cilleatandserve

[cilleatandserve]

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Thomas Shelby

Skin tight

Thomas Shelby x friends daughter (reader)

War of the hearts

Thomas Shelby x time travelling friend (reader)

[cilleatandserve]

ᴡᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ

-Series Masterlist

Summary: After an unexpected death, Liana turns back time using an old relic, finding the right timeline after failed attempts to prevent the death. Liana is forced to juggle between present time and her teenager life. How will she do so when she gets tangled in the webs of her choices?

Warnings: Smut, Sexual Assault, Angst, Family issues, War, fluff, Violence, stalking, depression/trauma, murder/attempted, time travel

Part 1

The door was shut on her, Once again. But for the first time in her life, a new door had opened.

Part 2

Liana’s circumstances have changed. She starts rewriting her past.

Part 3

Main Masterlist

[cilleatandserve]

ꜱᴋɪɴ ᴛɪɢʜᴛ

Masterlist

Summary: Isabel’s gotten tangled into a web made by the very person she swore she hated. Her father’s friend.

Warnings: age gap, oral sex (m + f receiving), p in v unprotected, degradation.

A/N: first smut. Not proof read, sorry for mistakes (taking advice)

Fear served a purpose, even if you never cared to listen.

It worked in wondrous ways and made your dad psychotic after the death of your mother. He became a power-hungry man, one he would’ve cursed before. Normally, death brought people closer. You just tolerated each other, that was until he got closer to the devil. Thomas Shelby. Surprisingly, no ulterior motive.

You’re awakened by the sound of your door opening, accompanied by your dad’s requests, getting louder as a response to your absence in thereof. You take in a few words at a time. Vacation. Babysit. Shelby. You immediately sit up and start piecing it together. “Esa perra!” You shout as you bite your lower lip and furrow your brows. You only speak Spanish when you’re agitated, self-explanatory. Not too long goes by before you’re unleashing that anger out at your dad, getting ignored as he drags his suitcase out the door, saying a few words before leaving, “Don’t be a brat, Isa”. You huffed and puffed, yet he didn't come back. You thought about what he said for a second, you normally didn't. Brat. You wondered why you act like this. Maybe your mother’s death fucked you up. You just always feel like something's missing. You crave to be tamed, not by your father or any stuck-up prick. You just didn't imagine it being by your father's friend. 

The club was your escape, not in an alcoholic way. But you feel like you have the upper hand when you’re there. Which is quite frequently, and for Shelby to rock up and claim it, sets you off. Your rivalry with him began ever since you met for the first time, You normally don’t get introduced to people because of your manner, unless they’re important. And most people don't have the balls to look you in the eye. But this asshole looked down at you like I was some little girl. Although It didn’t stop there, you’ve now made it your mission to make his knees weak every time he faces you.

You wear your best flapper girl dress and walk to the club, your red rouge still wet on your lips. You open the doors and strut in, captivating everyone's eyes. Everyone but one. You walk over with a fake smile, your heels clicking, which quickly caught his eye. He’s quick to greet you, a greeting that irritated you to your core. “They let children in now?” You scoff, your eye twitching, as you push the cup he was about to sip from down. “I think you forgot whose club this is.” He looked around, causing everyone to sheepishly mind their own business. Just as he was about to bite back, you waved your fingers and walked off, yourr arms interlinked with another fellow's. He clenched his jaw and slammed his cup down. 

Not even a few hours later, Thomas was balls deep into another woman. Trying to wash away the wicked thoughts. He just couldnt, not when Isabel fucking Ruiz and the daydreams of yourr pretty red lips around the tip of his cock entered his head. When the thoughts of your curves wrapped in dark red haunted his every waking moment. It felt like cheating, even though he had never had you in the first place. He was obsessed with you, and he hated it. 

The next morning, he rushed to the family house, knocking on the door. You opened the door, like you had been awake for hours at this early time. Your hair was combed, and you were stood in a satin night slip, your perky tits just visible. He looked down briefly before maintaining eye contact, relieved at the absence of anyone else in your house. “May I come in, Ms. Ruiz?” He says, his eyes undressing you. You move to the side, hinting at him to walk in, which he does. After a brief silence of staring at each other, you speak up. “And you’re here, why?” You tilt your head, your disdain evident in your tone. 

“Be quiet. I wanted to end this childish feud. Between us.” He says, his response making you roll your eyes. “End it how?” you question as you watch him step forward, backing you up into the cabinet. He pulls you into a kiss, his arms tightening against your shoulders and his hands resting on the table behind you. Your hands found the back of his neck, where you closed the gap fully, watching his head slowly bop down to your jawline before pulling away, breathless. You pout softly, a new side of you being shown. 

“What?” He said, acting oblivious, with no response, he continued, “What do you want? Darling. Tell me. ” You closed your eyes briefly before responding, “Fuck me. Please,” He grinned before replying loudly, “Are you sure you want that, sweetheart? Could be a mistake. After all, I dont normally fuck childish brats.” You seethed, your head burning from embarrassment, but your emotions fuming. He could make you out to be an innocent child, sure. But you knew your limit. “Are you sure about that? It sure looks like you’re wanting to fuck one” You spit, though smirked.

He immediately picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. He carries you up the stairs into your bedroom. He places you, well, rather drops you, onto the bed and kisses your neck, teasing your buds through your night slip. He takes the dress off of you and bends to his knees, ravishing the sight of you before licking your wet heat through the cloth. He towers over you and takes one breast into his mouth, his tongue circling around the nipple as he hollows his cheeks, his fingers playing with the other one. He switches and playfully bites it, watching you squirm in discomfort. He ducks down and moves your panties to the sides and immediately starts stimulating your bud with his fingers before inserting a finger into your hole. “Tell me what i want to hear, little girl” he rubbed at your clit faster, forcing your legs to spread. He wasn't going to force you to spell it out for him this time. He wasn't going to yell it at you. He was simply going to make you brainless. He rubs you as his digits curl, hitting your good spot repeatedly and making your back arch. “You taste fucking amazing.” He gives you one last lick and smiles against your folds, looking up at you and watching you unfold. “Fuck” you panted. “I'm coming. Please. Don't stop,” 

He chuckled deeply, slowing down. “I'll do whatever I want. You seem to forget who is in charge a lot.”

