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artemuerto · 1 month

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Lurking

Pairings: Allison Cameron/Robert Chase. Implied Robert Chase/Gregory House. Implied Allison Cameron/Gregory House.

Trigger Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. Alpha Gregory House. Beta Allison Cameron. Omega Robert Chase.

Author's note: I've been rewatching House since it came on Netflix and I am flooded with nostalgia and feelings. I've been dying to write something for House and Chase but my brain is till focus on getting Chase off Cameron and then this happened.

Read on AO3

"You and I are not the same, Cameron." Chase exhales in fear. He is willing to tell the truth.

This tiny thought and wonder around reasons why House hires them in the first place —the sweet and evenly hurtful murmur of him and her being there only for House's sore eyes, it's all time consuming. House openly admits admiring them both, no discrimination whatsoever. And that pleases him and her.

Now, hiding in her flat, sharing her bed, he can show her the truth. The thing House has known all along but took him time to discover. They seem similar and equally different: tomato, tomato.

"You had a date," Chase gives her an easy image. "You were with him. Did you see him?" Cameron is intelligent enough to realize there's a hidden meaning, but even in all her innocence, she is still confused.

"Of course I saw him. He was with me." She frowns in thought and it's clear to Chase she is trying to think back.

"When you see him..." He is now holding her face with both hands, obligating her to find him, to learn and see. "You expect him to change." The reality is solemn and her face crumbles.

"I'm not—" I'm not trying to change him, goes unsaid.

"But you are." A lock of his hair falls in. "When you see him... You expect him to notice." He offers in kind. "You expect him to notice you. You expect him to care. You expect him to care for you. You expect him to love. You expect him to love you." Not that Cameron doesn't have redeemable qualities. She is young, smart, caring and emphatic; she is lovely. She can be loveable. And so, she awaits, she knows she has value and eagerly awaits for House to accept that value. "House won't do that." The spark of pain hurts them in symmetry and Chase feels guilty for causing it.

Chase is so close that she can feel him, his warm breath, the soft fading scent of mint, brushing lips bring memories of passion, only that would get them distracted, however.

"When I see him..." and there it is, the constriction of his whole being and the new born sensation of life. Chase seems to lose himself and Cameron brings him back with a hand around his wrist.

She looks invested. "When you see him..." And he pushes them foward. "You feel the soft tingling in your hands and the nervous sweat behind your neck. Your tummy forms a knot which only seems to increase size when he comes close. You smile and your eyes light up." Cameron is up fronted by such clear definition of her feelings when all this time she has been thinking only House could read her in. Chase offers a meek apology.

"When I see him," there's a shift in the air. The bed becomes heavier, he probes and her eyes zoom-in. His alluring voice traps her, giving her a overpowering sense of connection. He encompasses her as a whole. Her skin becomes heated, her heartbeat rises up. "When I know he is near... I can sense him." He stares down, locking her in place. "Even floors apart, I know he is in there." Chase rests her forehead against hers. "When I stand next to him... I can taste him." Her mouth feels dry and the light brush of his tongue on her cheek feels electrifying." Even far away, I can smell him." He takes her breath away, her senses fill in with a new undertone, an unrecognizable shade of known. His kisses are deep and long as they are delicious, they hold no weight, no rush but they melt away everything she knows until the only thought available is him.

House is everything she sees, everything she hears, all she can taste, all she can feel and it overwhelms her to the point of tears. As if she has been drowning all along and she is able to reach the surface for the first time.

He steals her voice, though she doesn't need it.

"When I see him... I can breathe."

Gasping for air, heart drumming in her ears; the world appears to spin round and round, Cameron thinks she still hears the whispers behind her neck.

Chase is not forceful. He may not look into her eyes anymore, although he is not intent on hurting. Cameron relives the feeling of him filling the condom, tightened and sealed, it's soon forgotten as he slides out leaving her with a clean hollow sensation of emptiness. He has given her everything and now he is taking it all away, taking it back hidden where it doesn't belong.

He shamelessly cleans himself, he has made a mess. Cameron ponders the possibility of him being the only responsible for the mess they lie in, in between his legs is still tender.

He denies her fully now. However, he offers the comfort of touch, a lingering hand behind her neck where soothing love should be and retaliates.

"You and I are not the same."

Foreman corners Chase in the locker room.

And now he will see, he has always foreseen what rules in his kingdom, this would not be any different. First thing in the morning, it's clear as the blue sky above their heads. House crosses the lobby while indignation creeps into him, he doesn't even know why. Yet.

"Did you break Cameron's little heart?" Chase is keeping his bag close and sits. It's quite the opposite, actually. Though, he'll never say.

Opening the door to his office, House is hit by the burning recognition of l o s t. All his ducklings are in the playground: Foreman looking busy and about with a medical magazine in between hands. Cameron is sorting out folders, searching for a new case; occasionally talking to her peers for input, her scent has become meek. House has been so used to the polluted aroma of lilies that now being deprived of it threatened to give him a headache.

Cameron's scent is dim and watered-down, it brings up questions which are dying at the tip of his tongue. But it's only when a freshly served cup of coffee is given, House identifies a missing puzzle piece.

There's nothing coming from Chase. It's not new for doctors to hide their scent; blockers and suppressors available in the market nowadays, soft dented perfumes on display to offer comfort to possible patients, and considering their differences: Foreman being the only Alpha after himself, Cameron being a Beta and Chase guarding the fact he is an Omega as much as he wears it in pride.

All of their scents balance each other creating a mellow net of safety within the department, rumours could be heard about it.

And now a piece is missing.

There's nothing House's sharp senses cannot detect. There's not even a lingering whiff of honeysuckle, rose wine or cream, the scents he commonly comes to associate with the youngest duckling.

He is received with medical antiseptics and cleaning products. It feels as if it were meant to wound, which it does even if they can't place it right away or there's no reason for him to even spot it. There's no doubt. He has no proof but he is nonetheless certain.

And it makes him want to scream. Mine.

"No." He swears.

No, Foreman has it all wrong, he doesn't understand. No one does. So he shakes his head, hair brushing on his sides, giving him an acute softness Foreman is not used to see, he is more accustom to think it is all a lie. And Foreman catches a fleeting look, fading in smoke, a look in Chase's eyes, so ephemeral he almost wonders if he is imagining things. Oh, my, look at those eyes, look at the trouble they hide inside. Believe it or not Foreman swears to see pain in those eyes.

"She broke mine."

#House MD #Gregory House #Robert Chase #Allison Cameron #Gregory House x Robert Chase #Allison Cameron x Robert Chase #arte muerto

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artemuerto · 3 years

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Buenos días, tardes, noches everyone~

Esta es una simple publicación de relleno para desempolvar este espacio y organizar todos las nuevas historias que están en proceso de ser terminadas y publicadas.

Además he comenzado a trabajar en un Ko-fi, pronto les proporcionaré un link.

No es para nada obligatorio, ya que el solo hecho de que mis historias sean de su agrado --nuevas o viejas-- es lo mejor que me pasa en la vida.

Aunque solo soy un tutor de ingles a medio tiempo que busca sobrevivir.

#Transición #Arte Muerto #Mis Escritos

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artemuerto · 3 years

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yo accidentalmente sigo contestando mensajes con los blogs equivocados (?) @nowherecarlos muchas gracias por leer, en serio me alegra mucho que te haya gustado~ :3

Cry for Me

En una gran ciudad donde las luces engañan, se hacen pasar por calidez reconfortante cuando en realidad solo son mentiras luminiscentes, pensamientos efímeros casi etéreos que desaparecen en un parpadeo.

Para ser el hijo heredero de Corporaciones Choi, todo el prestigio, fuerza y serenidad que devenía con el nombre parecía estar reducida a escombros mientras el joven de veinticinco años permanecía con la mirada perdida en el vacío, mente divagando en cavilaciones indecisas e indefinidas.

Choi Minho, hijo único y conocido heredero de las Corporaciones Choi, destinado a tomar control de la compañía multimillonaria a tan solo días. Toda su vida había estado dedicada a ese momento, su excelente rendimiento escolar, sus aptitudes deportivas y competitivas además de su educación y buenos modales; era el perfecto ejemplo de sueño realizado. De padres alegres y afectuosos siempre que se tratase sobre su persona, de carisma que flameaba con una intensidad que hacía resplandecer sus ojos cafés.

No está seguro de cuantas horas llevaba en aquel local, ni siquiera estaba seguro de conocer el local o mucho menos como había llegado a él, había sido su destino por mera coincidencia en donde sus pies armaban su camino al andar aun siendo poco consciente.

Por su garganta se desliza líquido obscuro y amargo en un vago intento de querer olvidar las imágenes obscenas que aun rondaban su cabeza.

Todo estaba marchando a la perfección, las reuniones necesarias había sido llevadas a cabo y los altos mandos de la Junta Directiva estaban en absoluto acuerdo, era el momento justo para el retiro permanente del cabecilla de la gran corporación orgullo de la economía en Seúl y todos esperaban en sutil ansiedad la toma de puesto de su hijo, el orgullo de la familia.

Así que el encontrar a su padre aun en su oficina pasada las horas de trabajo con una jovencita que bien debía tener su misma edad, con la falda levantada y varios botones de la blusa desabrochados era una visión para la cual no estaba preparado.

Justo por eso se encontraba horas más tarde escondido como un pequeño que ha hecho alguna travesura y será regañado por sus padres. Bufa ante su propio tren de pensamiento y da otro sorbo a su bebida sintiendo los labios arder.

Casi puede sentir sus mejillas arden ante un creciente sonrojo avergonzado que se extiende por todo su cuello como si de un estudiante se tratase y no el futuro de toda una empresa. Un camarero le ofrece un nuevo trago y el acepta sin chistar dejándose embriagar por la amargura del alcohol.

