hazelnmae

[hazelnmae]

This is so beautiful and so heartbreaking. ❤❤ You're amazing, friend. Just amazing!

Tired (Alfie x reader/oc one shot)

Hello lovelies. Please excuse the inner depressive ramblings of my mind but I suppose I’m using this as my own form of therapy so I feel no offence if nobody wants to read it because it is rather depressing. 

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @justanothershelby​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @of-love-and-of-the-sea​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @captainsbestgal​ @lavenderhopehardy​ @geeksareunique​ @mollybegger-blog​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @emilymarie0422​ @tv-obssessions​ @advictedtohim​ @l0tsofpennies​ @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​ @97freaknik​

“I’m just tired.”

Three little words. That’s all they were. But it was the way she said them that had Alfie’s attention. He recognised that look in her eyes; the fact that they didn’t quite have their usual shine nor did they crinkle in the corners when she attempted to smile and convince him she was fine. He recognised the slight slump of her shoulders; the way they looked like they bore the weight of the world on them. And that was because to her they did.

I’m just tired was her way of saying that it was back; that black dog that wrapped its leash around her and squeezed the last remnants of joy out of her, leaving an empty sadness in its wake. The truth of course was that the black dog never left her- not really. It lurked in the periphery of her life, waiting with slobbering jaws for a moment when things were going just a little too well or when she was just a little too happy, and then it would appear with its wagging tail and a presence that was as comforting as it was painful.

I’m just tired was her way of saying she hurt and she wanted to be alone. Only the last thing she wanted was to be alone. She wanted him to see that she was desperate for him to know that she needed him, but she also wanted to push him away in the same breath.  She wanted to push him away to see if he would fight his way back towards her or would he leave her like everyone else eventually did? She wanted to push him away to keep him safe, because she didn’t want to taint him with this blackness and suffocate him in the way she was suffocating daily. But at the exact same time, she wanted to be selfish and let the dog wrap its leash around him as well so that she would never have to be alone again. Misery loves company after all.

I’m just tired was her way of saying that she wanted to die but she also wanted a life with him. Marriage, children, family memories, everything. She wanted to lie in bed and sleep so that she didn’t have to feel, but at the same time she wanted to feel everything she thought she never would ever again. She wanted to open her eyes in the morning and feel happy at the sight of the sun streaming through the curtains. She wanted to allow herself the joy of being lost in hopes and dreams of what the day might bring. But she didn’t want those things either. Not really. She couldn’t help but find solace in the feeling of despair that enveloped her when she opened her eyes and realised that she was still very much alive and forced to suffer another day dealing with her self imposed anguish.

And wasn’t that the truth? It was self-imposed, because when she wasn’t covered in that darkened fog or that hopeless despair, she craved it like a comfort blanket around her. It understood her and she understood it. They had a mutual knowing in which she would allow it to ruin her life so long as it promised to never leave her. It was a strange thing to desire and clutch tight hold of the very thing that had no intention other than to extinguish the small moments of joy in her life, but it was all she knew. Without it she didn’t feel complete. She craved that loneliness and that pain because it was safe; it was home. It was a broken home inside of herself, but it was her home nonetheless.

Alfie tried to understand; he was desperate to understand because he loved her and he couldn’t stand to see her hurt. More than anything he couldn’t stand to see her hurting herself. And he wasn’t just talking about the angry lashes that scarred her arms and legs. No, he was talking about the way in which she had convinced herself that she deserved nothing more than this because she was nobody and she was nothing.

But that’s where she was wrong. To Alfie Solomons, she was everything. She was his reason for breathing, his reason for existing. And for the rest of his days he would do the only thing he could do when she felt like this. He would wrap his giant bear arms around her and pull her close. Once upon a time, she used to cry in his embrace but now she was just numb most of the time. She would bury her face into his chest and breathe in his sandalwood and cigar smoke scent, letting it remind her that no matter how much she felt alone she wasn’t. Letting it remind her that no matter how much she wanted to be alone she wasn’t. He would never let her be alone for as long as he lived.

[hazelnmae]

This story... goodness. From start to finish, simply incredible! The ending has me in tears. You've seriously broken me and put me back together again, better than before.

Thank you so much for sharing this with us. I can't believe we all get to read your amazing work for free!!

❤❤❤

New Beginnings (Tommy Shelby x OFC Chapter Twenty)

Ok everyone, this is the final chapter of Saoirse and Tommy’s story. I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read, commented, reblogged and just been so utterly supportive. For personal reasons, this story has meant so much to me and I’m so grateful to have had such wonderful people to share it with. 

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen

Warnings: swearing, some smut, descriptions of death

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @justanothershelby​ @miidailyinspiration​

@mrsalwayswrite​ @lavenderhopehardy​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @biba3434​ @emilymarie0422​ @tv-obssessions​ @readbasoeverything​ @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​@soargumentative​ @l0tsofpennies​

Three hours. Dylan had been gone for three hours. It felt like an eternity. Tommy had sent every trusted man out to search for him, but Polly had been adamant that he remain at the house with Saoirse. She needed him; she was a mess, and despite his initial protestations, he reluctantly agreed.

“This is all my fault,” Saoirse muttered over and over again, clutching that teddy for dear life. She was terrified to let it go. It was as though letting the bear out of her hands meant that she would lose all hope of ever getting her baby back.

Tommy knelt down in front of her and took her hand, kissing it reverently.

“Nothing about this is your fault,” he promised her, clenching back his own tears, wishing to be out with the rest of the Blinders looking for Dylan. He felt useless just sat there, waiting and doing nothing. “Plenty of women leave babies outside in the pram. My mum used to leave us outside in the fresh air all the time.”

“I’m not talking about that,” she whispered as a tear fell upon their joined hands. “It’s my fault because I didn’t want him when I first found out I was pregnant. He’s punishing me; God or whoever it is up there. He’s punishing me for all those times I thought about wanting to get rid of my baby. He’s doing this to me because He knows I don’t deserve Dylan and I don’t deserve to be happy.”

“Saoirse,” Tommy shook his head. “Love, that’s not true.”

“It is,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault and I don’t know how I’m supposed to live the rest of my life without him, Tommy.”

“Ssh, don’t speak like that,” Tommy cupped her cheek, brushing away her tears with his thumb. “He’s not gone forever. We’re going to get him back and you’re going to see that none of this is your fault nor are you being punished for anything, because you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Bursting into painful sobs once again, Saoirse threw her arms around Tommy and let everything out. She couldn’t be strong. She was a crumbling mess and she just needed him to make it better. Tommy always knew how to make things better.