“Why do you hate me?” you whined, bucking your hips back into him again. “Hate you? Oh, baby girl. Why can't you see it? Im fucking obsessed with you.” He takes his fingers away and licks them, his fingers disappearing in his mouth as his tongue laps against them, tasting you. He unbuckles his belt and lays down on the bed beside you, his cock springing free and landing infront of you. He positions your face infront of him, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip before making you stick your tongue out, letting your tongue suck his thumb. “Suck.” He says, referring to his dick, not needing to say another word. You spit in your hand and start rubbing his cock before licking the tip, eliciting soft groans from him. You take your hand away and start to deep throat him, his hand at the back of your head supporting you before he pushes it down further, closing his eyes and resting his head back at the sound of your gags and moans. His hand tightens against the ball of your hair in his grip. He looks back at you, how you look at him through your long dark eyelashes. He lets you go abruptly. “Why did you stop?” You asked, gasping for air. Your chest was practically heaving. He squinted at you, panting. “For oxygen?” He replies.

“Shut up.” You slapped his chest. “You didn’t finish?” You asked again, moving your hand back to his cock, still slick with your spit. He groaned lightly as you wrapped your fist around him, though both of you frowned once he removed your hand from his length. A deflated sense of rejection started to fill you. You thought he wanted this. “The first time I cum with you. I am going to be inside of you. End of discussion.” With that, he flips you over onto your back and spreads your legs with one push of his knees . He rubs his cock before thrusting it into your hole, immediately wrapping around him nicely. He starts to move almost right away, lifting your leg and putting it on his shoulder for a better angle. “Fuck you’re so fucking tight.” His hand snakes up your body to find your throat, immediately grasping it and applying pressure as he hears your pleas get louder. Finally he unleashes his load into you, pulling out and watching it seep onto your bed. “Come on darl. Don’t tell me your exhausted from such a quick fuck?” He laughs. He then turns you around into your stomach, giving you no time to recover. He enters swiftly and moves slower this time, your face suffocated by the blanket that you grabbed like your life was on the line. One hand was pushing your head down into the bed, and the other found its way to your ass cheek, slapping it harshly, making you yelp in satisfaction, joined with the stinging. He then bent down and kissed your back, trailing it down to your back, before spanking you again when he rose. “Come for me. Come on my fat cock.” After having fun with your now reddened cheeks, he leans down once again and leads his hand to your clit, rubbing the right wet spot until your legs start buckling without his support. “No whores pussy is as tight as yours. God. Why didn’t we do this earlier.” He cums inside you once again and you both reach your climax, leaving you shaking under his tall frame. He pulls out and lays next to you. His arm draped over your waist.

You wake up in the morning, evidently having slept in with a guest, guessing from the blanket clinging to the sweaty skin and the weight beside you. You move slightly and feel him waking up, you groan in frustration from not being able to flee quickly enough. He yawns softly as his hips move forward, causing him to deliberately rub his cock against your folds, becoming wet through muscle memory.

He presses his lips to your shoulder and smiles, grabbing your hips with cold hands and repositioning himself before thrusting inside of you, lifting your legs to the side with the other hand as he picked up the pace, your skin slapping drowning your ears as you bit your lip to suppress the moans for ego. He wraps his arm around you and starts rubbing your clit before whispering into your ear, “let me hear you.” You immediately fold and let your moans out, your toes curling at his work. You orgasm, your back arching into his shoulder as your eyes roll back. He cums inside you, his head buried into the crook of your neck as he keeps rubbing you to the point of overstimulation. He removes his hand with a smile, before getting out of bed, leaving you yet again a shaking wet mess.

What have you gotten into this time.

[cilleatandserve]

ᴡᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ

Part 2

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Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Liana attempts to save Tommy, until she realizes how deep the scars are, forcing her to acclimatize to her new but familiar environment.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Liana (OC)

Word count: 2K+

Warnings: Cold shoulder, suicide, time travel, borderline depression/trauma, abusive parents, kissing

A/N: thank u for all the supporttt.Next chapter will be more juicy trust

“Death is the only certainty- and it defines your entire existence. Every action, every plan, is made under the shadow of death. You live in constant denial of it, but it drives everything”

She sits between John and Arthur, deep in her thoughts, her brows furrowed, like always when she’s concentrated. 3 months was all she had. 3 months to get into that complex wired brain of Tommy’s and exterminate the disease infecting him.

Tommy kept his eyes on her, no matter what. When Finn started to throw up, everyone started packing up to go home. She knew this was her chance. While everyone headed to the door, she tugged on Tommy’s shirt, maintaining eye contact before speaking. “Could we talk?”, he nodded, taking out a cigarette as they find our way to a booth.

She fiddled with the watch in her pocket. Why was she getting nervous?!. “I got something for you.” She handed it to him, her hand lingering on his for a moment too long. She pulls her hand back sheepishly. “You said yours was broken so..”. In return for the gift, she gets the ghost of a smile. “Thank you Lia.” He says, his calloused fingers brushing over the glass. They both look to the door, where Ada stands patting Finns back. She gets up after Tommy does. And the walls are back up again.

Before Liana can say anything, “Cmon. Let’s go now”, showing a smile as she lets Ada take her to the Shelby house with few protests. After a ton of shots, Ada and Liana eventually pass out on the couch. Liana wakes up, surprisingly sober. She looks around to find only the light from the street, when suddenly she hears footsteps. She immediately gets up, “Tom?” He grunts in response and pours himself a cup of whiskey, sitting down and spreading his legs.

She walks forward until she’s in between his legs, wanting to see his face. “Nightmares?” She receives no response, she didn’t know it had been starting again. She lifts her hand to caress his cheek, the other on his shoulder. He pulls her effortlessly into his arms, his cheek resting on her stomach, their breathing in sync. And just as quickly as he came, he got up and left.