La iluminación cambia de forma repentina y le toma unos cuantos momentos darse cuenta de tal acción, tarda en darse cuenta el cambio de ambiente en el local. Ahora su atención se posa en lo que parecía un escenario escondido bajo la obscuridad que ahora se daba por conocido gracias a las tenues luces, un solo micrófono posado en el centro de dicho espacio, daba un efecto casi fantasmal puesto que no había nadie que estuviese allí para utilizarlo o eso creía hasta que en un rápido parpadeo una figura se posa frente al instrumento.

Poco a poco la música comienza a llenar la instancia, un sonido hipnotizante llega a sus oídos; una tonada cautivante y la luz lentamente comienza a enfocar aquella silueta que parecía desdibujarse frente al micrófono.

El whisky queda olvidado más su dedos aun sostienen el vaso de forma cuidadosa y su atención se concentra absolutamente el aquel ser que tenía frente suyo. Un joven que en una mera mirada parecía tener su misma edad o quizás algunos años menos, su cabello negro caía un tanto desordenado a los lados de su rostro, brillando en contraste a la luz; vestía todo de negro, unos pantalones con alguna rasgadura en las rodillas y una camisa de botones que mostraba retazos de piel y un enorme abrigo de piel, el cual le parecía un tanto innecesario dentro del lugar puesto que él se sentía más que cómodo, aunque quizás fuese más bien efecto de la bebida que consumía desde su llegada.

Anillos adornaban sus delicadas manos y sus ojos enmarcados en delineador los hacían más llamativos; algo sobre su presencia en sí lo hacía un tanto misterioso, intrigante, pero cualquier pensamiento superficial sobre su apariencia queda escondido bajo la subconsciencia al momento que sus labios se separan para comenzar a inundar la instancia con su voz.

Lo estoy intentando, todo lo que he hecho por ti, tú dices que no es cierto, que no ocurrió.

Acércate, dímelo más claro. Mírame a los ojos y hablemos, después límpiate esas lágrimas.

Ambas manos se posan sobre el micrófono mientras su cuerpo comienza a danzar despacio a compás de la canción mientras canta esa tonada melancólica y dolida. Cualquier pensamiento que le hubiese perturbado hasta ese momento parece desaparecer de su memoria a un lugar inhóspito y olvidado de su subconsciente; nada era lo suficientemente importante en ese momento, nada más que aquel muchacho de mirada afligida y enfocada que envolvía la sala entera entre palabras dolidas y entonación dulce.

No puedo dejarte ir, no te olvidare. No mientas, esta noche.

Por favor quédate aquí, permanece radiantemente bella. No llores, no llores.

¿Por qué? ¿Por qué me decepcionas? Deja, ya no te necesito más. No puedo ver, las lágrimas no me dejan.

Su voz resuena poderosa y llena de sentimiento, se desliza por el escenario como si fuese totalmente natural tal estado y de sus labios escapan sonidos abrumadores y adictivos que parecen alejar su conciencia, y así de inesperado como inició, así la presentación se dio por culminada.

Las luces se apagan dejando todo ser envuelto por negrura que le hace dudar de sanidad, ¿acaso de verdad había presenciado tal acto o solo se trataba de una visión de su cerebro llena de malicia? En un ademan alza su vaso a modo de saludo y bebe el resto del licor sintiendo una vez más sus mejillas arder.

Se hunde en pensamientos obscuros una vez despierto de su ensoñación. Su mente repasa de cuenta nueva la razón por la que se encontraba en tal estado de inquietud y un suspiro deja la seguridad de su boca sin saber muy bien que hacer ahora.

Sentía que todo por lo que había luchado y creído se desvanecía frente a sus ojos como arena entre las manos. ¿Qué podía hacer ahora? ¿Cómo debería actuar ahora? Él no se sentía preparado para tomar acción, no tenía la más mínima idea de cómo continuar ahora. Lo único que parecía poder expresar era la plena y pura vergüenza que sentía consigo mismo, por su padre, por él, por su madre, por la compañía, por cualquier persona que alguna vez sintió respeto por lo que el nombre Choi representaba.

¿Por qué? ¿Por qué me decepcionas?

Esas curiosas palabras resuenan en su mente y suspira de nuevo.

Desconcentrado de sus alrededores es incapaz de percatarse del cuerpo que se sienta a su lado en el bar, solo alza el rostro al sentir que le penetran con la mirada. Teniendo frente suyo a aquel ser que minutos u horas antes había estado frente a todos deleitando con su voz; el chico le observaba con detenimiento colgando una leve sonrisa en los labios y manteniendo su rostro con una mano.

—Estamos a punto de cerrar—el tono de su voz es suave un contraste algo extraño ante la imagen que había quedado plasmada en su imaginación. Asiente despacio y parpadea varias veces para estar seguro de lo que está viendo ganando así una nueva sonrisa por parte del joven que tenía en frente. Su cerebro registra segundos más tarde que es momento de marcharse y en un ademán toma el vaso y hace mímica de beber un sorbo aunque la copa ya se encontraba vacía.

El chico se levanta con los ojos fijos en su persona sin dejar de sonreír y le sirve por una última vez.

—Por la casa—le ve alzar un vaso a modo de brindis y la imagen se le hace un tanto adorable arrancándole una sonrisa a medias, asiente y bebe del licor para luego dejar el vaso olvidado en el bar.

A las puertas del local se sorprende de su sentido de dirección el cual no parece estar muy afectado aun en su estado de embriaguez y es allí cuando se percata que en verdad era el último cliente del lugar; incluso varias luces se encontraban ya apagadas, ¿entonces por qué?

Permanece radiante. No llores, no llores.

Vuelve a dudar de su sanidad al escuchar esas palabras nuevamente y se gira con prisa encontrando solo una nueva sonrisa por parte del moreno; sus ojos convertidos en medias lunas ante lo amplio de dicha expresión y no puede evitar sonreír de regreso.

Aun no cree haber encontrado una solución a su problema pero por alguna extraña razón ya no sentía esa extraña opresión en el pecho ante las circunstancias a las que debía enfrentarse; caso contrario, se sentía ameno y relajado, como si no fuese un gran esfuerzo enmendar el daño causado y evitar que fuese aún mayor.

—Gracias—habla en un suspiro dudando si ha sido escuchado o no puesto que ahora el local se encontraba completamente cubierto de negro.

La noche fría le recibe y le despeina el cabello logrando que las orejas ardan ante la ventisca inesperada, frota ambas manos tratando en vano de traer a sí algo de calor y comienza a caminar las calles con paso lento. Tarareando muy por lo bajo una tonada casi sensual y adictiva que no paraba de sonar en su cabeza.

Sea quien fuese y como fuese que lo hubiese logrado, había calmado su intranquilo corazón y le había brindado una nueva perspectiva; más por ahora solo podía resolver todo aquello que le preocupaba, ya en otro momento podría volver.

Si, volvería solo para verle cantar una vez más.

No puedo dejarte ir, no te olvidare.

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artemuerto · 3 years

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“Un día el destino encontrará la manera de volvernos a encontrar, y será solo para hablar de lo bien que ha ido la vida desde que ya no estamos juntos.”

— La sinfonía del alma.

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artemuerto · 4 years

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oh dear god-- en serio? te la has leído ya 4 veces? no tienes idea de como me alegras la vida. Miles de muchisimas gracias, por leer y ya no sé que más decir. porque en serio me siento: asdfghjkl //incoherencias felices.

Shelby Household Manor

Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader

Trigger Warnings: None. Unnecessary fluff.

Autor Note: You can take this as the original bonus, because while i was doing some research for a new story this idea got stuck in my head, it seems like the Shelby House won't let us go just yet.

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Leisure

Bonus #2

—7—

His presence was easily known by the man even with his eyes closed. The Shelby’s stayed outdoors for the clear and cloudy mornings were the weather wasn’t freezing. He walked with a slow pace and soon rested his tray on top of the table and while the young servant served the seemly napping Shelby, he could hear the easy, happy giggles from Charlie who was riding his new horse with mister Johnny. The fading clicking sound of the teacup alerted Tommy enough to tilt his head and looked at his servant. In response, the young one smiled brightly and gave the man a cup of warm black tea, it lacked sugar and milk and would never come close to the comfort Tommy felt from whiskey, but the head of the house found himself willing enough to at least indulge his servant into healthier beverages, at least, in the mornings. Later on, would said servant reach out for a bottle and a shiny glass to please his master.

Tommy accepted the cup with a soft lingering touch. Their relationship had grown in the long passing nights turned spring with the breeze of fresh air and blooming of flowers; Tommy was drawn to small, comforting touches that reassured him, his boy was alright. A brush of fingertips when delivering, short glazes in a room full of people, a fleeting hand on a shoulder for a request or the ghost transitory feeling of knuckles behind his back after leaving a room. Mister Shelby’s grown affection was not overbearing but always welcome, it made the boy feel safe. The boy was about to give Tommy another cigarette when Charlie demanded their attention.

Charlie was running toward them, they could hear him as the youngest Shelby scream for his father and later on for the boy standing besides him; Charlie had grown close to the boy to the point where he would only listen to the servant opposite to his father, the rest of the Shelby’s fought over that fact but also loved to tease the poor boy who flustered in shame, muttering apologies. In Charles’ eyes he was part of his family and the Shelby’s not only knew it but accepted as well. Charlie rested in his father’s arms only to beg moments after to be put on the boy’s arms later, even if he was growing tall for the touch to be comforting anymore, Charlie was never denied in cares.

“Dad! I’m able to ride the whole course.” Charlie informed showing his proud smile. The boy had been struggling to stay on his horse long enough to finish his ride around the stables, the animal is not wild but restless, listens to Charlie with a sharp intelligence that only makes Tommy glad but between his boy’s eagerness and the horse’s need to move freely, they have a lot to work on yet. “You should come ride with us.” Charlie said the servant making Tommy have a sip from his tea and wait for a positive answer. The boy smiled not reaching his eyes and shook his head no.

“I don’t ride.” Charlie instead of being sad from that statement looked more perplexed.