“It’s alright, love. It’s alright,” Tommy wrapped his arms around her and pressed gentle kisses to her head. “We’ll get him back, I promise.”

“And if we don’t?”

Tommy had no answers for that question. In fact, he refused to acknowledge it. They would get Dylan back come hell or high water.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Night fell and rain set in for the first time in weeks, clearing the last of the humid air. Tommy was restless and was making phone call after phone call to try and see if anyone had any news about his missing son. But every call ended with the same despair that left a bitter taste in his mouth.  

Saoirse hadn’t moved from the armchair, where she had been watching out of the window but not really seeing. Perhaps if she sat there long enough this nightmare would be over and Dylan would be safe and sound in her arms once again.

“Saoirse!” Arthur came bounding into the living room as fast as his legs could carry him. “You need to come quick.”

“Have you found him? Have you got him?”

“No,” he answered truthfully, guilt clouding his eyes. “I’m sorry. But listen, there’s someone on the phone for you and I really think you need to take the call.”

“I don’t want to,” she shook her head, painful disappointment seeping through her veins. “I don’t want to talk to anyone; I just want Dylan.”

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Arthur squeezed her shoulder gently. “Which is why you need to take this call.”

A feeling of dread, even greater than the one she already bore, settled upon her chest making it difficult to breathe as she headed into the den to use the phone. Tommy looked at her with such anger and she couldn’t tell if it was directed at her or someone else.

“Tommy?” she frowned.

“Just take the call,” Arthur prompted gently.

“Hello?” she said into the receiver hesitantly.

“Saoirse,” the voice spoke; the one that had haunted her dreams for months. The one that had given more agony than she ever thought was possible until now.

“Joe,” she whispered, closing her eyes in pain at having to mention his name out loud let alone speak to him.

But then she heard it. That soft whine in the background that made her full breasts begin to leak with milk that was supposed to feed her child.

“Please don’t hurt him,” she begged, tears pouring freely. “Just give him back to me.”

From her peripheral vision, she could see Polly murmuring soothingly to Tommy who looked about ready to kill someone with his bare hands. She turned away quickly because otherwise she wouldn’t be able to carry on.

“He’s fine,” Joe said almost kindly. “He’s clean and fed and warm. I’m not a complete monster, you know. You do know that, right?”

“Yes,” she muttered. She didn’t care that every fibre of being screamed liar. She would say whatever it took to keep him on the phone and make sure Dylan was safe and well.

“You can have your son back,” he said suddenly. “But you must do exactly as I say.”

“I will,” she nodded fervently, even though he couldn’t see her. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“There’s an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the city on the corner of Barham Street and Ascot Road. You will come there alone in an hour and I will give you back your son. But if you do not come alone, I will know. Trust me, I will know. I see everything, Saoirse; just like I’ve seen the happy little life you’ve been trying to live without me. If anyone else comes, your son is dead.”

The phone line cut out and Saoirse dropped the receiver in her hands.

“What did he say?” Tommy was beside her in an instant. “What did that fucker say? Where’s our fucking son.”

“He’s safe,” she croaked. “I know where he is and I can get him.”

“Right, let’s go then,” Tommy demanded.

“I have to go alone.”

“Not a fucking chance,” Tommy let out a short laugh. “There is no way in hell that I will let you go anywhere near that monster alone.”

“I have to, Tommy,” she sniffed.

“It’s not happening.”

“Tommy, please,” she pleaded.

“I said fucking no,” he roared, flinging everything angrily from the desk in front of him.

Saoirse broke down into tears and clutched onto Arthur for dear life as Tommy continued to smash up everything in his path. When his angry haze finally faded, he glanced at the destruction he had caused and felt nothing.

“I’m going, Tommy,” Saoirse cleared her throat. “And you won’t stop me.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Saoirse reached forward and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “You can’t. Listen to me, Tommy. If you or anyone else comes with me, he’ll kill Dylan. I won’t let him do that.”

“And what if he kills you?”

“That’s a risk I’m more than ready to take,” she answered.

“I’m not,” Tommy murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” she promised, wrapping her arms around him. “But I have to get our boy, Tommy.”

“I know,” he whispered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The warehouse was exactly where she had been told. Arthur and Tommy had dropped her off about a ten minute walk away, and it had taken Arthur almost forcibly restraining Tommy to stop

him from going with his wife. Arthur wasn’t happy about leaving her to face Joe alone, but he understood that this was the only way.  

The rain had become a light drizzle but Saoirse welcome the way it soaked through her clothes. It reminded her that she needed to keep her wits about her. Each step she took closer towards the warehouse felt heavier than the last until she almost couldn’t go any further. But go further she did because all she could think about was her son. She pushed open the door and was assaulted by a surprising amount of warmth and the faint light of a lantern. Her heart pounded wildly and she swallowed, unable to think of anything other than the feel of Joe’s hands around her throat and his fingers against her skin.

Dylan, she reminded herself. This was for her Dylan and she would face Joe a hundred times again if it meant getting her son back.

“So you came then.”

She turned at the sound of his voice and forced herself to meet his eyes. They weren’t angry like she had expected; instead they were soft and warm like the Joe she had first met. No. He wasn’t anything like the Joe she had first met. He was a monster and she should have expected he would try and lull her into a false sense of security with a kind smile, but it wouldn’t last.

“Where’s my son?” she asked, standing upright. She would not cower down to him again. Never again.

“He’s fine, I told you,” Joe smiled.

“I want him; give him to me,” she demanded.

“In due course,” Joe smiled that sickly sweet smile again. “Come and sit down. Let’s talk and catch up first, eh?”

“Catch up?” she scoffed. “You must be out of your mind if you think I’m going to sit here and play all happy with you. I came here for my son and you will give him to me now.”

“My my,” Joe smirked. “Sweet little Saoirse has finally grown a backbone. I wonder if you’re actually as brave as you really think you are.”

His hand reached out and wrapped itself gently around her throat, squeezing slightly as if testing her for a reaction. Defying every instinct that she had to scream and cry and beg him not to hurt her, she stood as still as a statue and let her eyes stare into his with no reaction. It seemed she had done the right thing because Joe dropped his hand and grinned.

“He’s over here,” he nodded to another room behind them.

She followed him without a second thought and when she saw a little crate stuffed with blankets, she ran to it, bursting into tears of relief when she saw those sweet little pouting lips and that button nose.