That night had never been spoken of again. In fact, he had only distanced himself more. But she wouldn’t take that. The exact reason why she ended up at his office at midnight, knocking on his door. He opened it and sighed at the reveal, she invited herself inside, closing the door behind her. They stood in silence before she calmly said, “You didn’t tell me your nightmares started.” He drank his whiskey in one gulp before responding, “didn’t think it was important.” She scoffed, “Ofcourse it’s important. It’s you.”

He didn’t believe her words, she didn’t know how to make him. She walked closer to him until they were almost touching chests. She wanted to hug him, still grieving his death. “Talk to me. Please Tom.” She said, her eyes watering as she rested her fists against his chests. Muttering pleas and lightly thumping his chest before he grabbed her fists, causing her to look up. “Don’t cross the line.” He said coldly, she could normally read his face, but right now she couldn’t even recognize it, a side she’d only seen once. In a moment she’d never want to relive.

She had almost given up on him after he shut the door in her face. It was inevitable, although heartbreaking. How could she give up when he had held her for hours as she cried. Time had passed quickly after Tommy cut contact. It wasn’t long before Polly had shared the news of his passing, still no cause of death. Although she had experienced grief before, the pain didn’t get any better

That same day, she went to the graveyard, her hand hovering over the watch, to which she stole from his office. It was easier than she expected, out in the open, almost collecting dust. She sat down on the wet dirt and let the cold shiver down her spine, gusts of wind coming frequently. She pulled out the watch and faced his gravestone. Was she going to face disappointment again? She knew she had to go further back in time for the root cause. She clicked the button again, closing her eyes as she went through Deja vu, tears streaming down her face unconsciously. She opened her eyes, no longer red or puffy,her cheeks dry. She looked around, immediately recognizing the atmosphere. This was too early. She looked down at her dress, her favorite when she was a teenager, shortlasted ofcourse. She was 17 again. She walked to her old house, letting her fingers scrape against the brick walls and breathing in the air. She figured it was late 1913 judging by the newspapers in the local corner stop. She quietly made it upstairs to her bedroom, blocking out her Fathers senseless words. Flooded with nostalgia as she looked around, but with it also came the tainted memories. The teddy she cried for hours into, the window she would sneak Tommy in. “Liana?”

Her head jolted, but as soon as she turned, she was in the graveyard, but without the nostalgic tint, replaced by the cold and shallow colours. She looked around and realised she was back in her current timeline. Was it a dream? She turned to her right to see Ada. Had she altered reality? Made them somehow grow closer. She always wanted a sister anyways. After being asked multiple questions about context, Ada frustratedly summarized the situation, they had went to Tommy’s grave to pay respect. Ada left her to grieve and Liana stared at the tombstone, once a boy with aspirations and emotions, now nothing but one of many names. Would she get another chance to save him?

It had been a week till she had been transported to her teenage years again, the longest one ever, having not seen the sun since, from pure shock and delusion. She hadn’t realised how much Tommy influenced her behaviour. She woke up from the birds singing softly, it had been so long since she had heard it. Feeling that familiar aura again, she sits up and turns to the mirror, surprised to see her younger self in the mirror, plumper cheeks and lips. She got out of bed, braided her hair messily and put on a casual dress before going downstairs, ignoring her father’s gaze and his unholy comments. She walked to the local library to meet with Ada, on the way bumping into someone. Looking up, she went into a catatonic state, having seen the same face in her nightmares repeatedly “Liana. You look pretty today.” She nodded slowly, “George.” Now that she was looking at him, she almost laughed on how she ridiculously drooled over him. After an awkward silence, she quickly walking past him with her head down. Hopeful that he won’t notice an absence of fangirling. What a start to the day.

She walked with a faster pace until she couldn’t see his tall figure behind her anymore. When she couldn’t, she let out a long exhale and took a corner, seeing Tommy leaning on the back of a wall, smoking. She smiled and took it out of his mouth, chucking it on the ground and stepping on it while jokingly cursing at him. Who knows, maybe that could’ve saved his life aswell.

“Liana, always a pleasure.” He smiled as she started walking and he followed behind her. “Where ya going?” He asked curiously.

“Library. I’m meeting Ada to study. You coming?” She asked smiling, taking in his scent before he patted her back after nodding and crossed the street to meet John.

Walking home happily from the library, she bought two new books to read. She opened the door, surprised at the silence before her dad grabbed her. “Where the hell have you been huh? With the Shelby’s? Fucking whore.” He spat, looking down at her. She pulled away from his grasp before running up to her room after he left to get another bottle. She rested her head on her knees and cried. The last thing she wanted to do was relive this life again.

Every day had been a repeat, she had locked herself indoors after her run in with George. She had been stuck in 1913 for a week already, would that turn into forever? Maybe she could occupy herself with more books. When she was about to go to sleep, she heard a knock on her window, a rock of some sort. She opened the window, immediately getting goosebumps from the cold. She looked out to see Tommy with Arthur. With little hesitation, she quickly but quietly went down the stairs and met them. They walked until they settled on some grass in someone’s backyard with a smuggled bottle of whiskey. Sharing sips and gazing into the sky, leaning onto a rock counting each star. Their peace was broken when a loud yell was heard, and a figure holding a gun could be seen, with fast reaction, Tommy and Liana ran in the same direction, grinning ear to ear and holding hands. They hid behind a bush far from the house, hearing the curses fade out as it started to rain lightly. Liana looked at Thomas and vice versa. Their hands still intertwined, making him blush slightly. Tom leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers with heavy breaths before she was pulled in, their lips crashing onto eachother. Her hands reaching up to his shoulders as he flipped her over on top of him as to not get her already see through white dress dirty. They paused and stared at each other, Tom taking in the beauty of Liana being straddled onto his hips, her hair wet and her dress semi- see through. Liana, hungry for more, initiates the kiss first, she held his neck as her tongue explored his, her hips involuntarily moving.