“Why?” By now, Tommy’s curiosity was peaked, he didn’t know the answer either.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

And so, of course, that meant both Shelby’s were on their way to teach him how to be on a horse. They didn’t use Charlie’s horse, the poor boy still getting used to Charlie’s way to put him through all that all over again with another person. No, Tommy used one of his own, one horse he used to ride but not for the races, one of the couple he thought truly keeping for himself and finally doing so. The servant followed in awe as his master rode the animal with grace and expertise. Thomas came close to dismount the beast and walked guiding him by the hand so his servant could have a better look. The boy looked strangely afraid and Tommy had to ask.

“Are you alright?” The boy nodded fast and short but Tom was not convinced. Thomas held a hand for his young boy and waited until said boy was braved enough to comply. He could feel the younger one trembling hand.

“I’m scared of horses.” The young one confessed feeling silly for showing such fear in front of a man who could tame them in a heartbeat. Thomas hid a smile for the honesty in his boy’s words and shook his head resting importance to those words, there was nothing wrong with the boy for showing his fears and concerns. Tommy led him to animal and made him touch it first.

“It’s ok, love. He won’t hurt you. All you have to do is know him.” The young boy blushed feeling embarrassed at the dotting manner mister Shelby had, it was not common but not do far fetch and still made him feel odd. The sweet kindness and the share comfort was something he had troubles getting used to, however, mister Shelby never called him on it.

The boy touched the horse’s head and slowly caressed feeling the smoothness of its fur shinning in the morning sun, the animal seemed to catch on his uneasiness and stood still as if waiting to be inspected.

“Hello, beautiful.” The boy continued to feel the horse, slowly getting accustomed as the animal waited and watched, looking pleased to be pampered.

They kept walking around discovering each other under Tommy’s watchful eyes, never he left the servant alone even when Charlie wanted his attention, wanted to play and also ride. Johnny came close after hours stating Tommy was needed in a family meeting. Charlie walked with him by his hand and Tommy on the other side as plans were made for more mornings to come.

—8—

The afternoon sun was dying behind their backs. The young servant had had troubles finding his way and footing closer to the horse but both animal and owner had been patience with his fears, shaky limbs and concerns; by now, the young boy could sit with a saddle on, the first tries had been without one and the boy joked about being a gypsy superstition for his master but after the cold overpowering stared he had for doubting the man’s belief, servant stayed silent accepting his order. Mister Shelby took pity of him and his seemly sadness at not believing his master’s intentions.

“I told you before. You have to know him.” Tommy said placing a comforting hand on his back, low enough to reach the boy’s waist. “If you use a seat right from the beginning, he won’t trust you.” He drank his master’s words and relaxed his shoulders, his whole body turned to the man as his expression let away all his secrets. I’ll trust you no matter what.

He could not lie, the feeling was odd, after struggling to stay on the horse without a saddle, now that he had one —even knowing it should help him now—, he found himself thinking it felt way better being without it. Tommy as if sensing his train of thoughts laughed at his back. For moments, the boy forgot how close they where, mister Shelby convinced him to take a detour as he controlled the horse, riding next to Johnny and Charlie; the young Shelby had been static to know he could keep up with his riding by now, after weeks of practice and a couple of jump scares when he lost control.

The servant boy had fallen not many occasions but one was too many for Thomas’ heart. The Shelby had gone mad in pain seeing how the fragile body of his boy flied seconds before reaching ground with a dry sound, luckily the scared animal had run away from the lying body instead of causing more pain. Tommy had screamed his name in shock and held him in his arms checking he was, in fact, free from harm. The servant was disoriented and his lungs screamed internally for air, but other than bruises, the boy was fine. He had tried to convinced mister Shelby he was ok to walk but the man had refused to let him go, deciding to hold in in his arms and walked all the way back to the house in a steady pace.

He came back to his senses with the strong feeling of Tom’s arms flexing underneath his weight, his warm breath and the beating heart that claimed the servant as his one desire, and the whispering of his master asking whatever deity he believed for the boy to be ok. Needless to say, Charlie stood by his side all night after he went to sleep. What the boy wasn’t sure it was a sleepy dream or a blurry reality was the touch of Tommy’s dry lips on his forehead as he bedded goodnight and a promise of never letting anything happen to him again.

Taking a ride in the afternoons had become a new hobby for the family, Johnny took Charlie while Tommy rode with him, usually letting him practice by taking a hold on the animal and with each passing day, the boy seemed to be getting only better, Charlie used to ask for the servant to ride with him on the way back but Tommy found himself missing the comforting warmth his boy gave to his chest. It was on one of those rides back home where Tommy felt bold enough to make a move.

Feeling the boy shiver due to cold breeze, Tommy made him stay closer, covering him with his coat, he felt the boy melt in his touch and soon, talked in murmurs low enough to make him tremble in a new sense of anticipation. The careful touch of Tommy’s hand through his back, all the way until it rested on his waist, spoke of promises to come.

The slow and smooth steps of the horse only served to make more prominent the sensual touch as they moved as one and finally stood in front of the barn, the sky tainted with dark orange and fading reds. The boy moaned after Tommy left his hands rest on top of the other’s thighs, giving him the freedom to decided, the boy could move away, take Tom’s hands aside and any thought would be forgotten with the sleeping sun, or could let Tommy invaded him forever, made a home for himself within and live under his skin.

Tommy didn’t even try to hide his smirk when his boy’s cheeks lighted in crimson but surprisingly so, his boy retaliated with a kiss.

An innocent touch that connected their lips in a simple brush and took both of their breaths away. Giving Tommy the taste of something so sweet and pure. And his.

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artemuerto · 4 years

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Shelby Household Manor

Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader

Trigger Warnings: None. Unnecessary fluff.

Autor Note: You can take this as the original bonus, because while i was doing some research for a new story this idea got stuck in my head, it seems like the Shelby House won't let us go just yet.

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Leisure

Bonus #2

—7—

“I don’t ride.” Charlie instead of being sad from that statement looked more perplexed.

“Why?” By now, Tommy’s curiosity was peaked, he didn’t know the answer either.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

“Hello, beautiful.” The boy continued to feel the horse, slowly getting accustomed as the animal waited and watched, looking pleased to be pampered.

—8—

Tommy didn’t even try to hide his smirk when his boy’s cheeks lighted in crimson but surprisingly so, his boy retaliated with a kiss.

An innocent touch that connected their lips in a simple brush and took both of their breaths away. Giving Tommy the taste of something so sweet and pure. And his.

#Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Male Reader #tommy shelby x male reader #thomas shelby x male reader #Shelby Household Manor #Peaky Blinders #mis escritos #in english #arte muerto

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artemuerto · 4 years

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#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #s3

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artemuerto · 4 years

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‘Congratulations. Proud of you.’

#i want to count his freckles forever #Shelby Household Manor

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artemuerto · 4 years

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‘In France we used to say.. it’s just the music hall band turning up. It’s just trombones and tubas, that’s all. It’s just noise. You get used to it. It’s just noise. Good boy.’

#Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Shelby Household Manor

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artemuerto · 4 years

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i’ll forever reblog this cos’ gives me tones of domestic feels

MOOD

#Shelby Household Manor #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Male Reader

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artemuerto · 4 years

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Pairing: Bane/Dr. Jonathan Crane

Trigger Warnings: Non-Con elements. Extremely Dubious Consent. Power Imbalance.

Autor Note: I ended reading a story after i found out a couple of ‘crack-ships’ on ao3 because i miss Cillian and wanted to see more Tommy x Male Reader fics (?) somehow i ended on Batman tag and then this happened before i went to sleep.

Someone has to take the internet away from me. And this is all Cillian’s fault.

Read on AO3

Indeed

A little mouse indeed the little doctor was.

Being walked into to the cave that meant Bane’s chamber was oddly comforting. It meant he was no longer an easy pray from all the sleazy, greasy hands that hoped to get a piece of him once he was found. The man standing by the open door waited until Bane gave the Doctor his attention to finally leave.

Jonathan was at lost on what to do. He usually had a good idea on how to deal with people, what they thought and the possible reactions could they have, but in front of the fearless man that was Bane, Crane couldn’t possibly decipher the other’s thoughts. With a silent order and hand movement, Jon came closer to the man sitting at the center, legs spread wide. In a shivering pace, the doctor came close and stood still between Bane’s thighs, even with inches of height separating them Bane had the upper hand and they both knew it.

“Will you take it off?” He questioned Bane over his mask and the man simply said no with a gesture. Jon started to undress, even when he didn’t like the idea of being fully naked in front of Bane, those were his only clothes and he had to take care of them, although knowing that staying under Bane’s protection no other convict would harm him, he could never be to careful. Under watchful eyes, Jonathan stripped and trembled due to the cold air, Mr. Bane seemed pleased with his actions. Kneeling, he caught the others darken eyes. “May I?” Bane wasn’t a man of slow movements and useless foreplay, within his clothes he felt himself already hardening thanks to the beautiful sight the doctor was. All pristine skin, pure as snow with the lack of tainted hardships, bare from hair except for a thin happy trail so light it would almost disappear in shadows. However, he could see a distinguished sparkle of something raw in the doctor’s eyes that made him remain in his place, almost curious as to see what the other would do next.

Jonathan began to toy with the man obvious outlet under the fabric and even when he was not fully interest in sex, he felt an almost clinical curiosity over the man psyche and now he could and would explore the extended reactions to his body. He could see the tiny changes, now they were close, such as the black pools full of lust, and for a moment Jonathan feared Bane would take him and go, however the man left him continue and shortly praise him with a heavy hand on his hair. The touch offered an unknown comfort to both of them.

The doctor took fully control of his body, slowly giving away his tension, relaxing his shoulder and growing bold enough to lay his cheek on Bane’s thigh as he finally undid the trouser and had an open view of the man’s cock. Jon had the brief idea of making Bane come with his hands and mouth but the man himself had foreseen his intentions, so shortly after Jon’s face was blotchy with natural cherry blossom and shiny with saliva, Bane held him by the hair and manhandled him enough to arrange him on his lap.

