s voice carried conviction. “You risked your own life for a Shelby.”

“I’m not a gangster, sir. Nor a killer. It was an accident...” Liam finally broke. The tears fell down his cheeks, as if they had been waiting for permission. “My mother can’t know. It’d destroy her.”

“She won’t hear a word about what happened. I'll handle it, don't think about Sabini.”

“You can’t fix death.” Liam murmured, and the only thing Thomas could think of was that the boy was right. And that's why he wouldn't let him die. “Please, don’t tell her either. Don’t tell her I killed him.”

Her. You.

He hesitated for a moment. But when he exhaled, he gave a single nod.

“She won’t know.”

That promise was the last thing spoken, as Tommy made sure Liam stayed conscious until help arrived. He pulled off his coat, using it to wipe the dirt from the lad’s mouth and his exposed neck. By sheer luck — or perhaps some desperate instinct — Liam had found a position that slowed the bleeding. It was the only reason he was still alive.

“Where are they?” John’s voice rang out, slightly muffled by the distance. Tommy stood, stepping out of the wagon to face him.

“It’s not so serious. It's only bad because it took a long time to be treated.” The doctor declared, his voice steady, a man well-seasoned in his profession, and well-paid for his discretion.

With swift efficiency, he assessed the wound. A second later, he was pressing gauze to it, soaking it in alcohol. Liam groaned, the pain sending a violent shudder through him. His trembling hands, slick with blood, tried in vain to push away the three men working on his wound.

Both Shelbys, faces grim and damp with sweat, lifted him carefully, ensuring they didn’t make the injury worse. Liam let out a muffled cry as his feet left the ground, the throbbing agony making his vision blur.

The car that had brought them there, a black Ford, was parked just a few metres away. Moving quickly, Tommy pulled open the back door as John eased him onto the seat, placing a folded coat under his head for support.

“Hang in there, mate.” John muttered before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Liam.” Tommy’s voice was firm as he spoke the name, stopping the door before it closed.

“Yes, sir?” He responded with a grunt.

“You have my blessing. You hear me?” The sentence came out in a rush, urgently. “I give you my permission.”

Even through the fever, even in his dazed state, Liam understood exactly what the older man meant. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, and for the first time, his furrowed brows weren’t from pain, but from relief.

And then he smiled. A small, knowing smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

Tag list:

@jsprien213 @salvatt1 @themorriganisamonster @thatsroug @sxurcherries @mclarens-type-is-my-type @boomdolle @macimads @sangdium45

[dimity-lawn]

So I have some potentially big news, at least in my world: After over a year of desperately longing for something I thought impossible, I am now on the waiting list for a ticket to the Discworld Convention!!!!!*

This happened about this time yesterday, and I still haven’t fully absorbed this information. I have yet to think one complete coherent thought, because my thoughts keep being interrupted by new ones. Last night I was too excited to sleep, and, as you might expect, the lack of sleep isn’t helping matters. And while I’m thrilled by this, I’m also kind of in a state of “oh no, there’s so much to figure out and do and so little time!”, including several sewing projects, especially my scaled up to adult size reproduction of an 18th century pocket in the collections of the V&A, because if I’m going to Birmingham for the convention, I’ll have to go to the V&A.** I’m afraid of getting my hopes up, but 🤞.

Rattle your drawers for me!

*Yes, five exclamation points is a sure sign of an insane mind, but in my defense, reread the part before the five exclamation points. **This project has reached a surprising and ungodly extent of procrastination.

[imnosuvu]

𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 — part two!

part one here!

↳ peaky blinders x fem!reader, thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ 𝓽𝔂𝓹𝓮 — fluff/angst(?)/smut(ish)

↳ 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 — a second class powerful gang in the south of london reaches out too a strong working class gang in the south east of birmingham for a union. Whilst the wedding takes place, unwanted guests break in, causing the newly wedded couple to panic.

↳ 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮 — preferably at the start of season 2, maybe even before, but after grace’s betrayal. (Arthur is not married to Linda yet.)

↳ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ❗️— swearing, gang talk, arranged marriage, weapons, kissing, toxic uncle(?), mention of cheating bf, violence, mentions of blood, reader getting sh, mentions of slight sexual interaction, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of guests getting high,

↳ 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 — guys i apologise if the wedding isn’t correctly done as i am brown, and i don’t often go to weddings outside my culture, however, i have tried my hardest by following how weddings within the show went including some research. i highly apologise! thank you💗

↳ 𝓷𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷.