She moved his wet hair behind his ears and his hands found her waist. Perfect until their intimacy was broken by laughter. “Am I interrupting something then?” They both looked at Arthur, and she quickly got off of him, trying to muster up an excuse before he walked away, still laughing and expecting them to follow. He was never going to let that go.

She laid on her bed and revised over the events, surely she would’ve changed her reality by now. Her first kiss, was no longer that douche George, but it was Tommy. Her Tommy. She woke up in her bed, and for the first time, was relieved to still be in 1913. Although the war was being dreaded, it wouldn’t be long until. She had to make the most of it before Tom left. If he did, maybe she could convince him.

She left the house early, crossing a bakery shop and buying a small pastry Tom liked before making her way to his house. She opened the door and made her way inside to his bedroom, being trained not to wake any one in the house up. When she made it she stood at his bedside and shook him violently. He groaned as he woke up but she stood smiling and shoved the custard pastry in his mouth. He must’ve thought this was heaven. “Come on. There’s a new picture in the theatre.” With little protest, he gets up, putting on a random set of shirt and pants.

She meets him outside on his porch and he laughs as he walks down the stairs, still chewing the pastry. “Did you really have to wake up so early?” She smiles as she leads him to the theatre. Tommy saw her ‘crush’ on the other side of the street, surprised that she didn’t, she was practically drooling over him every chance she got. But he didn’t want to avert her gaze anyways, he let her blabber on about whatever she was.

He squinted from the sun until they reached the shade of the theatres. After two hours of a yawn fest, She walked out disappointed, whereas he just stared at her the whole time. They walked to his house before dark, “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Tommy asked innocently, standing on his porch. She considered the question before declining, knowing the consequences of being late. “Curfew. Sorry” He nodded and he turned to walk away. She hated to see him go, He was the only good part of this timeline. “Oh also-”, broke her out of her thoughts as she looked up.

“We’re taking John out for his first drink tomorrow, you should come.” She smiled and nod, still remembering the events from her original timeline. As he turned around to open the door, she reached out and tugged on his shirt, getting immense Deja vu but brushing it off. “Wait.” He turns to her and they stand facing each other in silence before his hands cup her face, pulling her in for a kiss as their heads go in different directions. She pulls away and smiles, leaving him breathless as she skips home.

Her dad was watching television when she came home, too lazy to question her and her mother didn’t care enough. She read her book before going to sleep, briefly touching her lips before going to sleep

The next evening she sat at her vanity, doing some light makeup before going to the bar they agreed to meet at. Getting in without being checked and finding the brothers sat at a booth, she finally noticed the way Tommy’s eyes sparked when she walked in, the way his back straightened. She sat down across from him and watched the drinks come and go, how John got absolutely zozzled, but also how Tommy’s eyes kept drifting to hers to see if she was laughing too.

Although her mind was occupied, She wondered how much had changed in her reality, if anything.

To be continued..

[cilleatandserve]

ᴡᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ

Next part

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: After unfortunate events, Liana finds a way to turn back time.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x (OC) Liana

Word count: 1K+

Warnings: Suicide mention, borderline fantasy, character bad at expressing emotions, series

A/N: Bit short sorry, Influenced by a show I watched + Sades song

In the bustling streets of 1920s Birmingham, a young woman named Liana moved with a grace that seemed to resist the grimy embrace of the industrial city. Her black hair was pinned back, revealing a face that was both sharp and kind, a stark contrast to the harsh lines of the world around her. Her eyes, a piercing brown, searched the bustling crowd as she walked, a sense of purpose in her stride. She had a task to complete, a gift to purchase for someone special, someone who meant the world to her without her quite realizing it.

Liana approached the jewelry store, her heels clicking loudly against the floor, the gleaming windows displaying a myriad of gleaming watches and trinkets. The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, the warm light enveloping her in a comfort that felt almost illicit amidst the chill of the evening outside. The shopkeeper looked up from his counter, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long before he gathered himself and offered a curt nod. She knew he recognized her from her many visits with Thomas, her best friend, and the man that had unknowingly loved her since they were kids.

The watch she chose was a sleek, elegant piece with a leather strap that would compliment Thomas's attire. It was a significant investment, but she knew it would mean the world to him. She had saved up for ages at her boring corner shop job. As she handed over her coin, the weight of the moment settled on her shoulders. This birthday was different; something about it felt more critical than the ones that had come before. Perhaps it was because she had noticed the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his smile, the way he held onto his whiskey glass a little too tightly.

Liana wrapped the watch in a soft cloth and tucked it into her purse, her heart fluttering with excitement. She had never given Thomas anything so personal before, and she hoped it would fill the gap between them, even though she had never spoken about it aloud. The days passed quickly as she counted down to the moment she would give him the gift.

This was her city, a place where she felt most alive amidst the chaos. She had known Thomas Shelby since childhood, a bond that grew stronger than any blood tie could offer. As she approached the Garrison pub, the low murmur of conversation grew louder. The air had the scent of tobacco and the faint aroma of ale. The door swung open, and a gust of warmth enveloped her as she stepped inside. The familiar faces of the Peaky Blinders turned towards her, their eyes scanning and assessing before returning to their drinks. Thomas looked up from the bar, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. He raised a glass in silent greeting, his expression unreadable. She couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the sight of him.

The banter between the gang members washed over her as she made her way to Thomas. His eyes never left her, a flicker of something unspoken passing between her. As she reached him, she murmured a sweet “Happy birthday Tommy.” His close proximity sending a shiver down her spine. She brushed off the feeling, attributing it to the cold outside.

Thomas had been more distant lately, and she couldn't put your finger on the reason why. It was subtle, but she felt it in the way he held eye contact a beat too long, the gentle brush of his hand against hers as he handed her her drink, and the way he'd find excuses to be near her without ever crossing that invisible line. Tonight was no different, his attentiveness a constant hum in the background.