He had a tight grip on Jonathan’s hips locking him in and taking away any possibility of escaping. Once again Crane was under Bane’s mercy, any deceiving attempt of gaining power and control over the situation, was easily forgotten revealing their true colors and what their relationship would be from now on. Jon felt the hard grit that Bane was, slicking him almost sweetly in juices as a taste of what was to come; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and with a silent plea Jonathan left them on top of Bane’s shoulders, a plain but electrifying touch.

“Mr. Bane.” He whispered in a short breath calling for his attention. Bane finally looked annoyed at being denied and in retaliation scratched Jon’s skin leaving rows of scorching heat; as a result, Jonathan leaned on him arching his back. “Fingers, Mr. Bane.” As soon after, the doctor opened his mouth waiting for his request. Bane looked unimpressed. “You must know the difference from an unwilling body.” Crane was slowly pushing it, to him was obvious that Bane didn’t care for anything else at the moment, his need was stated and pulsing between his legs, and they both knew nothing stopped the bigger man from pushing Jonathan onto the mattress and fucking him raw if that was what he needed. However, a quietly sufficient curiosity was peaked so Bane let it rest, bringing two of his fingers into the doctor’s mouth. Bane would fuck the smugness out of the little doctor.

Even knowing what was next, no mental preparation was enough for the sharp pain that crushed his veins once Bane fingered him smoothly and non-stop until he bottomed fully. In an unspoken rule, Jonathan left his hands where they laid and no amount of discomfort would make him take them away; once again the man seemed pleased with his course of action and rewarded him with another finger. He tried the best he could on keeping his suffering to himself, it was as demeaning as expected to be in that position, to give fully control over himself to someone who he didn’t even trust yet, and so he wouldn’t give Bane or any other listener the pleasure of hear him begging for anything.

Bane felt himself entertained in playing around with the doctor’s body, pushing out, fucking away little whines, tiny squeaks of pain that reminded him of a little mouse. A little mouse indeed the little doctor was. And he would make him squeak and sing songs for his ears only.

Sliding into Jon’s body was a hard task, the doctor’s body still fought him even after his treatment but Bane doubt he had done much for the doctor more than for his own pleasure; in a harsh trust Bane found himself fully surrounded of tight warm heat and it was almost marveled by the thought as much as he was able to hear Jonathan’s whimpers over his mask. The doctor arched his back and was unable to hold himself steady anymore, his muscles screamed what he stayed silent for but even his exhaustion was impossible to hide when Bane kept moving inside him. Jon held onto Bane for leverage and panted against his mask.

Jonathan opened his eyes —not realizing he had them closed— after Bane shifted him with a heavy hand on his hip and the man hid a crocked smiled from the doctor. Tears were fucked out of his eyes but a new sign of twisted pleasured reached them both after realizing Jon’s cock stood hard between them. Bane would leave the doctor spend, full of himself and watch it drip away from the other’s legs.

Catching each other’s eyes, they continued to move as one, feeling the thin line between pain and pleasure slowly become blurry in their needs. He left himself being taken into Bane’s embrace and answered his trust in smooth waves of his hips. Jon flustered his lashes at Bane and only when the man stopped his rapid trusting after coming painting his insides in warm cum, he fucked himself at his own pace. Moving at his own whim taking back his control and pushing Bane into borderline overstimulation, the bright eye doctor creamed himself and Bane’s chest.

Jonathan breathed harshly trying to recover melting into Bane’s touch in the process until he lost his footing. The man manhandled him once again to now leave him resting on where he previously sat and left him go fulfilling his desire of watching himself dripped out from Jon’s legs.

One last time, Jonathan sobbed quietly feeling his body finally relax.

“I told you, you had nothing to fear, Little Mouse.”

#Dr. Jonathan Crane #Bane #Bane/Jonathan Crane #Batman Nolan Movies #Cillian Murphy #Tom Hardy #This is Cillian's fault #in english #mis escritos #Arte Muerto

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artemuerto · 4 years

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excuse me while i whip over his beauty. Kitten is gorgeous.

#Breakfast on Pluto #Cillian Murphy

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artemuerto · 4 years

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i don’t know how old this post really is, in fact, i just randomly found it while drowning in Kitten feels, and after listening to a song on Cillian’s radio show i was strike by a short idea...

Here it is-- an Alfie Solomon/Kitten fic. or at least the beginning of it.

Solider up, Little Fox

I woke up in a shitty mood today. I had a meeting in uni but I didn’t make it becuase anxiety is kicking my ass big time.

So now I’m just trying to think about things that can make me breathe a little easier.

And of course that means that I’m thinking about Tommy and Alfie because they own my life by now.

And I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking about a crossover of Peaky Blinders and Breakfast on Pluto. Like, Alfie that meets Kitten while she’s in London? God help me, why did I have to think about that? It sounds perfect. Because Alfie wouldn’t be able to resist sweet, beautiful Kitten, he would totally take her in and protect her. And Kitten could finally be happy and safe.

I need a fic. Please, someone write a fic about that.

#Breakfast on Pluto #Breakfast on Pluro Crossover #Patricia Kitten Braden #Kitten is a Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomon #Alfie is Smitten #Arte Muerto #Solider up Little Fox #Would you stop asking people for marriage

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artemuerto · 4 years

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Solider up, Little Fox or Would you stop asking people for marriage?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby & Patricia ‘Kitten’ Braden. Alfie Solomon/Kitten

Trigger Warnings: SPOILERS FROM Breakfast On Pluto. Mentions of the movie plot. Kitten is a Shelby. Tommy is a very overprotecting brother. Alfie is smitten.

Autor Note: I saw a post weeks ago and after finally watching Breakfast on Pluto couldn’t help but go back to it. I’ve been having such a Kitten feels lately, i just want her happy. Here’s the post if you are interested.

Solider up, Little Fox.

—1—

“Would you stop asking people for marriage already?” Thomas stormed by the doors calling for attention as the rest of the family sat easily around the rooms. Arthur and John were playing cards while Ada walked gingerly with her baby in arms lulling his to sleep; aunt Polly came from the kitchen followed by a confused Alfie who had been chatting business with the woman over tea when all commotion was heard. The family stood still curious about the voices heard, they could all effortlessly decipher Tommy’s voice with his usual stress, the raspy command and need for order and solution what they could not recognize was sultry, silky, sulky voice that answer him in whispers with such sweetness and longing that almost broke their hearts.

“But he said yes, Tommy. He said yes to me. He said he would marry me.” The voices were shifting away and with them silent was all they had. Thomas’ steps weren’t loud nor heavy but carried a swift of determination into whatever plan he was webbing in his head. Ada was the first one to react hugging her baby as if Tommy would go into the room any time and cause a scene wit his anger.

“What the fuck?” Alfie questioned to no one in particular, only sharing the mutual sentiment between the habitants of the house when Polly moved to seek the truth, only to be cut short by his nephew who finally appeared in front of the family.

“I’m gonna need whiskey, scissors and towels.” The Shelby brother walked out and shortly came back with a different order. “No. Not whiskey, she won’t like it.” Thomas looked for his aunt and said. “Bring water. Lots of it.” By the mention of an unknown woman in the house, brothers and sister shared a train of thoughts with possible outcomes but surely went up to aid their brother. Alfie stared almost impressed by the undisturbed dance they all played while following orders and achieving perfection.

Opening the door from Thomas’ room, Polly expected the worst. A wounded animal, a lost child, a dragged bullet and teared skin, a robbed foreign girl, a mobbed call-girl or even a soon-to-be mother virgin; what Polly failed to see was the possibility of a face similar to his nephew sitting inches from Tommy himself, cover un bruises and splashes of blood. The woman almost dropped what she had on her hands.

“Dear God.”

The girl was in bad shaped, had she been escaping an assault? It looked like it. Thomas cooed over the blonde girl as the young one cried softly from the pain.

“I told you not to believe him, didn’t I?” Thomas’ scolded while cleaning her face washing away traces of kohl and lipstick.

“How could I not, Tommy?” She sounded so hopeful. “He was perfect in every way.”

A perfect scumbag, he wanted to say but instead he reproached. “I see that now.” Soon after forgot his anger as the young girl seemed to feel better. “No matter what happens, love, you promised to call me.” Tommy remind her of her last spoken words and if it weren’t for lucky tips from his boys, Tommy would probably never found out of her situation.

Polly made herself note by clearing her throat.

Finally, they realized they weren’t alone and the girl looked ashamed of her state.

“This is what you asked for, Tommy.” Polly left her supplies near the bed and having one last look to the girl she could put together the puzzle of her mind full of questions, Polly spoke without really meaning to.

“Patrick?” The young one hid behind Tommy’s form while answering Polly in whispers.

“That’s not my name. I’m Kitten.” Thomas continued cleaning the girl’s face but was shortly stopped by Polly who rushed to help the girl herself.

“Oh, darling—” Polly’s relief kindness was unexpected but so appreciated.

Polly remembered Patrick. Well, no, not Patrick. Kitten. Polly remembered Kitten, in fact, she has never stopped thinking about her, praying a God she didn’t truly believe in for the safety of her, now, niece; always wondering what had been of their lives when Thomas failed to tell her anything. She imagined if she was worried, Tommy would have thought of her thousand times more. It was his twin sister after all.

The rest of the Shelby family wouldn’t remember her. Arthur and John were soon sent to war along Tommy and even Patrick was meant to go but manage to slipped from the War’s fingers and had, what Polly thought was a peaceful life, but now seeing the black and blue marks on her skin, she doubted Kitten had an easy life at all.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt anymore?” Polly asked after they all have fallen silent in her care and Kitten nodded quietly not meeting her eyes. The woman faced Thomas instead. “Everybody is worried and they might not say but they all have questions. Nobody has seen her but it won’t be long before they come barging and demanding answers. You’ll have to make introductions.” The Shelby brother said none, taking her aunt’s words and sat next to his twin sister.