“Dylan,” she whispered, scooping him up into her arms and breathing in his comforting baby scent. “Oh my sweet boy, I’m so sorry my darling.”

“I told you he was fine,” Joe said. “I would never hurt a wean.”

“You said you would never hurt me but you did,” she hissed.

“That was… unfortunate,” he sighed. “You can’t honestly blame me for the way I behaved back then. I had my suspicions that Tommy Shelby was going to try and get his claws into you from the second you took that job and I was right, eh? He turned your head with these fancy ideas but he doesn’t love you like I do. No one could love you like I do.”

“You don’t know the meaning of love,” she spat, her bottom lip wobbling. “The things you did to me… you’re worse than a monster. You’re evil.”

“I’ll let that slide because you’re emotional about having your boy back,” Joe narrowed his eyes and she saw a tiny glimpse of his real persona in them. “But you have to understand that I didn’t want to do those things, Saoirse. I just couldn’t help it. When I saw his hands and his mouth on you, I was enraged. He was touching what belonged to me and I couldn’t have that.”

“I didn’t belong to you!” she shouted angrily. “I’m not something to be owned, I’m a person.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Saoirse,” he said sadly, lifting his hand to trace his fingers down the scar upon her face. “This means you belong to me.”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Yes, Saoirse. You belong to me and you always will.”

Saoirse closed her eyes as bile rose in her throat when her mind flashed back to that night. He was trying to get inside her head. He was trying to manipulate her just like he had done so many times during their relationship.

“He looks like his father, doesn’t he?” he said suddenly, his breath warm upon her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find him stroking Dylan’s head gently and she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tear off his hand so he could never touch her son again. But she didn’t. She just watched him like one watches a predator, trying to suss out its next move in the hopes of surviving. She would survive him. She had done it once and she would do it again.

“I think I will be able to overlook that in time.”

“What do you mean?” she eyed him warily.

“Put the baby down and we’ll talk.”

“No,” she shook her head firmly. “He stays right here with me.”

“And I’m saying that you’ll put him down and we’ll talk,” Joe’s nostrils flared ever so slightly.

“I said no,” she gritted her teeth.

Joe let out a sigh and she could see the inner turmoil he had to refrain from losing his temper. It was palpable. The palm of his hand met with her face before she could even begin to process the movement, and Joe took the opportunity to snatch Dylan from her grasp.

“I didn’t want to do that, Saoirse,” he shook his head sadly, moving back when she reached her arms out for the baby. “But hopefully now you’ll listen to me, eh?”

“Alright,” she agreed.

Her eyes didn’t leave Joe’s broad form for even a moment as he lay Dylan gently in his make shift crib, smiling fondly when the little boy pouted his lips and let out a sigh of contentment. That was the only thing about this situation that Saoirse could find a positive in. Dylan was unharmed and clearly unaffected by the ordeal, and if she had her way he would remain so. When Joe stood back up and turned to face her, she forced herself to look him in the eye.

“I’ve really missed you,” he murmured, cupping her face and running his thumb across her bottom lip. “I’ve missed everything about you, and I know you think you’re in love with Thomas fucking Shelby but you’re not. He’s brainwashed you into thinking that he’s saved you, but really he’s just imprisoned you in the same way that you accused me of doing.”

“You raped me,” she spat. “And you beat me. You sliced open my cheek with a fucking knife.”

“I’ve already explained to you why I did those things.”

“And that makes it alright? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to carry on living after what you did to me? If it wasn’t for Tommy, I would have ended my life just so I didn’t have to feel the pain you inflicted on me for the rest of my life.”

“What do you want me to say, Saoirse?” Joe huffed. “That I’m sorry and that I wish I could take it back? Because you know what? I don’t. I’m glad I did it. I’m glad that I made you hurt because I hurt. I did nothing but love you and you repaid me by kissing another man, but it’s possible for us to start again and get past this.”

“You what?” she scoffed.

“Let’s leave this shitty place and start again, far away,” he whispered excitedly, grabbing her face with both hands now; his eyes wide with excitement. “Me, you and the baby. I’ll be a good Dad to him, I promise you that. I’ll love him like my own.”

“He doesn’t need you; he’s already got a Dad who adores him,” she snarled. “And you’re truly deranged if you think I would go anywhere with you and most certainly not with my child.”

“You don’t mean that, Saoirse,” Joe closed his eyes in pain. “We can be a real family, the three of us. And if we can’t be together in this life then we will in the next.”

“What are you talking about?” Saoirse felt her stomach drop suddenly.  

“This whole place is covered in petrol,” he grinned menacingly, pulling a packet of matches out of his trouser pocket. “I was willing to give you a chance, Saoirse but you’ve ruined it for yourself and for us. I promise though that wherever we end up after this, I’ll look after the two of you.”

“Joe, please,” she sobbed, trying to wrestle the packet from him. He snatched them away easily but she didn’t give up. “I didn’t mean it, ok. I do want you. I do want us to be together but I’m just scared of what Tommy will do. Please, please don’t this, I’m begging you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” she shook her head, desperately clutching at his cheeks in an attempt to force him to believe her. “Joe, I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. Please, put the matches away and don’t do this. Put them away and I promise you that me and Dylan will go anywhere you want. Please.”

Joe’s eyes bored into her and his jaw clenched as he thought about it. Saoirse tried to smile reassuringly and rubbed her thumbs across his cheeks. Anything to try and make him believe what she was saying. She almost fell to her knees with relief when he slipped the box back into his pocket and smiled at her.

“I knew you still loved me,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her.

Saoirse wanted to bite him, kick, slap, anything to get him off of her, but the soft cooing noises of Dylan coming from behind Joe made her go along with this disgusting pretence. Just a little while longer. She could do it.

She wound her trembling arms around his neck and his lips moved to kiss her neck at the same time as his hands brushed against her breasts. She closed her eyes and knew it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the small kitchen knife out of her sleeve and plunged it into Joe’s neck before she lost her nerve. And again. And again.

He fell to his knees, dragging her down with him as his hands grasped at her throat; squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air like a fish out of water and stars began to swim around her peripheral vision as his hands continued to crush the life out of her. She could hear Dylan start to cry and she reached her hand out towards the little crate, trying with all her might to reach him. Everything was going black and she knew she wasn’t going to make it.

But no sooner had that torturous thought crossed her mind did those hands loosen and she felt Joe’s dead weight upon her body. She pushed him off of her and just stared at his corpse lying on the dirty ground. She had killed him. She had killed a man. Remorse was not something she felt though. Instead all she felt was relief. He could never hurt her again.