As the night progressed, the tension grew. She found yourself drawn to the table, Thomas by her side. His hand resting on hers as his eyes scan the room with a weariness she had come to know all too well. She watched with a tentative smile, the watch a silent promise in her pocket. She took it out and gave it to him, her eyes doe. As he took the small package, his hands calloused from a life of fighting and leading, she watched his face, looking for a sign, any sign, that he understood the message she hoped was conveyed in her simple gesture.

When Thomas saw the watch, his eyes lit up in a way she hadn't seen in months. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of the timepiece, the tick of its heart, a silent metronome echoing the unspoken words between them. He looked up at her, his gaze intense, and she knew she had given him something far more precious than mere jewelry. He hugged her softly as he whispered a thank you, not fully embracing eachother but enough to provide comfort, It was a symbol of the moments they had shared, the moments that could have been, and the moments she would soon wish she could redo. Sooner than she would’ve wanted.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter and camaraderie, but Liana couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that the joy was a brittle facade threatening to crack at any moment. As she watched Thomas from across the room, staring down at his drink, she realized that she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. The realization was a knife in her heart, a sharp reminder of the walls he had always built around himself.

After his birthday, Thomas and Liana began to drift apart. Tommy had become Thomas. Liana wasn't overly concerned, as they sometimes took breaks for a month. Until three months later, the news of Thomas's death hit her like a freight train. She heard it from a whisper in the wind, a rumor that grew into a shout that echoed through the streets. She felt a void open up within her, a chasm of regret and unanswered questions. God! How stupid she felt for not noticing something was wrong. And then, in the quiet of her mourning, she received the watch she had given him. The same one she had hoped would be a bridge between them, now a haunting relic of a love that had never been spoken.

She walked to the graveyard near her house, bordering a lake. She sat on the edge and closed her eyes, listening to the waves hitting the rocks, letting tears fall down her cheek. Going to grab a tissue from her pocket, she felt something hard. When she pulls it out she furrows her brow slightly.

As she held the cold metal in her trembling hands, she noticed a button she had never seen before, hidden beneath the leather strap. Her curiosity piqued, she pressed it, feeling the slightest of clicks. In that instant, the world around her blurred, the noises of the present fading into the cacophony of the past. The smells of the city changed, the air thick with coal dust and the faint scent of lilac, the same scent that had always clung to Thomas.

Liana looked around, disoriented, and realized she was standing in the same graveyard. She ran to her house after the weird occurrence, unbothered at the fact of passerby’s. But oddly enough she receives a knock on the door, hearing Ada’s voice. Yelling. “Darl’! Are you ready?”. Confused, she opens the door and questions her, upon getting her answer she shuts her door abruptly. Convinced she’s in a dream, she pinches herself, no luck. She had travelled three months earlier, on the night she had given Tommy the watch. She put on one of her flapper dresses and met Ada to walk to the Garrison. The Garrison was alive with the same laughter and clinking glasses, but this time, Thomas's eyes didn't look so weary. This was her chance to change everything, to save him from the fate that had been written. She took a deep breath. A loud voice shook her, waking her up from her thoughts, from Arthur sitting around a table with everyone else. “Oi Love! Come join us!”

To be continued…

[cilleatandserve]

Wtf. I think this is genuinely the best thing I’ve ever read. Like I read it in one sitting. I was on the verge of tears during some point. You need a Nobel prize. Can’t wait for ur next piece of art 😫🙏

Sweet Dreams, Darling (Part Ten)

Summary: After a difficult morning of facing your biggest fears, your heartbreaking decision to find your own peace leads Tommy on a warpath, seeking vengeance against the heavy hand that had landed on you. Sean O'Connor.

Warnings: Language, mutual pining, PTSD, violence, mentions of blood, angst, assault, pregnancy, violence.

Word Count: 3K

Authors Note: When writing the first scene of this chapter, I listened to the song "This Woman's Work" by Kate Bush. This one's for you, my darlings. Whether you were able to hold on, or had to let go. You know who you are ❤️.

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Was it over already? The little light of hope left in you dimming? Trampled on, trode on, back to darkness, back to black?, your body pushed you forward, one shaky step at a time to the quiet house at the end of the sleepy street.

A beacon of brick and mortar. A cobbled path with the unsteady footsteps of each ghost that came before you, leading you to the safe haven where lost souls found themselves falling at its doorstep in their time of need.

A practical, sensible woman. Head firmly on her shoulders, with no time to wastefully dream her life away like she did in the scorching summer of 1907. To mull over what ifs. To beg her way out of her shortcomings.

And yet here you were, eyes stinging with tears, cradling your stomach with the last fleeting ounces of hope left in you. Cruel, fanciful hope.

"Please! Help!" you rattled the brassy handle of the midwife's letter box as a crowd of people came to a stop across the street. Men, women, both elderly and young, not one of them with the courage to step forward, and come to your calls for aid.

Let them look. Let them cloak what their polite indifference had no mercy for. Let them see what a desperate woman looks like. Bargaining with the world to let her keep this one thing. Just this one, little...thing.

"Please!" you pleaded, pulling your eyes away from their judgement, lowering the drawbridge to your broken heart. Unapologetically laid bare for all to see as a crippling bolt of pain hit your stomach.

Not you. This happened to other women, but not you, your mind scrambled to protect itself from the small pool of blood found that morning, the rapid decline in symptoms you once loathed.

Was it your body fooling you? Failing you? Could you no longer differentiate between pain and loss? Did you even know what it felt like? To lose a baby?

" Somebody!" you slid down the door into a heap of desperation, numb to the lashings of Sean still hot from his blazing anger.

You just needed to know. Make peace with it. Then you'd let your body release it from you. You'd move on. No more tears. No looking back. You could do that, couldn't you? You'd forget, wouldn't you?

Not you. This happened to other women, but not you. Not you.

"Move...move! Y/N!" came your raven-haired saviour, your hazel-eyed angel with clicking heels pushing through the crowd as her dress billowed behind her, swooping down to cradle you in her wings.