Three days have passed since the meeting with the Peaky Blinders. It’s rather late and you’re at one of the posh pubs your family owns, drinking away the sorrows for the next day. Tomorrow’s the day you’re dreading. Oh how you’d rather get thrown in the cut than marrying some man that threatens to cut people with razor blades - a man you barely know.

“It’ll be alright,” you hear your best friend say, placing her drink down, snapping you out of your little daydream, offering comfort by giving you a little side hug. “He’s probably not as scary as you think.”

“(best friend’s name), He’s feared by the whole of Birmingham.” you speak in an obvious tone, turning your head to face her, raising your brows.

She, smiles, clearly amused. Whilst pressing her lips against the glass of wine, she teases, “Looks like you’ve done your research on your soon-to-be-husband.”

That earned her a wack on her waist.

“Ow!”

“Shush.” you remark, smirking lightly, watching her playfully glare at you from the corner of your eye, whilst sipping on your wine.

“I am NOT doing this!” you yell out, pushing away from your uncle and mother who are practically dragging you into the church.

“y/n you’re marrying him whether you like it or not!” your uncle growls out harshly, anger fueling his eyes, grabbing onto your arm again, harder than before.

“Mum!” you whine out, moving your pissed gaze from your uncle towards your mother.

“y/n, darling, just do this for your dad, you know how bad he wanted you to get married.” she calmly and sympathetically answers with, unlike what your uncle is doing. Your father died in the war, by an unexpected bombing attack from the German troops.

Trying to resist your uncle’s harsh grip, who’s attempting to get you into the church without messing your gorgeous white gown, flawless makeup and hair, you snap a light remark towards your mum, “I’m sure he would have actually wanted me to marry someone I love, not some wannabe gangster who waves his razor around.”

“Well that ‘wannabe gangster who waves his razor around’ provides you protection.” your uncle interrupts your mum from speaking, mocking your words, raising his voice towards you, “My brother- your father, would rather have wanted a man who’d protect you till his last breath than a guy who cheats on his girlfriend with a whore!”

You want to say something back, but the mention of Andrew stung, you thought you’ve drank the pain away, but of course, it’s still there.

“Now you’re going to fucking go into that church and marry him.” he yells in fury, pushing you towards the church harshly, each word being spat with anger, there’d be no surprise if the people inside the church heard, “I don’t want you causing any of your fucking scenes in there, you understand? No fights, no arguments, i don’t want any of that shit!”

When he hears no response, he snaps, scaring you,

“Do you understand?!”

Your mum shoots you a warning look, both of you knowing that if you don’t respond, he’d drag you in by your hair that has been curled gracefully by your older sister.

“I understand.” you softly mutter through gritted teeth.

“Now get in.” he pulls your arm, dragging you towards the church, your mother following behind.

“Tommy there’s still time y’know,” John mutters to his older brother, who’s stood at the alter, “You barely even know the woman! Who knows, she could probably one of those fuckin’ pointless activists?”

“John, listen to me, yeah? We might not know what she’s like, but are we going to drop a really fucking good deal over some woman, aye?” Thomas raises his brows at his younger brother.

“But Tommy-” John starts, however getting stopped when he notices you beginning to walk down the aisle. The younger Shelby sighs, cursing under his breathe, moving himself away from Thomas and towards Esme.

As the ceremony begins, everyone hushes down, watching you and your uncle, who’s masked his irritation, walking down the aisle, your veil coving your face, disguising your fury which you’re trying to stop from releasing, for the sake of the wedding. You keep your eyes low, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Now stood infront of the Altar, your uncle passes you to the feared brummie gangster you’re forced to marry, you feel his thick, calloused hands taking your slimmer soft ones carefully, as if you’re glass that can be easily shattered. Those same hands now lift your veil up, revealing your neatly done makeup which is applied onto your soft, pretty, gorgeous face. His piercing blue eyes study you, yet keeping a stern expression, making you feel interrogated. Your gaze can’t help but lightly examine Thomas in return, noticing the way his expensive suit decorates his muscular build.

Breaking away from your gaze, both you and Thomas now turn, facing Jeremiah Jesus - a close friend of the Shelby’s.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony, Thomas Michael Shelby and (reader’s full name).” Jeremiah speaks aloud, “Thomas Micheal Shelby and (reader’s full name), have you come here to enter into a marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

“I have.” Tommy replies, beside you, in his usual raspy tone. Jeremiah’s eyes now land on you, as you haven’t said your confirmation.

“I have.” you mutter carelessly, looking away.