“It’s alright. They’ll meet her later.”

—2—

Later was dinner time.

Tommy had spent all afternoon cramp in his bedroom sharing the sheet with his sister, watching her sleep, talked in dreams and lazily blink once sleep left her out of its reach. Kitten told him of his life in the big city that swallowed people, told him about her friends and her adventures. The assistant of a magician and the not-so-successful career as a band show girl. Kitten had purposelessly left out her tranquil week behind bars and her resurrect petition of marriage to one of the guards that help her, Kitten supposed her brother wouldn’t be so happy about it, counting how they meeting in finding each other went few hours back.

“I even slept in a small Kingdom, Tommy, I tell you the truth.” She talked about her odd jobs of dancing and singing silly songs that made her laugh until she got fired for being in a fight. Kitten wanted to keep talking, she wanted to talk for hours, she even wanted to tell her brother on how she had found their mother, how happy and healthy the woman looked but her tummy had other ways of thinking.

“Someone is hungry.” Kitten giggled and hid her face against his chest right before Tommy made her dress up to meet the family.

“Solider up, Little Fox.” Tommy used to say to her when she was too scared to try something so she sought for his help.

Tommy stared with a marvelous feeling of awe as his sister fixed her reflection on the mirror. Her hair was soft and curly, her lashes long and dark only sparkled up her eyes in colors they shared, her rosy cheeks remind him of old forgotten happy winters of playing in the snow and warm beverages beside the windows, before the war and her lips made of fading cherries. His sister was a vision.

Kitten took his hand such as many times before and together they entered the kitchen. Polly seemed to be reading yesterday’s paper just to do something with her hands, John and Arthur were nowhere to be found and Ada was slowly eating after putting her baby to sleep. Thomas protected her sister with a silent and threatening stare letting her sit at his chair. Polly encouraged her to eat even in small bites while Ada couldn’t stop staring but wasn’t feeling brave enough yet to go over Tommy’s looks and say what she wanted.

“Tommy, can I have a glass of water, please?” The blonde girl avoided the other two and searched for her brother’s guidance. Tommy replied with a half smiled and short lived kiss on her forehead, the affection rare enough to make Ada wide up her eyes in surprise. The youngest Shelby snapped.

“Who are you?” the accusation was cleared as the morning air, however, before Tommy could order Ada to leave it, her sister answered.

“I’m Kitten, love.” Her bright hopeful eyes struck Ada off, the girl seemed so innocent, almost naïve in her trusting stance but her smiled was cheeky and lovely.

“I’m Ada.” Kitten nodded and finished her food under her brother’s watchful stare. Once again Kitten stole their hearts, still not saying how she and Tommy had met other than from meetings in London, but Ada’s suspicions were soon forgotten with each passing moment. Ada thought right before going to sleep that maybe a person like Kitten was what her brother needed in his life.

Polly couldn’t help but cry as Kitten reprised her story to the woman much as he had done with her brother hours prior. Polly cried and hugged Kitten hard enough to smothered her in short breathes; Kitten felt embarrassed when Poly took her hands and kissed them softly asking her to never leave them again or to at least check in once in a while, come to visit or simply stopping by a weekend for tea. She would do anything; Polly will do anything for her niece. Thomas refused to leave them alone, he would not leave her sister out of his sight, not even for a short while after so long and Kitten was more than happy to bask in the attention, he had missed her family but feared their reaction, not many of her past experiences had been good.

Tommy left in search for a bottle of whiskey and Kitten waited for him surrounded by nothingness when a slow motion of walking caught her attention, the girl turned around expecting to find her brother but instead found a rough looking man,

—3—

“You´re not my brother.” The girl said as Alfie walked into the room. He obviously wasn’t. Alfie had left after the commotion of the girl arriving the Shelby house, he had seen how everybody moved fast and steady to pleased Thomas on whatever was he needed at the time, later he found out, it was a young girl who has Thomas Shelby solely attention; she had to be so bloody damn important if the man was willing to see him on a different day, under a different moon that is.

“No. I’m not.” The girl stared at him with fierce curiosity that made her blink lots of time on a row. Later she remembered her manners and came closer, extending her hand to reach for him. “I’m Kitten.” The girl smiled sweetly and Alfie could admire her fully. Her long, soft and silky golden skirt, moved in waves drawing her silhouette, Alfie could see her knees after she took a seat, her hands so smooth to his touch had a spark of color in her nails and her blouse of baby pinks and frills. Kitten was an absolute beauty.

Tom was on his way back when he heard it. Alfie’s laugh. He rushed over to see what was the occasion, he had told Alfie they would continue business elsewhere but wasn’t surprise to see the man in his house, what was a surprising sight was the man laughing head tilted back, reaching out for his sister while Kitten finished her story.

“I swear to you, mister Solomon. It was an incredible show.” She smiled with fondness as the memories of touring and crowds and cheap beer filled her mind. Kitten stood as a slow song started to play on the radio. “This was my friend’s favorite.” Alfie felt a rush of overprotected need, as the girl danced alone in the middle of the half lighted kitchen telling him stories about the person who loved that song and their everlasting friendship. Alfie offered Kitten his hand and soon they both began to dance, Kitten laughing at the rough touch of his beard and he apologizing for it. “Oh, but I assure you mister Solomon. I like it.”

Tommy was about to leave. He wouldn’t trust anybody with her sister but he could trust Alfie to keep her safe for the night for a short while after he fully came for her to sleep for the night, or so he thought when he heard Kitten asked her trend mark obnoxious questions for —apparently— every man on earth.

“If I wasn’t a transvestite terrorist, would you marry me?”

Then Tommy said:

NO.

#Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomon #Patricia Kitten Braden #Breakfast on Pluto #Peaky Blinders #Kitten is a Shelby #Alfie is Smitten #Peaky Blinders Crossover #Breakfast on Pluto Crossover #Tommy is an overprotecting brother #in english #mis escritos #Arte Muerto

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artemuerto · 4 years

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Shelby Household Manor

Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader

Trigger Warning: Intent of Kidnappin, Someone gets shot, Charlis is an Angel, Tommy is still Soft.

Author Notes: The begining scene is the reason why i even started writing part two, but after i finish it, i didn't feel like ending the whole story with such a bloody end and a bad punch line, so instead i made a bonus chapther for this story that seemed to grow by its own. @sallyjacksontheweirdauthor you said, you would like to read more about the Shelby House.

Part One

Part Two

Read on AO3

Bonus

The Master

—5—

There was blood on the carpet.

There was. So. Much. Blood.

Everywhere. Everywhere he looked, he could see the vicious, sticky colour blooming around the house, the walls; there was a trail of crimson red following his steps combined with shattered glass in a path of destruction, the servant soundlessly walked, relentless, non-stopping and with only one goal in mind until he stood cold in the middle of the empty office, half seated on top of the desk while embracing a silent Charlie who refused to let him go as his tiny fists had an iron grip on his clothes.

He has never seen hell but after a night like the one they just had, the young boy had an idea, a though that maybe this was what hell looked like. Aching limbs, dry throat and broken lips, torn muscles for the continue used and a rising mind with no time for a break, for fresh air and calmness. The servant boy had only one goal in mind and with all his might he would achieved it.

The boy was able to hear the voices approaching. Loud and clear they came as the doors opened up letting through a couple of people he didn’t know, although, by the likes of it seemed as the newcomers were part of the Peaky Blinders, if he had to judge their appearances.

A double pair of eyes set on the shivering boy and started to scream at him once they recognized the quiet shape of Charlie resting in his arms.

“We found him!” One of the boys shouted at whoever was standing by the hall. However, no sense of security it came from the view, he didn’t recognize any of the faces coming toward him. “Boy—” it was cleared by now that those men didn’t knew him either and so did not trust him with having Charlie in his grasp. “You betta give me the child.” Their words were thick with hatred that the boy was not used to hear, no less in his place of work such as the Shelby Household Manor where he got accustomed to listen to Charlie’s laugh at any time of the day.

The boy was about to move when a still frighten Charlie hugged him harder and so in his need to comfort the child, the servant retracted shielding the youngest Shelby from the strangers.

“Listen ‘ere you motherfuck’r…” the Peaky boys started to close onto the servant, trapping him into the desk and by doing so sending Charlie into a frenzy of whips that sent shivers down their spines. The mere thought of their boss finding his son crying was absolute not pleasing even when the man was no way around. “Give me the child.” The tread was made and gun soon followed.

Something broke within him. Who could aim to a baby?

The servant hugged Charlie hiding the child’s face to his neck and yelled.

“Stay away from me!” The adrenaline flooding through his body was burning and busting, his sense of fight or flight was back even when his brain told him it was safe to stay with the Peaky Blinders. They were looking for Charlie after all, they would bring Charlie to his father, the servant knew that, the servant wanted to believe that; but it was, in fact, that belief that led them all to that faithful night of horrors. Someone had passed off as a Peaky boy and tried to Charlie away while his father was gone.

So, no. The young boy could not trust those man. He would not trust those man. He would fight with nails and teeth to protect Charlie until mister Shelby came for the boy.

“LISTEN YOU LIL BITCH—” The obvious threat was forgotten as the servant shot the gun he had in his trembling hand at the unknown gang member. The noise itself was enough to stir something dark and scary. He failed, the young boy was by no means good with guns, he didn’t even have a good aim when playing ball with Charles, but his message was known. If any of them came close to Charlie, they would get a bullet. The Peaky boys were not expecting such a harsh reaction, it was only a scrawny boy, bit tall for his age, with marks and bruises all over his face and disheveled clothes. What harm could the lonely boy do?

Now, they knew.

Nobody moved and Charlie had time to calm down when Arthur came in bursting into the door, his voice loud and clear with orders.

“What the fuck in going on here?” He had heard the gunshot and ran as fast as he could, fearing the worst, when a sheer of light crossed his features. Arthur recognized the darken face that was staring at him in fear and horror. Arthur knew that boy, he knew this servant.