The only one to answer your pleas for help. To push through the silent judgement of others. Push through those wise enough to know the torment storming within you. To those whose eyes were too young, too scared to face the brutality of the life that awaited them.

The only one you wanted. The only one you needed. Polly Gray, your guardian angel.

"My god...who did this to you?" her eyes struck with horror as she pulled back her armour to see a vessel, battered and bruised. Each word, each breath, stolen by an eruption of tears.

"Oh love..." an angel's kiss wept through her lashes onto your cheek as her feather touch cupped your hand when the creaking door opened.

Your time had come. The beacon lit. A stream of warm light glittered over the cobbled walkway, welcoming you in. And yet, after all the pleas for help, after all the tears you had wept, you couldn't bring yourself to step over the threshold into uncertainty.

"Together" Polly guided you forward, ready to face your ruin with you on the wink of a heartbeat. Ready to walk the lonely path of grief by your side.

Head held high over your shoulders, you walked with trembling legs as the crowd parted, fleeing from the shame they would take back to the comfort of their own homes. The guilt of silence on their lips, they'd kiss their children goodnight with.

" I...bled. I'm...i'm bleeding" trembling hands steadied each fearful movement closer to learning the truth as you offered the quiet details you'd rehearsed on your walk of solitude into Small Health. Each symptom turned into a confession, each word a thread pulling you closer to confirmation.

"Does that mean? Have I...." you looked between the two women, wise with wisdom, wearied by truth. Each minute flicker of acknowledgment deciphered, each reassuring smile scrutinised as you tried to weave out what hadn't yet been spoken.

" Shh now, dear. Know it's not your fault" your eyes rimmed red with tears, throat thickened at the piercing ring deafening your ears as your arms fell to your side in surrender.

Not your fault. It was over, is what you heard as you let the bed swallow you whole. Let it suffocate you in linen and cotton while your mind drifted from your body, from her hand gently pushing on the swell of your stomach as you called on the memory of Tommy's final goodbye to you on platform one of Moore Street before he left for death and destruction.

For now, it was your turn. Your turn to say goodbye. To bid a final farewell to the life you had created together. The secret you had kept safely nestled in the warmth of your body for him.

Not you. This happened to other women. Not you. God please, not you...

"Your baby is strong. An ox" her words hung in the air for what felt like hours, days, as you let your grief float to the heavens to join the child you had already begun to mourn when the train that took Tommy to war came to a screeching halt.

" Y/N?" Polly softly cupped your cheek, breaking the spell of drifting grief you hadn't realised you were drowning in, when your eyes widened in disbelief as a chocked cry unraveled itself into sobs.

" Breathe, dear. And feel your child beneath you" an aged hand, wrinkled with women's woes, gently glided your fingers over your swollen belly, anchoring you back to the life you had already buried. Delicately sewing the line of motherhood back in place with care.

"See? Strong. Of Shelby blood. Of their mother’s blood" Polly cupped her hand over yours with a lineage of strength passed down for you to carry, to grow, to raise. A quiet strength you didn’t know was already in you. One that somehow found the courage to walk, trembling and brave, straight into the unknown. One you were born with.

As the door to the old woman’s house broke open, so did the shackles of grief from your ankles as winter’s dying chill kissed your cheeks, freezing the thousand tears wept in sorrow to your skin. A reminder, a pathway back to what you had nearly lost. What you had fought for.

"Come, let’s get you home" Polly hooked her arm in yours, guiding you away from the billowing tufts of cotton in the clearing skies. From the sunlight warming your skin, shedding the sadness that once shrouded it.

"Home? Watery Lane hasn't been my home for months, Polly. I won't go back. Not to Tommy. Not to Sean. Not to no one" your decision was made. Not on a whim, not without thought, but with a broken heart. By a woman tired of stitching her soul back together with a thread too thin to hold what each man in her life had left in their wake.

"He needs to know. He'll want to know" she reminded you of the life nestled inside of you. A life you shared, one Tommy would fight tooth and nail to protect. To keep their mother safe from falling through the cracks he’d failed to fill.

"And what good will it do him, Pol? He's moved on. It's time I did too" shaky emotions caught you off guard, peeling back your resolve layer by layer to show a woman begging for another way out, begging for another option that wouldn't split her heart in two as his words the night he left you alone in his bedroom lingered angrily in your mind.

That's the last thing we need.

"You don't understand, love. He came looking for yo..." Polly’s words broke off with a weary breath, exhausted of making excuses for men who should’ve known better.

Brow furrowed, lips drawn, you refused to budge on the matter, to make space for the truth of what had become of Tommy when Sean was mercilessly beating you. To know of the stretched minute where Arthur and John leaped from the car before Tommy closed his eyes on the world. To hear of the reluctant tears he'd let silently fall to his bruised cheeks with each looping stitch Polly made as she mended him back together. To know that his sorrow was not in self-pity, but for you, and the heartbreak he'd poured into your hands. For as you resisted any swaying knowledge that would have you back peddling into his arms, Polly stayed silent. Unwilling to guilt you, to burden you into answering Tommy's silent pleas for forgiveness.

"You'll break each other's hearts" her words came like a whisper, like an autumn breeze with a warm hope that winter wouldn't be too cruel to your weary body.

"Already broken" your eyes rose over the shimmer of disappointment clinging to your lashes as you turned to leave.

"It's time I forgot, Polly. It's time I found peace" your voice trembled, betraying the truth, that if he asked you to stay, just once more, you’d sacrifice your own survival for another glimpse of summer in his eyes.

Foot hovering over the bricked curb, you held a silent breath as you glanced down Watery Lane for your summer love, only to find an empty street and a paved road of unkempt promises, before you turned on your heel into the unknown.

But another woman, just as practical, just as resolute, would be damned before she let Small Heath spill an ounce more of blood in the name of love. To let two of the same heart battle once more before she lit the spark in Tommy that would see him burn the city to the ground when he learned whose heavy hand had fallen on you. On his unborn child.