Jeremiah then lightly nods, “Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and to honor eachother for as long as you both shall live?”

“I am.” you both now say, you now wanting to get this shit over with.

“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Jeremiah continues, watching how both you and Tommy hold hands.

“I, Thomas Micheal Shelby, take you, (reader’s full name), to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” Tommy states his vows, repeating after Jeremiah, in a stern, cold tone, with his usual brummie accent, staring down at you, his piercing blue eyes glued onto you.

“I, (reader’s full name), take you, Thomas Micheal Shelby, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” the vows come out your mouth, unwillingly, not wanting to have come out of your plump lips. You return his stern look he gives you.

Jeremiah then continues on with his speech, finishing off with 'Amen'. He then sprinkles the wedding rings, that bound you with Thomas, with holy water, handing one to you and to Thomas.

“(reader’s full name), receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” the feared Birmingham gangster announces the vows Jeremiah indicates him to say, as he places the wedding band onto your left, ring finger, sliding it on.

“Thomas Micheal Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” you repeat the words, failing to hide your light annoyance as you place the wedding band onto Thomas’ left, ring finger.

“Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony.” Jeremiah states to everyone within the church, “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. The husband may now kiss the bride!”

As Jeremiah speaks the last sentence, your now husband, carefully cups your face, bringing his face closer towards yours, pressing a kiss onto your lips, instantly melting into it, you hesitantly place your hands onto the nape of his neck, closing your eyes, the kiss now turning quite intimate. Cheers erupt.

“Alright, calm down you both, no need to eat eachother up, you’ve got a whole house to do that shit in!” a deep, joy fall teasing voice erupts behind Thomas, snapping you both out of eachother’s mouths, seeing the owner of the voice, Arthur, smirk. You pull away from him, your brownish pink shaded lipstick now lightly smudged onto his lips, looking away, moving your gaze around, seeing your uncle nod lightly - in approval - his stern facade still remaining. As you look around, your eyes then land on a couple of Spanish lads, rivals of yours,

they surely weren’t on the wedding list.

“Right everyone, let’s get the fuckin’ family photo done!” Arthur yells aloud, snapping you out of your train of thoughts, making everyone get outside the church, where the wedding photo is meant to be taken.

As both yours and Thomas’ family gather around you both, infront of the camera, Arthur bellows for space to be made, guiding the less important guests away from the camera. You then look towards the field on your right, the same group of unknown Spanish men huddled together, seemingly discussing something suspiciously. Unexpectedly, you get pushed, loosing your balance on your heels, you fall into your husband. He quickly reacts by grabbing your waist, letting the cigar be held with his lips, holding you upright as you regain balance.

“Alright?” you hear him ask you, through the cigar, softly, yet his Birmingham accent present, looking down at you.

“Yeah, thanks...” you mutter, your light London accent contrasting his, as you straighten yourself, avoiding to look at him, still stubbornly furious at this wedding.

The rest of both families now finally find places to stand for the photograph. As the photographer announces the photo will be taken, Thomas snakes his arm around your waist, catching you off guard as he pulls you closer to him, your arm unconsciously resting onto his back, hand placed onto your shoulder. The Spanish men depart, moving away from others, you notice and can’t help but feel a hint of panic growing within you, you weren’t aware of their presence being made at the wedding.

As the photographer states that the photo has been taken, both families now disperse, mingling with each other. You notice how John and your younger brother getting along, having a laugh with one another. Yet your mind is still on those group of lads.

Family and friends now gather around you - same with your husband, you feel arms wrap around you in a friendly hug, you then notice it's your best friend, your chosen bridesmaid.

“I told you it'll be alright.” she mutters into your ear.

Unable to hide your light smile, you step back, letting go of her. “Don't get too full of yourself.” you mutter back, teasingly. She now moves to the side, as your mother embrace you. “Your father would be proud.” your mum states, cupping your face, smiling lightly.

You smile very lightly, placing your hands upon your mothers. “For dad.” you mutter.

Time passes, family and friends congratulate the newly weds. Finally, your uncle approaches, patting Thomas on the back, congratulating him and the rest of the Shelby family, the rest of your family following along on bidding their now in-laws a congrats, the Spanish not to be seen.

After a while, the party makes their way to the Arrow House for the reception. Thomas makes his way towards you, placing his hand on the low of your back, guiding you towards the chariot.

“Let's take you to your new home, aye?” he says as he helps you up into the chariot.

“I can get on it myself.” you snap lightly towards him, refusing his help, causing his corner of his lip to curl upwards into a very tiny smirk.