Arthur said his name with a sweet gentleness unknown to others and ordered for the rest of the boys to lower their guns in a silent gesture.

“C’mon now, boy. You know me.” The servant was still tilting the gun at the newcomers before realizing who was talking to him. It was one of the Shelby brothers. It was one of his master’s brothers, the servant knew he could trust this man with his life such as Mister Shelby did.

“Arthur, sir.” The hint of formality even after such a hectic night and moments made Arthur laugh against his best judgement.

“Yes, boy. It’s me.” Arthur smiled looking at the servant boy while relaxing his shoulders. “Good ol’ Arthur.” The young one wanted to smile in return when Charlie turned in his arms and called for his father.

“Sir—” His frighten demeanor and worry was obvious even for the usual clueless Arthur. “Mister Shelby…” The boy didn’t need to finish his request when the oldest Shelby let him know that Tommy was on his way.

It’s alright, Charlie. It’s alright, baby. You’re ok now. You’re all good. He had said to the crying boy as he ran for their lives escaping whoever was after them. The young servant was out doing his usual runs around the manor, locking doors and checking windows when he found an open window thanks to the waving curtains that moved by the tune of the summer wind. Closing it, double checking and turning off the lights, he left and while he was about to go upstairs, he spotted an obscure figure holding a struggling Charlie. Charlie was meant to be put to sleep long hours ago, and Anna had bed him good night respectfully, so that raised a bunch of questions, starting with: Where was Anna?

Anna rested lifeless by a man’s feet.

He had run to Charlie with unknown force to himself, pure panic flood through him while imagining the worst, Charlie called for him and he knew then he wouldn’t trust that man.

Now, still standing in Mr. Shelby’s office with a nervous Arthur trying to calm him down and putting the rest of the boys to a hold while waiting for Tom.

“Tommy’s coming, Charlie.” Arthur reassured his nephew and he could see how the boy calmed after hearing about his father. Soon, shouts were heard. The distinguished voice of one and only Thomas Shelby was hard to miss, the man cried for his baby boy bearing his gun at anyone who dare to cross path with him.

“You hear that, Charlie?” The young one spoke with a tired, raspy voice catching the baby’s attention. “That’s daddy. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

The have both hid in one of the rooms. The servant fought the intruder with a fearless conviction, his need to save the youngest of the family was deep in his bones surpassing his non-existent skills or his lack of knowledge. With angry fists and sharp nails, he hit the man and scratch his face, kicked him between the legs just how mister Shelby had taught him once as he begged for Charlie to go, to hide away but the stubborn boy stood close by crying for him until the kidnapper seemed unconscious enough so they could leave together.

Charlie had whimpered against his clothes and when he went to hug the boy, he realized he was covered in blood. Not his blood, but still. Anna’s blood. The man had shot her after she had tried to elude him and by doing so saving Charlie from getting hurt, dropping him to the floor. The servant took his vest off staying in his shirt only and cleaned Charlie’s face from all trail of heaviness.

“I want daddy.” Charlie had said to him before they tried and looked for a way out. The servant could hear voices looking for them, it seemed someone had planned to attack the house while the head of the family was out doing business for the night. Tommy had left with a short smile and a warm touch Charlie still remembered, his father had promised to spent time with him on the weekend after a long week of work and he was looking forward to it. Charlie had been practicing his violin lessons by playing in front of the servants and other people in the house.

They all compliment him and Charlie only hoped his father would also like it. He had practiced hard all week until the tip of his fingers hurt.

The boy looked at the Shelby child and promised him, they would see his father. He would do everything in his power and would not stop until Charlie was with his father again.

“Don’t worry, Charlie. Daddy’s gonna come for you. Daddy will always come for you.” Little did the boy know, Tommy would search for them both in an equal fiercely need. “You’ll see daddy soon.”

Also, the young one didn’t know how close they would be to find the head of the family.

After hiding in mister Shelby’s office, the boy took the gun he knew Thomas kept in his desk and waited. The voices were long gone as guns were fired, screams and sheers of pain were heard, and an eerie calmness took over. A stillness proper of disaster was approaching and somehow he feared the worst, but what they got were waves of another Peaky Blinders lookalike right before Arthur showed up.

Arthur kept to himself imitating a guardian dog as the young servant whispered to Charlie in anticipation to meeting his father once again, the child held the comforting body of the servant before shrugging at the sound of the door bursting one more time.

Mister Shelby was a mess, to say the least, long forgotten was his pristine suit. The jacket was lost and even when his shirt was still bottom up, it was all wrinkled, the shoulder holster was visible, the shiny straps wide in the open and while his gun was still warm in his hand, the young one couldn’t help but shield Charlie’s view to the bath of blood that was his father, even for a little. Tommy was covered in blood. Both his shoulders were splashed as well as his chest. But what shocked him was mister Shelby’s face.

Thomas’ high cheeks were covered almost completely, barely any spots were left untouched; his forehead had a big stain right in the middle with moving lines that painted him as he walked and moved, the young one didn’t even fathom to imagine how mister Shelby could have gotten blood in his ears and so his lips. His piercing steel blue eyes and his red right hand supporting his warm gun was truly a sight to behold. His expression was wild and non-centered, Thomas was loosing his mind at the thought of loosing his baby boy, the only truthful memory and gift from his long lost wife. So, of course, he had butchered every single one of the people behind that disastrous plan and sent Arthur back to the manor after a tortured man told the true and how the original idea was to take Charlie from his bed that night. Only they hadn’t count with a feisty little thing who fought for Charlie with his life.

Seeing Charlie after being lost in sorrows for so long was like a waterfall of happiness had bath him in peace. His baby boy seemed held together and in one piece, sheltered between protective arms that refuse to leave him alone even after Tom was in the room.

Thomas stood near the door, he could see and hear how the fearful boy whispered to his baby trying to calm him and easily managed to do so. Charlie trusted the boy holding him and so Tommy’s heart was set. Mister Shelby gave Arthur his gun and walked pass him reaching for his son, only to be shock by a sense of cold surprise as the servant dodge him in terror. Tommy felt denied, he felt rejected and almost screamed in need to hold his son and take it away from any harm but soon understood that his baby was in no danger as Charlie melted in the boy’s embrace.

The young one kept whispering slowly not really realizing mister Shelby was in the room, his brain was high-wired in horror, and the only reason he was still in place was because he knew Arthur was close by and the man wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Tommy cleaned his hands and half kneeled trying to relax, showing the boy he had nothing to be scared for; tilting his head to a side, Tommy called the boy by his name like so little times he had done in the past.

The ring of his name awaken him from his lethargic stupor and in his eyes was clear the surprise to be so close to his master. The servant boy straightened his back and met his master eyes with a pinch of uneasiness, as if fearing he had failed mister Shelby and so, the man would be mad in any way. Thou, he had. He had failed to keep the house safe even with the non-spoken protection of the Peaky Blinders, enemies had managed to enter the house and were almost successful in taking Charlie away from them, away from his family. He had failed Tommy and Charlie almost suffered from it. The boy was about to cry.

Tommy could see the boy’s distress even for moments he thought it was caused by something else. His house was a disaster, chaos and violence was a path he knew very well but had worked so damn hard to keep his son apart form and even the ones that lived with him at the manor. Now, he could see he had been sloppy, Tommy thought by now people would not try and threaten his family, his family name had a price, a status, a terrifying power that only fools would try to break; and there were fools who had tried, he could see it now. Having a couple of Peaky Blinders posting as guards hadn’t been enough for the night and his family had suffered the price for his lack of meticulousness, but no more. He was home now and he would make it all alright.

“Little one…” He called one more time and finally had a reaction from the boy. Tommy could see the boy trembling harder than leaves in winter and with each passing second where he detailed the younger’s appearance, he could see trails of anger, violence and hatred all over his body. His boy lacked his usual clothes and noticed Charlie was missing clothes also, his boy’s hands that still grasped onto Charlie with almost paternal feistiness were splotched with blood being washed away from past struggles. His hair was all over the place but it served a purposed to show him how much his servant had been rough out. His boy had a black eye, cuts all over his face and a nurturing bruise on one of his cheeks, blossoming marks around his neck with a split lip that had stopped bleeding a while back and it only made Tommy ached. Ached for not being there and staying to protect what mattered to him, to keep and safe from harm everything that was important to him. Tommy moved narrowly so after the boy shifted to show his body and his son.

“Mister Shelby…” His voice was low and raspy, missing every little tint of happiness Tommy learnt to love with time. Charlie jumped from his arms to his father with need and shame, the baby started crying; Charlie had been so brave, stood still in silence and seemly unfazed waited for the moment he was reunited with Tom. “They killed her, sir.” The boy mentioned Anna with hollow eyes and Thomas remembered the cold body laying by the stairs lamenting his boys had to be witness of something like that; they had to take care of her family and give a proper burrier. The younger one felt finally at ease and about to give the man a smile he was when his legs failed him after all and almost fell back.

Tommy reached out for him and the boy calmed his nerves by smiling openly with an unknown warmth. That’s it until his senses fully recovered and the realization of his actions hit him harder than a brick. He had shot one of the Peaky Blinders, he had almost killed someone and doesn’t even want to start asking what was about the man he left unconscious in the living room, but yes, he had fired a gun and there was a mark on the floor.

“Mister Shelby,” the concern was clear as air. There was a gunshot on the floor. And so much blood everywhere. “I’m sorry…” Tommy arched an eyebrow unsure of what would leave his servant’s lips. “There’s blood on the carpets.”

The head of the Shelby family laughed wholeheartedly after so long.

“Sweetheart, you just save my son. I don’t care about the bloody carpets.”

—6—

Tommy played dead. Charlie was resting in his arms as the boy refused to leave his father sight and protective embrace, so the father didn’t want to disrupt his baby’s sleep even when his own mind was thinking, planning and webbing; Charlie curled into his chest and in a mere thought Tommy held him by placing a careful hand on top of his head.

“Daddy,” Charlie still spoke in whispers and low murmurs as in fearing he would be heard and someone would finally come to get him away from home.