Scrambling up to her feet, she gathered Dylan up to her chest, tears of relief and adrenaline dripping onto his soft head. Then she ran. She ran as fast her legs could carry her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Saoirse!” Tommy was out of the car and down the road the second he saw her in the rearview mirror.

She was covered in blood and he had never felt such terror in all his life; not even the night he had found her in the flat after Joe had assaulted her.

“It’s not mine, it’s not mine,” she sobbed as she all but knocked him over in her haste to get to him. “It’s not mine, Tommy.”

“Dylan?”. Oh God, please let Dylan be alright.

“Dylan’s fine,” Saoirse promised, shifting the blanket around the baby so Tommy could see that his son was completely unharmed. “I’m fine. We’re both fine. He’s not going to hurt us again, Tommy. I couldn’t let him hurt us again.”

“Saoirse what have you done?” Tommy breathed, cupping her face, still unable to believe she was alive and uninjured, standing in front of him like a vision.

“He’s dead,” she croaked. “I killed him.”

“It’s alright. It’s alright. Arthur’ll go to the warehouse and get rid of the body,” Tommy spoke to himself more than to her, before turning his attention back to his amazingly strong wife. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I told you you wouldn’t,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to his. “You’re never going to lose either of us. I love you, Tommy and I want to enjoy the rest of our lives now without worrying about the past. The past is over for good and our future is all I care about.”

“The future,” Tommy let out a shaky breath, his hands stroking his son’s fluffy hair as his wobbling lip’s met Saoirse’s.

The future was theirs and they were going to grasp it with both hands.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Five years later

“He’s been! He’s been!”

Tommy cracked open an eye at the sound of thundering footsteps bouncing down the hallway. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned when he saw it was only five in the morning.

“You can’t be grumpy on Christmas morning, Tommy,” Saoirse smirked knowingly as she opened her own eyes.

Tommy was prevented from replying when two very excited children burst in through the door with stockings in their hands and jumped on the bed giddily.

“Mummy! Daddy! He’s been!” Dylan squealed. “Father Christmas has been! Can I open my presents?

“Can I open my pwesents, Mumma?” Niamh asked. Two years younger than her brother and aged only three, she had the most adorable little lisp when she spoke and idolised the ground Dylan walked on. This of course meant copying everything he said and did.

“You can both open your stockings and then wait for me and Mum to come downstairs to open the rest,” Tommy answered. “Why don’t you go in your bedroom and open the stockings while we get dressed.”

The children were out of the room in a flash and Tommy grinned, snaking an arm around Saoirse’s waist.

“Next year there’ll be three of them to contend with,” he rubbed the slight swell of Saoirse’s stomach. “God help us, eh?”

“Well it was your bright idea,” she grinned at him, placing her hand over his. “I was happy with two.”

“Yeah but I can’t help that you make such beautiful babies,” Tommy smirked, leaning up to kiss her as his hand wandered and slid beneath her nightgown. “Now, I think we’ve got precisely eight minutes until they’re back in here, midering us to get downstairs and open the presents.”

“Hmm and what are you thinking we should do with those eight minutes, Mr Shelby?”

His only answer was to roll on top of her and slide himself inside her with a groan.

“I was thinking this might be an acceptable use of our time,” he smiled; biting at her bottom lip as he moved slowly inside her.

“Agreed,” she hissed clutching the sheets as his thumb rubbed at her clit.

They both knew there was no time for slow right now. They were on a time limit and every second counted, and Tommy made sure to use every single available second to bring Saoirse to the edge again and again. With a grunt he spilled himself inside of her and collapsed on top of her, careful not to let his weight rest on her too heavily and kissed her slowly.

And like clockwork the children appeared, eagerly chatting about what Santa had left in their stockings and what else might be waiting for them. Saoirse sat up and made a great show of interest in answering their giddy chatter.

Lying back in bed for a moment, Tommy watched his little family and smiled to himself. Whoever would have thought a woman could have come into his life looking for a job and caused him such grief and also brought him the most immense joy he had ever known.

His life was better with her in it and every day with her was a new chance to be a better person: a better father and a better husband. Every day was a new beginning for the rest of their lives.

[hazelnmae]

I'm dead. You've killed me. With all of this. This family is so amazing and you write each one of them splendidly! Oh John!! 😭

And my lord, the drama! I can't fucking wait to see where this goes!

New Beginnings (Tommy Shelby x OFC Chapter Nineteen)

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @justanothershelby​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @miidailyinspiration​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​ @lavenderhopehardy​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @biba3434​ @tv-obssessions​ @soargumentative​ @readbasoeverything​ @emilymarie0422​ @l0tsofpennies​

Dylan Arthur Shelby had entered the world a little over four weeks ago and already he was beloved by so many, but none so much as by his parents. Neither Saoirse nor Tommy could believe that they had been able to live their lives without knowing how it felt to love someone in the way they loved their son. They were enthralled and entranced by everything he did; every yawn, every burp, every gurgle was the most amazing thing to them both. In just a few weeks he had changed so much and every day he managed to look more and more like his father, if that was even possible. He was going to be a heartbreaker one day, especially with those ice blue orbs that seemed to look into the soul of whomever they stared at.

Keep reading

[hazelnmae]

I can't begin to explain how much I love this story. I'm obsessed!!! 😭😭😭 It somehow just keeps getting better and better!!! Ahhhhh!!! The tension!! Keep em coming, love!

New Beginnings (Tommy Shelby x OC Chapter Seventeen)

Warnings: this chapter does contains discussions of abortion

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @justanothershelby​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @miidailyinspiration​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @emilymarie0422​ @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​ @lavenderhopehardy​ @biba3434​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @tv-obssessions​

Tommy blinked. He wasn’t certain he had heard the words properly at first. Only he had. They just hadn’t quite sunk in properly yet. A baby. Saoirse was having a baby. They were having a baby. So why was she crying? This was what she wanted, what they both wanted. Wasn’t it? Hadn’t they just the night before lay in bed intertwined and talked about what their future children would look like? Or had that all just been a figment of his imagination?

“I thought this would have been a good thing?”

“A good thing?” Saoirse sobbed. “Tommy, I don’t know how I haven’t noticed but I’ve not had my

monthly since the night that we… which is the night that Joe did what he did. Now can you tell me you think this is a good thing?”