The voice of reason between two warring souls. The only guardian angel Small Heath had ever known. Polly Gray.

How many minutes were in the hours that had passed? How long had he been sat there?, the clicking hands of the clock on Tommy's office wall dragged on, cruel and slow. And yet, he couldn't move. Wouldn't move. Not yet.

Could he turn back time? Turn back the months since his return? Fuck, the years?, his tongue swiped across his cracked lips, parched with thirst as his eyes flicked between the call of the whiskey bottle and the stretched hour, unaware of how many minutes he'd bled dry waiting.

How long would he punish himself until the ticking hands struck on the hour? Until he'd let himself drown in notes of wood and spice, to dull the throbbing in his head?, he winced, hand flying to his bruised rib as he leaned forward, watching the dial hover teasingly over the next minute.

Too much smoke, too much snow. Tommy had dabbled in every numbing agent known to man as his body healed, while hindering his heart from feeling the brunt of what had him walking head first, blind and broken into Seans camp.

But whiskey...sweet, bewitching whiskey. His trusty friend, his companion and comrade, had been calling his name every waking hour of the day as he turned his back on the rest. Loyal to the only vice that knew him, that understood him.

How long would the hands of time mock him? How long would he endure the torment until he'd answer to the amber liquor's lulling effects? Who would win? Tommy Shelby...or the bottle?

"Tommy!" the door flew open, making way for his aunt's marching feet, storming towards his worthy opponent sat on the desk in front of him.

" No more" she warned, jabbing her finger at him as she threw open the window, letting him win to the sound of the bottle glugging its surrender out onto the cobbled streets.

Falling back into the creases of his chair, the padded leather snapped under his tired body as Polly paced the floor in front of him, ready to set him alight with the same violence he had unknowingly shared with you.

"I just ran into, Y/N" she came to a stop with heavy breathes, even heavier thoughts as she wrestled against every instinct within her to not disclose what wasn't hers to tell.

" She well?" he cleared his throat, tossing the words out like they were a mere afterthought as he distracted himself with a loaded folder of documents missing his signature in an attempt to save face, to fool himself and his aunt's knowing eye into believing he wasn't hanging onto every detail he hoped she would relay.

" Worse off than you" Polly's shadow cast over his pitiful performance of a man detached, unwavered by the mention of your wellbeing like it hadn't been written in him to spend every second of the day tormented by the unknown.

" Happy wife, not so happy life, eh?" came the bitterness like bile in the back of his throat. The retaliation he had yet to unleash, snapping at his jaw like the blood-thirsty revenge of his brothers he'd kept under control by iron chains until the hour came.

" A beaten wife" she corrected him, words thrown out like a box of matches on the table in front of him, ready to spark the start of the wildfire storming within his eyes.

"That's right. Let that sink in" she continued to fuel the growing flames, openly handing the cutters to a man wired for detonation, for destruction.

"That's where you drove her. Straight into fists, while you were too busy fighting yourself. To a man that beat you half dead " her own fury gleamed within her vengeful eyes, leaving trails of gunpowder behind her with each word. A vengeance she knew would be dealt by her nephew's clenched fists straining against his thundering heart, rumbling its battle scream as it waited for her to say it. Waited for her to name the soul he'd rip from its earthly body with his bare hands.

" To Sean O'Connor"

And there it was. The match had been lit. The hour of reckoning had come. And as she calmly stepped back, she let the flames of it roar. Let them rage with might across the room, fueled by something more dangerous, more deadly than anything she'd ever witnessed, until she watched it collapse onto the floor among the wreckage it had made. It's name? Grief.

" Where...where is she, Polly?" the words broke from his straining lungs, from his slumped body spent of energy until they filled the room, spitting with the last of his fury.

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

" Gone" Polly stepped forward, dealing the final blow to his shattered heart with a tilted chin of disappointment, with silent anger for what he'd caused, what he'd let happen.

" No...no..." his protests were stolen between each breath as he scrambled to his feet, shaky legs and sweaty hands wading through the rubble.

With the name of the bullet now carved into every thundering step Tommy made out the door, Polly signaled for his men to follow. Not to stand arm to arm in a war only he alone could fight, but to help dig the grave of a man that had signed his own death warrant. To keep his aim true, to keep his mind sharp. The same mind that had left him to die by the side of the road and you beaten bloody and blue.

For the bottle of whiskey had been bested. And it was time for Tommy Shelby to make one last victory lap, guns blazing with his men in arms behind him, waiting with the shovels that once plagued his mind.

Could they not feel it? The devils breath whispering down the back of their necks? Closing in with each trudging step through the sweeping fields of overgrown grass as they filled the air with laughter, tossing bottle after bottle into the spitting fire.

Had the soft lull of ale blinded them? Dulled the stench of death in the air? For he was coming, calm and steady. Death was coming.

" Ay! Where the fuck you been? Y/N!" Sean caught sight of you trekking across the camp for the caravan. Each call of your name, each insult hurled your way, ignored. Unresponsive, unflinching to the sparks of fire, kissing your skin as he launched his beer into the flames after you.

" Fucking brat. One time wasn't enough for you, hm?!" he rose from his stool, gold rings catching the orange burn from the raging flames as he unbuckled his leather belt from his scuffed trousers with a metal clang.

" Needs another seeing to that one does, Sean!" his men jeered him on as O'Connor slammed the door of the trailer behind him, leaving their laughter to petter out into a deathly silence as each of them, one by one, drew their eyes up to the emerging shadow of men cutting through the horizon, dimming the dying sun a breath too soon.

" What the...devil" one of his men stiffly stood to his feet, eyes squinting through the evening haze as the earth rumbled beneath him with the marching boots of a battalion of soldiers, and those of the man still sitting on the tip of his tongue.

" Just where the fuck do you think you're going, hm?" Sean swaggered forward with a mocking scoff, finger flicking your suitcase close with a boisterous chuckle as he circled behind you.