The ride to the Arrow House was silent. As the chariot approaches your new home, you can't help but notice how gorgeous the victorian house is. You look up mesmerised by the beauty. Thomas notices but doesn't say anything, instead he gets off the carriage and puts his hands out to help you down, which at first you refused to take, until you realised your wedding dress weighs you down, giving you a high chance to face plant the floor. Stepping into the house, you look around, captivated by its stunning decor, looking at the paintings with decorate the walls. The wedding party follows behind, cheering and laughing with one another.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Shelby.” you hear an older woman say, you turn your head to where the voice was coming from, realising it was a maid.

“Is everything set, Frances?” he mutters, exhaling smoke.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she replies.

Everyone settles in, music erupts in the hall, couples singing and dancing, getting drunk and high. You observe around the room, figuring out where the Spanish lads have wondered off too.

A woman, seeming a couple of years younger smiles at you, “Welcome to the Family.” she passes you a glass of irish whiskey. “I'm Ada, Ada Thorne, Tommy's younger sister.”

You gladly take the whiskey offered to you, taking a long needed sip, “Thanks, Ada, i'm y/n I/n-”

“Shelby.” Ada corrects, a light smirk plastered on her face as she sips on her own glass of whiskey.

“Oh don’t worry, darling, you’ll be hearing ‘Mrs.Shelby’ all the time, it’ll stick.” an older woman speaks, smirking at you, standing next to Ada, sipping on her champagne.

Ada then speaks up, gesturing over to the woman beside her who looks you up and down, “This is Aunt Polly.”

“If Tommy ever lays a finger on you, or even says or does something horrible, you come straight to me.” Aunt Polly added in a strong womanly tone, “I’ll sort the man out.”

You and Ada let out a light chuckle.

“Pol, you’re making him seem like he’s fucking crazy!” Ada states.

As you’re in a commotion with the two shelby’s, drifting the worry caused by the Spanish off your mind, giggling whilst drinking, your older sister and your 5 year old niece, walks over to you. Your niece then smiles up at you, embracing you, you lift her up, and let her nuzzle into you. Your sister leans over and whispers in slight worry into your ear. “y/n, I don’t know where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) is looking for him, Mum’s just told me there’s unwanted guests here, I think it’s the Spanish.”

As she speaks your smile falters, the two Shelby’s notice the change of your dementor and how panicked your older sister seemed. “Is everything alright, loves?” polly asks, her happiness now being replaced with concern.

“I- yeah…” you mutter out, staring at your sister in disbelief, you then look around the hall, downing the rest of the whiskey and putting the glass down, “I saw a couple of them…”

“And you didn’t think of telling us?” your older sister says, in a more lecturing tone, backing up, so she can see your face.

“I-” you try to reason, but judging on the look on her face, you knew there was no point, you look around the room, trying to spot any of the Spanish, or anyone involved with them.

“What's going on?” Polly now questions more seriously, Ada now backing her up.

Your sister turns to face your in-laws, “There's uninvited guests here, some of our enemies...”

Polly's face darkens and Ada's brows rise.

Polly then turns her head looking around and then her gaze lands on 3 young lads. She takes a couple of steps across the room.

“Mum?” one of the younger lads, seeming the eldest out the three, furrows his brows up at polly, and then eyes you and the others around you, “Is everything alright?”

“Micheal, I want you to go to Tommy and let him know there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Aunt Polly states in an authoritative tone, “Isaiah, Finn, just keep an eye out for the Spanish.”

All three boys nod and does as they're told.

The door to Thomas' office gets swung open, revealing a panicked Micheal, “Tommy!”

The Shelby gangster looks up from the paperwork, a string of smoke releasing his lips, he promised to polly that it would take only a couple of minutes, yet has been stuck in his office for half an hour, “Micheal, what's wrong?”

“Tommy, there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Micheal walks towards his desk, eyeing the paperwork.

Tommy then stands up from his seat, stubbing his cigar out, placing his pistol into his holster, “Make sure everyone stays put, Micheal.”

Thomas leaves the office, Micheal following behind into the hall.

“John, Arthur!” He motions for the two to come over, joining your sister and niece, your mother, your auntie, polly, Isaiah, Finn ada, esme, Micheal and himself.

As the family has all came together, your mother begins to fill the family in on how no one knows where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) are looking for him as well as the fact there are unwanted Spanish enemies here, as guests.

Tommy looks around the group.

“Is everythin' alright?” Arthur asks his younger brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Where the fuck's my wife?” he spits out in protectiveness, his gaze darting around the room for his spouse. You're his wife now, you're his woman now, you're his responsibility.