Tommy felt like she had dropped a bucket of ice cold water over his head instantaneously. Now he understood completely. If it was as it seemed and she was almost three months pregnant, there was no way to tell whether the baby was his or that bastard’s. There was only a matter of hours difference in between the timing. His mind was whirring with all sorts of thoughts and feelings. His first thought was for Saoirse. Hadn’t she been through enough? Wasn’t He upstairs, the man that Polly prayed to daily and with such devotion for a woman who needed no man in her life, satisfied that He had put Saoirse through enough? And now, when her life was finally going the way she deserved, when she finally had the joy and happiness that she was worthy of, it was in danger of being destroyed.

It was funny that the thing that should have concerned him most in that moment was the knowledge that his wife was possibly carrying another man’s child, yet he found that to be the furthest thing from his mind. She was his concern and nothing else. This beautiful woman who had come into his life and turned it up side down and made him happier than he ever thought he could be. This amazing strong woman who has gone through so much and managed to drag herself out of that life draining black pit of despair and hurt over and over again. But would she be able to drag herself out this time? It was obvious to Tommy that no matter whose baby it was, this wasn’t the welcome new Saoirse wanted. He couldn’t say he blamed her. After all, if the child was to be Joe’s it would be a constant reminder of what he had done and how he had tried to break her. Because having her face scarred for life wasn’t reminder enough apparently. But what if it was his? What if it was a child made out of love, their love?

“I don’t want it,” Saoirse croaked, disturbing him from his thoughts.

“You don’t mean that,” he said.

“I do,” she took a shaky breath. “I don’t want it, Tommy. I don’t want anything of his growing in me. I want it gone.”

“And if it’s mine?”

“It won’t be,” she shook her head, her bottom lip wobbling. “I know it will be his because this is me. Nothing ever goes right for me.”

“That’s not true,” Tommy cupped her face and put his forehead against hers. “What about us? We’re married and we’re happy… what’s wrong about that?”

“Being married to you is the only good thing I’ve ever had in my life,” Saoirse sighed. “But if I keep this baby then that’s ruined; it’s tarnished.”

“No,” Tommy said vehemently. “Don’t say that. A baby is a blessing.”

“It would be if it was yours,” she agreed.

“And there’s a fifty percent chance that it is mine.”

Saoirse looked down at her hands, picking absentmindedly at her nails. She just wanted to close her eyes and pretend this was all a bad dream. When she was back in the orphanage, she used to close her eyes at night and convince herself that when she awoke in the morning, the nightmare would be over. But dawn would come with its mocking cheeriness and she would be forced to continue to live her hell. She was a grown woman now and she didn’t have to live like that ever again. She had escaped Joe and the orphanage, and she wasn’t going to be dragged down again. Keeping the baby would ensure the extinction of the last glimpse of light she possessed and that was why she was adamant she couldn’t keep it.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Tommy,” she said finally. “But I expect you to respect my decision.”

“Respect your decision?” Tommy scoffed. “You expect me to take you to some back alley butcher and let them cut the baby out of you? A baby that might be mine?”

“Yes,” she whispered quietly. “Because if you loved me at all, you would understand why I can’t do this.”

“Don’t you dare play that card,” Tommy spat. “You know I love you, but I won’t stand by and let you kill my baby.”

“It might not be your baby.”

“And it fucking might well be!” he roared, launching his cap across the stable in a fit of rage.

Saoirse had never in her life been afraid of Tommy. She knew he could be dangerous when truly provoked, but she had never really seen that side of him before. She wasn’t scared of him in the way she ever had been of Joe because she knew deep down that Tommy would sooner die than lay a finger on her in anger, but she still didn’t relish being the cause of his rage.

The only sound that filled the stable was that of their heavy breathing and the gentle rustle of the horse eating its hay, seemingly unperturbed by the humans arguing in its temporary home. Tommy’s hands were clenched into tightly wound fists at his side and he was shaking with the effort it took to keep his anger in check. It wasn’t even Saoirse that he was mad at; he understood what she was saying completely. He was just mad at the entire situation. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, and he hated anything that was out of his control.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Saoirse replied sadly. “I’m sorry that my choice hurts you but it’s my choice, and I’m doing it with or without your approval.”

“Look, why don’t we just hold off from making any rash decisions right now?” Tommy sighed. “Let’s visit the doctor and just see what he says, then we can decide what to do?”

“I’ve told you what I’m doing.”

“Saoirse, please,” Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. “Please just see the doctor and we’ll talk?”

“Fine,” she agreed.

She would let Tommy think he could reason with her if that helped the situation, but the truth was that she was getting rid of it no matter what he or the doctor, or even the King for that matter, said.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Tommy had them booked in to see the very best doctor in Birmingham the next day, but no matter how good he was he couldn’t change the outcome of the situation. Saoirse was around ten weeks pregnant and no mortal knew who the father was; only the big man in the sky knew that and He was keeping his cards close to his chest. The silence during the car ride home had been deafening and Saoirse had sat as still as a statue, barely breathing, barely blinking. As the car pulled up on Watery Lane, Saoirse took a long breath before finally speaking.

“There’s a woman in Stoke who will do it and she’s far away enough to not know I’m married to a Shelby,” her voice was quiet yet determined. “Polly or Ada can come with me so you don’t have to and when I come back, we can forget all about this and live our lives how we intended to.”

Tommy didn’t trust himself to say a single word. Instead his back molar cracked under the intense pressure of his jaw grinding angrily as he tried to remain calm. In the end, he yanked open the car door and flew out down the road, his coat flailing behind him. Saoirse wanted so desperately to allow herself to feel guilty at hurting the person she loved the most in the world, but she couldn’t because she hurt even more herself. A new life growing inside of her was supposed to be precious and joyful, but this felt like an amalgamation of every bad thing that she had ever gone through in her life. Only the night before she had dreamt that when the baby was born, it had been the spitting image of Joe and she had awoken sweating and panting with tears pouring down her face. It had terrified her to no end and she knew she could never love a child that might have been borne from the most horrific ordeal she had ever lived through.

Sighing, she wiped away the tiny tear that rolled down her cheek and sniffed, determined to pull herself together before she went into the house. She had to be strong and get through this. Tommy might not see that it was for the best right now, but in time he would.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

In the week that passed, Tommy and Saoirse had barely looked at one another, let alone spoke. They lay in bed beside each other yet feeling further away than ever before. When the morning finally came for Saoirse to take the train to Stoke, Tommy was sat at the kitchen table smoking cigarette after cigarette while his wife packed her bag upstairs in their bedroom.