" Fucking women" he shook his head with a teasing laugh as he fell back onto the bed with a grunt, shifting his body with arms behind his head to watch your little show or rebellion against him with amusement.

" Give 'em your hand, they'll take the whole fucking arm. Ain't that right, sweetheart?" he toyed, kicking the lid of the leather satchel shut with childish intent, as you placed each of your belongings inside in silence.

" Y/N!" his laughs tapered out, his mocking grin faded into the emerging creases of anger heating his face as you remained unmoved, unfazed by his petty game of control.

" You pack like you're fucking going somewhere" he launched up from the bed, breath hot against your face as he squared up to you like a man pumped for a street brawl, ripping the neatly folded blouse from your fingers.

" Where you going, Y/N? Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" he bellowed in your ear, face scorched with fury, bulging veins straining against his slipping control as you raised your head for him to see your winning smile staring back at him.

"Sean!" the call of his name, a fist pounding against the wooden trailer wasn’t enough to break the heat swelling in his eyes, the rage bubbling beneath his skin as you tilted your chin up against his fury with an unwavering smirk of victory. For Sean was longer up against you alone, he was up against the man who bested him ten years ago. The man whose strength, whose blood, now lived and kicked within your womb.

" You're not going fucking anywhere, you hear me?" a grin curled across his face, bearing his teeth as his shadow walked you back toward the bed with ignorance, blindness to the father whose strength brew inside of you, closing in on his camp.

Steady feet driving him forward, Tommy's reckoning crossed enemy lines as the air stilled, and the hands of the clock hovered over the soldiers minute. Long enough for his gun to rise against the chaos in the camp. Long enough to beat their scrambling hands, frantically reaching for their weapons. For his men to fall in behind him, boots dragging death closer with every step through the mud. For him to pick them off one by one, like candles snuffed by the wind. For their bodies to hit the floor like the pounding drums of a funeral march as their coffins were lowered into the earth.

"O'CONNOR!" Tommy's voice ripped through the skies, through scarred lungs and straining veins as the pad of his thumb brushed over the brass cylinder and the last bullets begging call, yearning for a resting place.

" Shut it" Seans hand flew over you muffled screams for Tommy as his head curled over his shoulder to the door with a venomous smirk.

Crushed under the weight of his body, his low chuckle of disbelief buzzed against your chest as his hand clamped over your mouth, squeezing every breath from your lungs.

" Back from the dead...." Sean scoffed as he turned to face you with darkening eyes, pitting his desires against eachother, weighing out his options like he hadn't made up his mind the moment the reaper sounded his arrival.

" Sorry, sweetheart. But you understand" his eyes slammed shut, crashing his hungered lips to yours, claiming the last of your spent resilience from you in a searing kiss of death to seal your fate.

"Now, come on. Lover boy's waiting for you" he pulled your trembling body to it's feet, twisting your arms behind your back as his name thundered through the heavens one final time.

"O'CONNOR!" Tommy's bellowing voice cracked open the clouds, finger hovering achingly over the trigger as the door to Sean's caravan swung open, for you to appear. Dress ripped from clawing hands, eyes wide and trembling, and the cold barrel of a gun pointed to your head as you stumbled down the wooden steps.

Y/N...

" Easy there" Sean dragged you in front of him, armouring himself with your life against Tommy's hour of retribution.

" No more blood has to be shed, Shelby!" Sean's brazen calls for peace went ignored as Tommy's widening eyes darted to you, hands clamming up in a panic with each treacherous gust of wind carrying your desperate sobs for help. Each whimper pulling at his heart, pulling his aim off course.

You weren't supposed to be here.

" Straight ahead, Sergeant Major" orders for him suddenly came down the line, snapping his mind back in place before it surrendered to the sight of you.

" Low winds coming in east" another muttered for Tommy to adjust his aim, to keep his shot true against the rolling clouds as your eyes darted to the hammer sat on the iron anvil a step away.

" You didn't come 'ere for me, Peaky! You came for her. Let me go and she's all yours. What be saying you, ay? Truce?" Sean pulled you in tighter, swiping his tongue over his lips as panic clawed at his throat, as his eyes rose above the bloody massacre at his feet to its enforcer.

" Steady, soldier" a graveled voice kept Tommy's hand from slipping, coiling his anger into one pristine shot ready to take its aim.

Breaths steady, feet welded to the earth, Tommy waited. Waited for the winds to stiffen in the air, for the pause between each drumming heartbeat as silence descended over no man's land, when adrenaline shot through you and you lunged for the hammer.

"Y/N!" your name ripped from Tommy's lungs, swallowing time to a standstill as he watched the hammer come down onto Sean's leg with a held breath, watched as he stumbled back with his gun raised to your stomach and a finger squeezing down on the trigger.

One fraction of time granted. One second to make it count. To end it all. Tommy's lungs released the air from his chest as the last bullet fired from the barrel of his gun straight into O'Connor's ribcage.

As the sound of a single gunfire echoed across the land, the final beat of the funeral drum fell silent. And with it, so did another soul ready to be collected as it hit the earth's grassy bed.

"Y/N!" Tommy dropped his gun, feet sprinting through the barren field to you as you fell to the ground with Sean.

" It's ok...you're ok. I've got you, Y/N. I've got you" he dropped to his knees, pulling your body up against his thundering chest as you looked over your shaky hands smeared in blood to the gurgling hum of Sean taking his last breath.

" Don't look, darling" Tommy sheilded you from deaths grizzly face, from the spluttering sound of life slipping into darkness as he turned your face away with a protective hand across your eyes, ears muffled against his body.

Cradled safely against his chest, Tommy lowered his chin to rest softly atop of your head as he watched the last flickers of life leave Seans eyes. Watched, unshaken and fearless as his old friend death came to collect the last soul from the battlefield with a promise to never return to the same war that once plagued his nightmares.

" I'm here..." he pressed a longing kiss to the crown of your head, eyes fluttering close to finally welcome peace after the bloodshed.

"I'm home"

*I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter in the comments below 💚*

[Next part] (coming soon!)

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