“Yes, love?” Tommy kissed his son’s forehead and started at him, letting him know he had his whole attention.

“Can we go?” Where? Tommy wanted to ask but with one look at his son, he knew where the boy longed to be at those moments, even after that long day and tiresome hours, even resting assure in his father’s arms, Charlie still worried for the young boy who kept him safe all this time.

The knock on his door startled him making the boy jump only remaining calm when the known figure of a sleepy Charlie was able to his eyes.

“Charlie? What are you—” his half question wasn’t answer when he saw Tommy going into his room following the steps of his son who had him by the hand. “Mister Shelby!” With a gesture Tommy let him stayed in his sit, half laying on the bed.

The servant didn’t have time to focus on the bizarre feeling that was having his boss in his room when Charlie asked if they could sleep with him that night. “You, what?” Tommy hid an amuse smirk and let Charlie asked for what he wanted that moment.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” The boy was so confused as to why the poor boy wanted to be with him at those hours, he had his father after all, why go for him? “I’m scared someone will take you away.” Charlie confessed after a while and the young servant felt his heart breaking; Charlie had lost so much already; he didn’t want for more people to leave his life.

“It’s alright, love. You can stay here.” Unknown to the servant was how mister Shelby called his son in private but it was a pleasant surprise for Tommy to discover, they both called Charlie the same to reassure him their love and affection. Charlie jumped to the bed and hid under the covers trapping the young one to the wall, only to reappear when he realized his father wasn’t there with him.

“Dad?” Now was the time for the young boy to look mortified while mister Shelby look his old impassive self, as if his own son inviting him to another’s bed was the normal thing to do.

“You go to sleep, Charlie.” Tommy sat near the bed and lighted a cigarette, flicking the light in front of his eyes. He stayed with his back to the wall watching as mister Shelby smoked slowly, dragging every breath and enjoying the peace and quiet. When Tom didn’t say anything else, the boy awkwardly went back to bed, joining Charlie between the sheets; with his head on the pillow, the three of them shared a moment in silent.

Charlie fell asleep short after, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him and the Shelby boy drifted away in dreams with sweet gurgling, holding onto the servant with a hand. The young one played with Charlie’s hair until he felt the baby stopped being worried and was left to rest.

He felt himself falling asleep with the combined scent of diluted Tabaco and the passing cologne of Tommy with the dying spark of the cigar that slowly began to be extinguished, by then, Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his servant boy’s hair.

“Sleep now, little one.” Tommy began to played with his hair imitating what he had done for Charlie hours prior. “You’re safe now, so sleep.”

“Thank you, sir.” He was so grateful for his master, for showing he cared, he appreciated all of them and every person working for him, but specially those taking care of his family. “Thank you.”

Thank you for coming back for me.

#Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Male Reader #Tommy Shelby x Male Reader #Thomas Shelby x Male Reader #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Shelby Household Manor #in english #mis escritos #Arte Muerto

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artemuerto · 4 years

Text

Shelby Household Manor

Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader

Trigger Warnings: Mention of Violence, Mention of Suicide, The Shelby Family teases Reader, Tommy is pleased and Proud of Reader

Author Notes: This wasn’t meant to happen, I was really happy with how chapter one turned out but my brain wouldn’t let me sleep until I started writing

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

Read on AO3

The Family

—3—

The mansion beamed with eager energy as people came and went up the stairs, down the corridors; there was a family gathering in the making and soon all the Shelby family would be together. It would be the first time the servants of the house will be witness of all of them together. Yes, they knew them and of course, had seen them before but never in fullness. The Shelby’s worked in teams, and pairs, in triads of relentless dedication to business and increasing power. But for one night, the fights would be forgotten, altercations left behind and confrontations moved for another day. Tonight was a night to celebrate.

It seemed like The Shelby Company was ready to go wide in America, expanding their business, opening other offices and navigating into new markets.

With a soft know on the door, the servant walked into the office. Mister Shelby sat on his chair drowning in paperwork, his never ending cigar was lighted up and resting between his fingers, but the boy felt pleased to recognize the pair of spectacles on top of the man’s nose.

Clearing his throat to make his presence known, he spoke.

“Your family will be here in half an hour, sir.” Shelby groaned in response but that was it. The young boy stood up tall and kept talking. “They are expected to have dinner, sir.” Once again mister Shelby agreed in a loose matter. “Will you be dinning with them, sir?” At last, that simple comment seemed to catch the man’s attention long enough to make him look apart from his documents.

With relentless dedication the boy fought his fears and stayed in place giving his boss a clear vision of his concerns. They had yet to convince mister Shelby to eat with Charlie, left alone with his whole family. Would there it be necessary to place a plate at the head of the table? Would the Shelby’s eat without Thomas?

Thomas sighed trying to drive away the tension on his shoulders at the memory of his family in one table but decided to wash the concern from his servants heads.

Even knowing it would be a waste of time, Thomas agree. “Yes.” The boy nodded and rushed back to finish up.

The dining room was a vision, a dream or a tale of tales like princess and royalty. The candelabrums shined in sparks of life, the table beautifully dressed in a snow white tablecloth, pristine silverware and opaline glasses refracted the light in different colours. The teasing heat of the kitchen was far from the room but the excitement for a warm meal was never down. Bottles of champagne were opened and chit-chat was all over the place.

One by one the Shelby’s made an entrance.

The food was delightful and soon the bubbly sweet beverage was forgotten for something stronger. Charlie was put to bed after playing with his cousins and saying goodbye to all his uncles and aunt; the nanny followed suit with a short reverence.

The night was young when the Shelby’s decided it was time to talk business and he stood by the door; the servant wasn’t sure he was allowed to stay, it were private matters, however, before he could voice his way out, the younger sister asked for more.

“Be a darling and serve another glass, would you?” Ada shook his empty glass in the air with a friendly smile.

“Yes, Miss Shelby.” The girl couldn’t help but show his discomfort at the name and it was all clear in her features. Being called that in business was a given, but after hours, in family company she preferred to be called by her name and her name only. So, she told him much.

“You don’t have to be formal, love.” She accepted the drink and saluted to his face. “My name is enough.” The boy, first time, looked conflicted as if he wanted to pleased the lady, it was a Shelby after all, but didn’t wanted to loose respect. He was a servant, they were rules and respect was primordial.

“I apologize, Miss.” He whispered finally conscious of how the rest of the family were watching their interaction. “I cannot do that.”

“Why is that?” Ada asked promptly, not mad but mostly curious.

“Miss— I, uhm...” staggering his voice in nervousness, the boy tried to make himself clear although was failing and massively. “I am.. most unable to... can.” Ada laughed opening and without restrictions causing the boy to sober up in flying colours that painted his cheeks and nose.

“Oh, brother—“ her accent splitting over. “Where on earth did you manage to find this one?” The rest of the family laughed wholeheartedly as he rested back on his post.

So, for the rest of the night, the Shelby’s made their mission to brake the boy’s formalities. And after a few hours, they almost succeeded.

Ada, as much to please her, passed from restrictively being name ‘Miss Shelby’ to a ‘Miss Ada’ with casual ring that let her smiling but compromise enough to the boy’s stubbornness to not drop his rightful tone.

Polly, now. After threatening to mark his pretty face —once again, they laughed at his expenses while his cheekbones blushed with a deep crimson—, felt herself in a win as the boy left to be respectful enough to keep the title but informal enough to call her by her name. And so, Mrs. Polly had another drink.

The oldest Shelby was the toughest on them so far, as the man kept asking to absolute drop all those fancy words and call him by his bare name.

“C’mon, lad. I know you can do it.” Arthur told him resting a heavy slap on his back almost making him fall. That was the time where, he couldn’t help but ask for guidance. With a fleeting glance to the man at the end of the table who watch with a heavy stare, he asked permission to fulfill Arthur’s request without being disrespectful.

Mister Shelby sat impassively on his chair, the smoke slithering from his parted lips while another cigarette filled his lungs with nicotine, the man said nothing blinking slowly.

Only then, after the boy sweat under his family’s interested eyes, Thomas lifted an eyebrow as if challenging the boy to do as he pleased.

Challenging to do what? To give in to his brother’s demands? To remain silent and being the target of their banter? To keep his formalities and hang in danger with the possibility of angering any of the family members? What was the right answer?

“Oi, Tommy!” Arthur called for his brother. “Don’t be a piss and let the poor boy speak.” The poor boy hid his eyes in shame, he never intended to insult his master. “C’mon, boy.” Arthur asked once again.

“Yes...” He consciously swallowed feeling his lips dry. “Yes, Arthur—“ the family around them cheered happily finally reaching their goal. “—, sir.” Ada huffed and crossed his arms in a mock tantrum.

“And just for that you’ll get me a new glass.” Yes, Miss Ada. The boy nodded openly smiling and rushed to change the woman’s glass that was half empty. Thomas toasted in silence lifting his glass to his sister and hid a short lived smiled that wanted to appear at the corners of his lips.

—4—

Miss Ada asked for tea after everybody went to sleep so he complaint. Gingerly placing the cup and the kettle, he was about to leave when the girl called his name.

“Yes, Miss Ada?”

“Would you stay with me for a moment?” Giving a wordless positive answer, the young one came close to the woman and stood with his hands behind his back. “Oh, boy! “Ada almost dropped his cup. “Would you sit down already!” Flustered acceptance of his permission to sit with the girl, the servant spoke a soft apology, he was not used to being treated with such familiarity. He had been working in the manor for years now and even thou everybody was polite and nice and friendly with each other, there were certain things that were never meant to happen such as sitting with their masters.

“But I’m not your master.” Ada left his concerns to be blown away as she wanted a simple and honest conversation that didn’t involved her brothers, her family or their business.

“Alright, miss.” He stated in confidence. “What would you like to talk about?” That’s how Ada learned about his family, about his childhood and the town he used to live.