“Polly, have you seen my black heels?” Ada asked Polly as she chewed on a piece of toast and fixed her bobbed hair in the mirror.

“What’s wrong with your boots?”

“Nothing,” Ada shrugged. “But I just want to look nice.”

“You want to look nice?” Tommy narrowed his eyes coldly at her. “You want to look nice while you take my wife to get rid of our baby?”

Ada grimaced at how thoughtless she had been. She hadn’t meant to be so insensitive.

“I’m only going with her because she asked me to so she wasn’t alone,” Ada explained lamely.

“Yeah, that I understand,” Tommy muttered, flinging his cigarette into the ashtray. “But what I don’t understand is why you’re behaving like it’s a fucking day out to the seaside or something.”

“Tommy,” Arthur frowned, placing a reassuring hand on Ada’s shoulder. “Ada didn’t mean anything by it.”

“She didn’t?” Tommy frowned. “And you’re privy to the inner workings of Ada’s head, are you? No, of course you’re not because you can’t even make sense of the fucking pathetic thoughts in your own head, can you?”

“There’s no need for that, Thomas,” Polly admonished him sternly.

“I’m not asking for your opinion, Pol, so keep your nose out, eh?” Tommy glared.

“And I’m not giving you any opinion,” Polly answered tartly. “But I’m not going to let you to talk to everyone like shit because you’re in a terrible mood.”

“And why’s that, eh?” Tommy stood up angrily. “I’ll tell you why, shall I? In two hours’ time, my pregnant wife is going to get on a train to go to a city she doesn’t know so she can let a woman shove a fucking crochet hook or something equally as horrible up her, all so she can get rid of a baby that may or may not be mine. And there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about it because she’s made up her mind and I don’t have a fucking say in the matter. All I find myself wondering constantly is how I can get through to her that if she does this, if she gets on that train, she’s going to regret it for the rest of her life.”

“You can’t,” Arthur muttered.

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Arthur.”

“Arthur’s right,” Polly agreed with an almost wistful look upon her face. “You can’t get it through to her, but just maybe I can.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Saoirse looked up at the sound of the gentle rap on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

She gave a wobbly smile when she saw Polly holding a cup of tea and a plate of toast.

“Thought you might be hungry?” Polly smiled warmly, setting them down on the bedside table.

“Thanks Pol, but I don’t think I can eat anything,” Saoirse sighed, sitting down on the bed and putting her last few things into her overnight bag. “Is Tommy alright? I thought I heard him shouting downstairs.”

“You did,” Polly nodded. “He’s… well you don’t need me to tell you how he is because you already know.”

Saoirse chewed her lip and closed up her bag before looking at Polly with an unreadable expression.

“You think I’m horrid, don’t you?”

“No,” Polly shook her head, reaching forward to take one of Saoirse’s hands. “I don’t think that at all.”

“You don’t?” Saoirse couldn’t hide her surprise at the sincere softness in Polly’s tone.

“Not at all,” Polly smiled, sitting down at the end of the bed. “I can’t judge you for something I’ve done myself.”

Saoirse looked up and gasped, before frowning as Polly’s words sunk in.

“You? I didn’t… When?”

“When I was seventeen,” Polly sighed, looking at the clock on the bedside table, wishing she didn’t have to relive that time but knowing it was necessary. “I was young and naive; I thought I was in love and that he was the one. Turned out he was having it off with anything with a pulse, and I doubt I was the only one that got pregnant by him. But there was no way I could have kept it. My parents would have killed me, and so I got rid of it. And not a single day of my life has gone by where I haven’t thought about that baby. What would they be like? Would they be a boy or a girl? Would they have looked like me? Would they have been kind? Funny? But I’ll never know and I’ve lived with the guilt all my life. It’s funny really because even when I was there, having it done I didn’t feel anything; no attachment towards the tiny being growing inside of me. But days later when the baby finally came away, I knew I had made the biggest mistake of my life and could do nothing to change it.”

“And you think that’s what I’ll be doing if I go through with this?”

“Not necessarily,” Polly shook her head. “You’re your own person and your thoughts and feelings can’t and shouldn’t be changed by someone else. But what I would say is that if you are feeling even the slightest bit of doubt about going through with this then you need to think long and hard before it’s too late.”

Saoirse closed her eyes and let out a breath that made her shoulders slump with the weight of the burden she was carrying.

“I’m scared I won’t love it,” she whispered. “I’m terrified that if I keep the baby, it will come out looking just like Joe and that I’ll never be able to love it. What kind of life is that for a child?”

“And if it comes out looking like Tommy?”

“That won’t happen,” Saoirse sighed sadly. “I just know it won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Polly squeezed her hand once more. “And from one mother to another, I promise you that the very second that baby is placed in your arms, you will love it like nothing else you have ever known.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Saoirse sobbed. “What should I do, Pol?”

“It’s not for me to tell you, love,” Polly answered truthfully. “This is something you have to decide for yourself, but remember it affects not just you but Tommy as well. Your decision will affect the rest of your lives as a married couple.”

Saoirse nodded and rubbed her eyes wearily. When she had purchased the train ticket, she had been so convinced and certain in her decision, but as the days had passed that certainty had crumbled little by little. She had no idea what she was going to do, but one thing she definitely knew was that she had to decide fast.

[hazelnmae]

Oh. Good. Lord. Yes!! This is amazing, friend!

Forgiven (Alfie Solomons x reader one shot)

Hello lovely humans. I hope you’re all well? I wrote a little Alfie something for the lovely @deaflikehawkeye​ and hope both she and the rest of you lovelies enjoy it! 

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @justanothershelby​ @captainsbestgal​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @miidailyinspiration​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @lavenderhopehardy​ @geeksareunique​ @97freaknik​ @emilymarie0422​ @biba3434​ @tv-obssessions​ @l0tsofpennies​

You woke up later than usual. The bedroom was hot, even with only the thin nightgown you wore. Summer had arrived with a vengeance and Camden was not a fun place to be with such unusually sticky heat. You frowned when you noticed that Alfie was missing from his spot beside you in the large king sized bed. You smiled to yourself, remembering when Alfie had bought the thing after your wedding. You thought it was a ridiculously big bed for two people, but Alfie said that he liked his own space when he slept and didn’t like to feel cramped together.

“I aint one of those cuddly sleepers,” he had informed you with an almost disgusted frown. “Nah, all that stuff is for people what are so insecure about their relationship that they can’t even sleep without holding onto each other.”