“She was with us a moment ago.” ada blurts out, worry overtaking her body, worried for her sister in law she just grew a strong bond over.

“Where is she now!?”

“Who's that?” Esme states, motioning over towards an older lad, who's walking at a fast paste, across the dance floor, standing out, like a white crayon in a box full of black ones.

Everyone looks at the guy Esme gestures towards.

“John, Arthur, come with me. Everyone else, keep guarded.” Tommy then follows the older man with his two brothers following behind.

“Mum, she'll be fine, she's capable of anything.” your older sister wraps her arms around your mum's shoulders, assuring her you're fine. Polly passes her a glass of whiskey, knowing how the worry feels, as she felt the same when Tommy, John and Arthur went off to war.

“She's a strong woman.” your auntie adds.

“Auntie y/n the best!” your niece butts in, making the family chuckle.

Your fist meets one of the Spanish men's nose, causing him to stumble back into the wall holding onto his broken, bloody nose, a couple of the enemies lay on the floor, dead, blood covering your white wedding gown.

“You bitch!” a strong Spanish accent is heard behind you, causing you to turn and grab the wrist that was aimed at you, pulling the lad forward, putting him into a headlock, “Oh, I'm the bitch?” you sarcastically spit out, facing him towards the other man, him watching as you shoot the man in the headlock, dropping dead.

The guy with the broken nose looks at you in horror, horrified at what such a pretty, naive-looking woman could do, he clearly underestimated you. You're no naive woman, you're a woman with power and intelligence. In your eyes, no msn can own you, snd you'll make sure that Thomas Shelby's well aware of that.

Another bullet releases from your pistol, piercing the heart. He falls dead. As the bullet was shot, you get pushed to the side, harshly against the wall, getting pinned. You groan at the harsh contact. The man lifts his gun up. Unable to react in time, he wacks the gun across your face, face snapping to the right, pain shoots through, a few cuts begin to let out blood. Without being able to process what just happened, he punches you, your face snapping the other direction. You let out a painful grunt.

A cold, metal barrel meets your chin, face now tilting up, looking at him coldly and with deadly eyes, even though he could end your life in seconds.

“I knew you were sexy, but I didn't think that having you under me, with the ability to end your life in seconds could be sexier.” he growls out in a strong Spanish accent, “What should I do hm, darling? You've killed all the others.”

You stare up at the man as he looks you up and down, checking you out in the bloody white wedding gown with the stained veil decorating your head.

He then grinds his hips into yours, causing you to back yourself more into the wall, you've never felt so vulnerable, “Should I fuck you and then kill you, or just kill you, huh? What would your husband think when he sees you dead, my cum traveling down your legs?”

You close your eyes, not wanting to look at the older man, disgusted, “You dirty fucking bastard.” you mutter out, clearly not wanting to admit how you're in a dead end.

That earned another sack across your face, you whine out in pain, the gun barrel retuning to where it first laid. He clearly didn't like your attitude.

Bang.

part three out now!

dm to be added on the taglist!

taglist: @meadowshelby @iceyyycapsicle @lunxrstellx @jbrownta

[chillian-murphy]

🍆CHARACTERS REACTING TO FINDING YOUR ONLYFANS/OTHER NUDES🍆

Tommy and Kitten were around way before the internet so I tried to write them as finding their eras' equivalents but believe it or not it's kinda hard to find historical info on people self-distributing erotic material of themselves so. Yeah. Also general warning for Jackson and Jonathan being weirdos who don't understand boundaries, as usual.

TOMMY SHELBY 

*When you posed topless for extra cash, you were assured that the photos wouldn't be distributed anywhere near Birmingham and that your anonymity would be maintained 

*What you weren't counting on, however, was local gangster Tommy Shelby making frequent trips to London and perusing the latest illicit erotic material, both for business and pleasure

*It took him a while to recognize you as he flipped through the photo cards of you and another young woman cheekily feeling each other's breasts, but once he realized you lived in Birmingham, he quickly pocketed the photos.

*He contemplated using the photos to blackmail you on his drive home, but realized that it you probably didn't have enough money to make it worthwhile. 

*The photos remained hidden aware in his desk, largely forgotten except for days when he catches you running errands around town or on especially lonely nights

*On one such night after too much stress and too much gin, he found himself drafting a note to be delivered to you

*”I greatly enjoyed your work in London. Let me know if you’d like to make some real money." 