The boy’s father was sent away to the Great War and for years they didn’t know any good news, all their neighbors became widows and orphans and those long sleepless night took a life from his mother.

By the time his father came back, they were all ecstatic until they realized the man had come back from war but the war hadn’t let him go.

His father may have come back but in reality he never came back. So one day, after a younger version of himself was sent to school, his father had gone out, walked to their garden and shot himself with his gun for his poor mother to find him in a pool of blood with a disfigured face.

His mother’s life was short lived after that. She couldn’t bare the thought of existing without his beloved and soon her health decayed. She died shortly of a broken heart no matter how much he cared for her. That’s why he left his home town, said goodbye to his parents and sailed for adventure knowing that they were together and happy once more; he hadn’t given religion much thought but he liked to think his parents watched over him.

He finished his story with a wobbly smiled before panic painted in his face due to Ada’s tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh, no! Miss Ada, please.” He fussed over her scared and terrified. “Please, don’t cry! I’ll do anything, just please!”

“You, silly boy.” Ada cleaned her face and tucked the boy into an awkward hug by the time he stayed half kneeling in front of her. “You suffered so much and you’re still worrying over me.”

“But, Miss—“

“Hush now, just let me.” Uncomfortable and odd feeling the servant stayed in his master sister’s arms receiving comfort like no other in such a long time. He sent silent prayers of gratitude.

Neither paying attention of the shadowy figure at the door threshold.

After guiding Ada to his room and promising to her that he was in fact living a good life under her treacherous, devilish tyranny of brother, the woman left to sleep.

The servant finally felt how truly exhausted he was, long hours of working flying away in awe, music, conversation and laughter. He only wanted to go to his room and pass out for a few hours before it was time to get on his feet once again. And so close to his goal he was until he was intercepted by Polly.

Mrs. Polly was dressed down, forgotten the beautiful outfits were to be lived in a casual sleepwear, a long satin undergarment in a pale green with details in black, her face clean of make up shine by the moonlight. She was a dream.

The woman sultry walked until she faced him and smiled luxuriously with all the power she had.

“I’m surprised to see you up, boy.” There was something in her tone that left him uncomfortable, effaced was the easy mocking tone from the evening, now Polly seemed to denigrate him with even her looks.

The woman has seen and witness the silent conversation this unknown boy had had with her nephew and only served to race her alarms after catching the pleased and satisfied air Thomas portrayed the rest of the evening. Her nephew usually had two thoughts in mind: business and mindless fucking, and even the later was used as a way to achieved what he wanted, so the woman questioned herself, and an answer she would get.

It wasn’t difficult to trap the boy into her body and one of the tables at the living room, the open space was perfect, anybody could see.

“Missus—“ The low tone reached Polly with tint of desperation, it was clear to the woman that the poor boy would fly away the moment he could, but she wasn’t letting him go until her doubts were settle. Polly smiled long and languid, caressed the servant’s scared face with her fingertips until she reached for his clothesline in top of his belt.

The servant was mortified, he could reassured he was shaking like leaves in autumn while mrs Polly had her fun; he didn’t understand what the woman was after but he honestly prayed she would stop.

“Tonight, boy...” Polly came close enough for the servant to feel her warm breath. “You will serve me.” A switch was off on his brain, did missus Polly needed something outside of the obvious attempts which he in oblivious tried to surpass.

“Mrs. Polly, if you need anything I’ll try my best to serve you.” The woman frowned not quiet pleased with the servant’s reaction; if she was in the rights then the boy wouldn’t survive working for her nephew. A pretty boy to keep his bed warm wouldn’t go far in the world, even thou, there were rare cases, such as Lizzie.

“Oh, darling...” her voice crawling down the boy’s spine send chills not quiet pleasant. “There’s much you can do.” Polly went for the boy’s trousers and the young one yelped looking to escape her advances. “You will serve me well in the sheets.” Polly could almost laugh at the boy expenses, his reactions were too pure and innocent-like to not to play with, it would be both a delight and shame if he surrendered.

“Mrs. Shelby—“ the younger one angry whispered as his voice when a pitch high, in a bold flustered move, the servant touch Polly’s wrists and smoothed his way out. “I apologize for my actions ma’am but this is something I cannot do.” The boy seemed afraid while he gather himself in a thought hug and for moments Polly felt bad for deceiving the young one. “If that is something you need, I’ll search for someone but that is some I won’t do.” The boy gather up his courage and stared down at the woman with fierce determination that made her feel proud —now she understood her nephew—. “Mrs. Shelby, I am not a whore.” The secret hatred with which the boy talked to her flailed some thoughts. But she still pushed him farther.

“You might not be, darling. But under the Peaky Blinders, if that’s what they want, that’s what you’ll be.”

“I do not serve the Peaky Blinders, ma’am.” Finally seeing a way out, the servant rushed down the hall, almost running as he thought was far enough from the woman and hid in the first door he came close. Polly saw him leave with a satisfied feeling.

The poor boy felt like crying. None in his years of service he had been put into such position. He worked hard, he served well, kept his eyes close and ears shut when business were to be discuss; he tried his best to meet mister Shelby’s necessities but never he imagine he would be ask for something in that capacity.

His hands started to tremble as the embarrassment and shame began to grow in his belly. His heart raced in his chest, loud and clear to his ears and his mind was all over the place.

Had he done something wrong? Had the family gather that impression from him? Did everybody share the same thoughts of Mrs. Shelby? Did Mister Shelby had the same thoughts? Had he embarrassed his master in front of his family? He wanted to cry in all honesty, silliness and need for comfort. He began to talk to himself out loud trying to wash away the anger and mortification, the pain and shame the whole ordeal had caused him.

The boy leaned onto the door feeling the cold touch in his forehead and started to speak.

“You are not that. You are not what they said you were. You are a good servant. You do good. You are not a whore. No matter what they say, you are not a whore.” You’re not. You’re not. You’re not a whore. Memories of past pain came to life. A friend of his had suffered from the same sorrow as the people from town started to repel her for bringing a child to this world outside of a healthy marriage. She was known as the Old Town Whore.

She left one day with her daughter and he never saw her again.

“You’re not a whore.”

“Who says you’re a whore?” The ring of mr. Shelby’s voice at the other side of the room was an unpleasant and absolute unexpected plus terrifying; in his hurry and shame he had not seen where he was heading. The servant turned surprised as if being caught doing something ilegal. Jumping out in his spot, the boy looked at his master with every inch of shame while questioning if anyone in that bloody family ever slept at regular hours. Finding each member of the Shelby’s family at late hours was not good for his nerves. “And well?” Mr. Shelby was know for his short temper regardless to patience making it obvious in his features.

The impression was such, they boy thought he would pass out in pure panic, his master could read him like an open book. Mister Shelby sat in silence waiting for his young servant to speak while they boy seemed troubled with each passing second. The young one was about to cry if his eyes weren’t tricking him, and Thomas didn’t relish on that sight at all. Who had caused the boy deep discomfort?

“Tell me, little one, what’s wrong?” As if being relief from his sorrows, the boy talked and talked non-stop by his thoughts of the evening, how he worked hard and hoped his family hadn’t taken a wrong impression of his persona. He wanted to believe he was good but after being cornered in the looming, deserted halls, the boy feared the worst.

“I swear, mr. Shelby— I didn’t mean to... I only tried to do my job." The boy started to heave. “Sir, I swear, I would never... I never intended to... I’m not—“ finally a lonely tear fell down his cheek. “Sir, please, believe me, I’m not— I’m not that.” In his own innocence, Shelby noted, the boy wasn’t even able to call himself a whore.

The servant in his share discomfort hadn’t realized mister Shelby was close. Long forgotten was his seat at his desk in the center of the room and slowly, soundlessly started to reach out to him. The boy was only conscious after feeling Thomas’ flexed index finger brushing against his wet cheek and watching how the man cleaned the salt away with his lips.

“Tell me. What did they say?” The order was clear. Thomas already had a fair idea onto who could be the perpetrator but he wanted to hear from his servant first.

“I had to serve in someone’s sheet... by order of the Peaky Blinders.” The little one’s lower lip trembled in humiliation, his cheeks fired up like a beacon in the midnight sky. Thomas was glad the boy had sheltered his gaze back down so he wouldn’t see the amused smirk his master was sporting at the time.

“And what did you say to that?” The boy stilled himself for a short while and Thomas inquired if they had finally broke the poor mind, when his boy impressed him once again with a share of honest devotion.

Meeting his master’s piercing eyes, feeling his own knees shake through the force he was using to keep it together, he spoke with conviction that characterized him.

“I do not serve the Peaky Blinders, sir.” The young one took a sharp breath before continuing his short speech. “I am a servant of the Shelby Household Manor and so, I serve the Shelby’s family, I am at service to you, sir. I serve the head of the family, Thomas Shelby.” In the heated spur of the moment he forgot to mind his words, the young one has never said his master’s voice out loud nor even in confidence, and some how that idea filled Thomas with warm delighted joy. It felt good to see his servants passion.

The shared a quiet moment, seconds before the young one came to notice what he had done. An undignified feeling washed over the servant and lower his head hiding his gaze from the man; it was obvious his guilt to the man.

“Look at me.” The mister said in a low tone an slight distortion of his strong will and demanding stance. The boy refused by shaking his head and Tommy wanted nothing but to hit him light at the back of the head. “I said... Look at me, little one.” Finding Thomas clear eyes was a shock like no other; it wasn’t new to see his master but it felt like it he was under a different light. Something closer, warmer.

“It’s alright.” Thomas peaked a ghost smile so the boy could see. “You did good, little one.” Brushing his cheek one more time, Tommy lightly touch the boy’s chin and soon the heavy atmosphere fade away. Repeating his reassuring words, Tommy let the boy go.

“You did good.”

#Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby x Male Reader #Tommy Shelby x Male Reader #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby/Male Reader #Thomas Shelby/Male Reader #Peaky Blinders #Cillian Murphy #Shelby Household Manor #mis escritos #in english #arte muerto #Male Reader #Reader

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