Apparently though, Alfie was a liar. No matter how giant the bed was, his body was always pressed firmly against yours and his arms wrapped around you tightly so you couldn’t move. He always snored in your ear and his beard tickled your neck, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t prise him off of you. In the winter, you welcomed his warmth greatly. But these last few weeks had been so disgustingly hot that even Alfie had taken to rolling away from you because the sticky sweat that moulded you together wasn’t pleasant.

“Only time we should be sweating on each other like that is when I’m fuckin’ you to death. If it aint that then it aint worth it.”

Even though he had a point, you missed the feel of him against you. He was safe and comforting; your very own teddy bear. It was unusual for Alfie to leave without waking you first, and you wondered if perhaps something might have happened down at the bakery. Yes, that must be it. He had been working so hard lately, going in early and coming home late. You would take a nice cool bath and then make something lovely for his lunch. That was certain to bring a smile to his face. And yours.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

You heard Alfie shouting before you even stepped inside the doors of the bakery. The windows were open and you could hear him bawling at someone halfway down the street. It was with a grimace of embarrassment that you stepped through the door and were greeted politely by the workers.

“Y/N,” Ollie appeared, looking flushed not only with the heat but also with stress.

“Hello Ollie,” you smiled warmly. “What’s annoyed him today then?”

“What hasn’t?” Ollie muttered raising his eyebrows. “Anything and everything has set him off. Right now, he’s screaming at Tommy Shelby about the size of rum bottles. Luckily, Shelby is used to Alfie’s moods by now and is just sitting there and waiting for him to finish.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. You loved your husband dearly. You loved him more than anything on earth. But sometimes, just sometimes, you wondered if perhaps you had in fact saddled yourself for life to a petulant child with tantrums that  could rival that of any child.

“Well, I’ll go up there and see if I can’t calm him down,” you chuckled.

“Good luck,” Ollie smirked.

Alfie was still ranting as you climbed the steps to his office and when you knocked gently on the door, you received a lovely reply.

“Fuck off.”

Completely unfazed, and in fact, amused, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“I said fuck of- Oh, it’s you,” Alfie muttered, shooting you a glare that you weren’t sure whether he meant it intentionally or not. “What do you want?”

“Lovely to see you too, Alfie,” you pulled a face, showing him just unimpressed you were with his lack of warm reception.

“Well, I’m busy ain’t I?” he motioned to Mr Shelby with his hands. “Discussin’ business.”

“Shouting it more like,” you muttered under your breath, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mr Shelby’s lips twitch in amusement.

“Actually I’d say we’re about done now,” Mr Shelby decided, standing up with a groan as his knee cracked. “Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“And you,” you smiled back. “How are the children?”

“Getting far too big and with attitudes to match,” Tommy smirked.

“That’s children for you,” you grinned. “Did Ruby have a nice birthday?”

“Well she was spoilt rotten, so I’d say so,” Tommy nodded. “She’s still writing her thank you cards, so I’m sure you’ll be getting one soon. She’s enjoying the dolls house tremendously.”

“I thought she might,” you smiled. “I always wanted one growing up; I think every little girl does. Anyway, would you pass my regards on to Lizzie? I promised to call her and arrange dinner for us all soon, but time just seems to have escaped me lately.”

“Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing. After all, Charlie’s only just started sleeping in his own room again after the ghost stories your husband filled his head with when you last came for dinner,” Tommy motioned with his head towards Alfie who was sat at his desk, watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. “When you two finally have one of your own, I’ll be sure to return the favour.”

“So kind,” you smirked sarcastically.

“Well I’ll be off then,” Tommy nodded, popping his peaked cap on top of his head. “Alfie, you have a think about my offer and get back to me, yeah?”

Alfie grunted and start fiddling around with the papers on his desk, indicating rather rudely that he was finished with the meeting.

“Bye Y/N,” Tommy smiled at you with a twinkle of mirth in his eye.

“Bye,” you smiled back, waiting for him to leave and the sound of his feet to echo down the stairs before turning and facing your husband angrily.

“Well that was rude,” you frowned.

“Hmm,” Alfie grunted again, peering through his glasses and pretending to look at something.

“Alfie, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh nothin’,” Alfie muttered to himself. “I love comin’ to work and listenin’ to my wife flirt with a fuckin’ pikey.”

“Are you for fucking real?” you laughed, and then you realised that he actually was being serious. “First of all, do not use that word around me. As someone whose had his fair share of racial slurs thrown at him over the years, I never understand why you think it’s alright to do it to others. And second of all, I was not flirting with Thomas Shelby.”

“You were giggling like a school girl at everything he said,” Alfie sulked.

“No, I was being polite and friendly; two things that you apparently know nothing about,” you raised an impertinent eyebrow. “I brought you some lunch but I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known you were going to be such a psychopath.” You slammed the basket down on the table with a thud. “I’m leaving now. I was going to sit and eat with you but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

“Well fuck off then,” Alfie glared at you. “In fact if you hurry up, you’ll be able to catch up to your boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll take you out for lunch and use those perfect friendly manners of his, and then if you’re really lucky he might take you somewhere posh and fuck you just like you like.”

You had no words. You just stared at Alfie completely agape. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew he had gone too far, but in typical Alfie fashion he wouldn’t back down.

“You fucking knobhead,” you hissed, almost breaking the door off it’s hinges as you yanked it open and left without looking back.

Tears of anger were pouring down your face as you stormed past a concerned looking Ollie, but you didn’t stop to answer any questions he had. You just put your head down and kept walking. You walked the four blocks to your house, ignoring the greetings from the people of Camden who passed you by. You didn’t know what the hell Alfie’s problem was but you were appalled that he would say such a thing. You were his wife; the person who made vows to love and honour him, and as far as you could tell, you had done nothing to make him think otherwise. You turned a blind eye to his less than savoury business dealings and you were always doing things to show just how much you loved him. And you did. You loved him more than anything or anyone else in the whole entire universe. Even when he had his grumpy moments, you didn’t care because you knew he never really meant them at you. Until now. This time he had really gone too far and you weren’t certain how long it would take for you to forgive him, and that was even if he apologised. No, in all fairness you did begrudgingly have to give that to Alfie. He always apologised, even if it was just in a roundabout way. Well, he had some serious grovelling to do to fix this and you hoped he was ready for it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Alfie pushed open the front door as quietly as possible, feeling more than a little nervous. The house was quiet, unusually so and it filled him with unease. Cyril came padding down the hallway to his master without his usual excitement and joy. In fact, when he realised it was Alfie he turned and disappeared into the living room.