JACKSON RIPPNER 

*He finds your OnlyFans while doing routine research for his next job

*He's not surprised that you're doing online sex work, you’ve been under significant financial stress lately and need every extra penny you can scrounge up.

*In fact, your money woes were the vulnerable point that made you an attractive target for his work

*There was nothing particularly unique about the content you made, mostly pictures taken using a mirror or videos of you rubbing yourself, complete with exaggerated porno moans

*Still, Jackson’s dick couldn't help but twitch when he thought about how desperate you must be to do this, you're clearly in over your head and have no idea what you're doing beyond “I think this is what girls in porn do." 

*He's incredibly tempted to send you requests for increasingly degrading acts, attached to tips that would be far too large for you to turn down, just to see how far he can push you, but no, he needs you broke and desperate for his upcoming plans to work.

*He slams his laptop shut and gets back to planning the minutiae of running into you “by chance" and bribing you into handing over your work credentials. “See you soon, whore." 

JONATHAN CRANE

*Nobody could deny the sparks between you. After all, why else would you smile as you rang him up for his coffee every morning?

*You even had your own little pet name for him, “Joe-Nathan", which you wrote on his cup.

*So really, engaging in some light cyberstalking was just him playing along with what you started.

*His heart dropped when you saw your profile, even though it was under a different name than the one on your name tag, it was undeniably you, bearing yourself to anyone who was willing to pay $10 a month for a subscription.

*How much of his tip money was going towards the lingerie that you were shamelessly rolling around in for the camera

*As much as Jonathan wants to get mad, he tells himself that he needs to make a mature, rational decision. Instead, he shall merely get petty.

*He leaves several comments and small tips, all signed as Joe-Nathan.

*He can't wait to see you bright and early for his morning coffee tomorrow.

ROBERT FISCHER 

*Truth be told, Robert doesn't look at much porn. If he wants to see someone naked, he can use either his money or his status to have someone in his bed within the hour.

*However, when security notified him of suspicious activity on the company wifi, he was urged to look into it himself.

*It was you and another low level employee, uploading videos of yourselves fucking in increasingly recognizable rooms within a Fischer-Marrow building, starting with bathrooms and supply closets, all the way up to offices and conference rooms with the company logo in plain view.

*Robert knew the expected, professional response would be to fire you both, possibly get legal involved, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn't had his own dalliances in that same conference room.

*”Thank you for notifying me. I’ll look into this further and make sure appropriate measures are taken," he gave with his most reassuring faux-concerned frown as he shooed his security officers out of the room and shouted for his assistant to clear his schedule for the next few hours.

*Once he was sure he was alone, he began perusing the videos you’ve made, palming himself through his pants

*After coming to a particularly titillating video of you being eaten out in one of the glass elevators, he sends you and your partner a $1,000 tip

*”Glad to see my employees are hard at work." 

NEIL LEWIS

*You and Neil had talked about how hard it is making a living as small business owners, but he hadn't quite figured out what you meant by “I have a back-up gig" until he was falling down another pornography rabbit hole and saw your page

*Holy shit are you topless? 

*He hasn't been able to stop thinking about your boobs since the day you came into Gumshoe wearing a sundress and no bra. 

*Well now he's gotta check and see if there's more

*THERE'S MORE

*He's liking pictures left and right, not worrying about you knowing it's him because he uses a fake name on porn sites

*...except he does use the Gumshoe business email address

*shitshitshitshitSHITSHITSHITSHIT

*Now all of China the Downtown Small Business Owners Association knows he's here horny.

*Tips you $100 with the message “SORRY”

KITTEN BRADEN

*Out of everyone, she's the least surprised to see you selling photos of yourself. After all, you met working at the peep show.

*She had started watching the other girls during her breaks, both for entertainment and for inspiration 

*After all, there's only so many times you can moan “I want your cock soooo bad" to a hole in the wall before going a little insane from boredom.

*She became intrigued when she saw you slipping an envelope under the door to a client and getting cash in return, not knowing what it was. Was it drugs? Love letters? Were you blackmailing him?

*You laughed when she tried to interrogate you, clearly wanting a dramatic answer.

*”It's just nudie photos. One of my customers has a darkroom and develops them for me in exchange for getting to keep copies for himself. I sell them to my regulars to help make a little extra on the side.”

*Sure enough, when she ripped open the envelope, it was a tasteful spread of, well, your spread.

*It was a much less dramatic of an answer than she was hoping for, but goddamn if it wasn't kind of genius.

*”Perchance, have you ever considered doing these photos with another girl?”