“Great, even the dog’s in a fuckin’ mood with me,” Alfie muttered to himself.

He hung up his coat and hat, and debated on keeping hold of his cane in case he should need to defend himself from any onslaught, verbal or otherwise, but he decided against it. Walking into the kitchen, the sight that greeted him was a far cry from that which usually welcomed him. There was no piping hot dinner set waiting for him on the table; no smiling wife beaming from ear to ear and wrapping her arms around his waist; no soft sounds of music from the wireless in the background. Instead, he was met by the sound of silence and a bin bag on the table with a letter beside it.

He grimaced when he read the cold and short letter informing him that his wife was in bed and didn’t wish to be disturbed by him. It also told him to look inside the bin bag and see what she thought of his pathetic attempt at apologising. Reluctantly, Alfie peered inside and found the mutilated remains of the flowers and teddy bear he’d had sent to her that afternoon. Mutilated was in fact an under statement. It was a fucking massacre.

Alfie sighed. He didn’t really know what else he expected. You always forgave him without question, but he’d really crossed the line this time. But he knew one thing and that was that he couldn’t function properly knowing you were upset with him. You were his world and knowing he’d upset you made him feel like he’d stabbed himself repeatedly in the heart. He had some serious making up to do. But how?

He grinned suddenly to himself. He had the perfect idea, and he was quite certain even you couldn’t resist it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

You heard Alfie come home and you heard him bumbling about downstairs in the kitchen; no doubt cooking his dinner. A little bit of you felt terrible because he had been at work all day after all, but then you quickly pushed that thought aside. No, it wouldn’t hurt him to know just how much he’d upset you. In fact, you were certain he’d be up the stairs any minute to grovel. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable thundering of his shoes as he stomped up the stairs.

It was an hour later when you woke up to Alfie shaking you gently. It was dusk and the bedroom was lit only by the soft tones of the bedside lamp. You took one look at Alfie and didn’t know whether to laugh or scream in horror.

“What the fucking hell are you doing?” you frowned, your eyes wide with… well, something.

“Do you like it?” Alfie grinned, twirling around and you couldn’t help but smirk at the impish look in his eye along with his interesting attire.

Alfie was naked; as naked as the day he was born apart from the flower patterned pink apron you wore when you were cooking. When he had turned, you had been afforded with a rather decadent view of his peachy derriere and you giggled. His hands bore a tray on which lay a platter of chocolate brownies, decorated with whipped cream and strawberries, all compiled together to make the shape of a heart.

“I’m sorry I was a dick,” Alfie scrunched up his nose and grimaced. “Do you think these might help you to forgive me?”

“You really think chocolate brownies will make up for the way you spoke to me today? You were completely out of line and it really hurt me.”

But even as you said it, your stomach gurgled and it took all of your willpower not to devour the brownies one go. Alfie knew sweet things were your weakness. He also knew that you were weak for him. That blood bastard; he’d literally used both your weakness against you and combined them into one.

“I know,” Alfie sighed, setting the platter on the bedside table before sitting down beside you on the bed. “I had a dream last night and it kind of turned me into a bit of a madman and made me doubt our relationship.”

“A dream made you doubt our relationship? A fucking dream?”

“It’s stupid, I know,” he scratched his head and looked at you sheepishly.

“Would you perhaps care to elaborate on this dream? I would really like to know what dream me did to make you doubt our relationship to the point where you would accuse me of wanting to fu…” you fell silent as it dawned on you and the little pieces all moved into place. “Was Tommy Shelby also in this dream by any chance?”

“Perhaps,” Alfie muttered reluctantly.  

“And he and I were… together? Like a couple?”

“Yes and no. You were still married to me, but then you fucked Tommy and realised how much of a better man he was than me and left me for him.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Alfie grumbled.

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t,” you scoffed. “I’d really like you to try and explain this one though, Alfie.”

“Look, Tommy Shelby is everything I’m not, aint he? He’s smartly dressed and speaks well, even with that awful accent of his. He’s got a big house in the country and is a bloody MP for cryin’ out loud. He would wine you and dine you and treat you like you deserve. I might have money but I aint refined; I’m common as muck. Tommy Shelby would give you servants and all the fine things in life that I never could.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” you grabbed him by the face, realising that he really was affected by this dream. You had never seen Alfie doubt himself in this way before, and especially not about you. “Alfred Solomons; if I wanted to be with a Tommy Shelby that’s the sort of person I would have marred, wouldn’t I? But I chose you, and do you know why? I mean aside from the fact you look good enough to eat wearing nothing but a flowery apron. You’re funny and sweet and generous. You make me happy when I’m sad and you make me feel like I’m the most beautiful person in the world every day. You’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with and have children with. You’re the person I want to grow old with and walk along that beach at Margate, talking about the wonderful life we’ve had together.”

“But what if one day you realise that I’m not enough for you?” Alfie whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

“That will never happen, Alf,” you promised him, stroking his face and brushing your lips against his gently. “If I wanted servants and fine things, I would only have to ask and you would make them happen for me. But the thing is I don’t want those things. I just want you, and I want you exactly how you are.”

As you pulled back to look at him, Alfie leaned forward, refusing to be parted from you. His tongue licked at your lips and he grinned when you opened up to let him in.

“You taste like chocolate brownies,” you commented with a smirk.

“Had to lick the bowl out, didn’t I?” Alfie grinned cheekily, his hand trailing up your thigh as he kissed you again. “But there’s somethin’ else I would much rather have been lickin’.”

“Oh is that right?” you muttered, your breath hitching as his fingers danced around the edges of your underwear.

Alfie yanked off your clothes and began to kiss his way down your body, sucking and licking like a man starved. When his mouth met with your core, you groaned and sunk back into the pillow in delight. When Alfie lifted his head a short time later, his lips soaking wet and red with the taste of you, he smirked.

“Am I forgiven now?” he asked.

You couldn’t even remember now what you had been so mad with him for in the first place. But all you knew was that he could upset you anytime if this was the way he made it back up to you. Grinning, you reached for one of the now cold brownies off the bedside table and sighed in delight. Yep. He was definitely forgiven.

[hazelnmae]

Ahhh!! So lovely! And the fact that this is for @deaflikehawkeye just makes it even better!! You're both just such lovely folks!! And this fic is amazing!! ❤❤

Heaven On Earth (Bob Saginowski x OC one shot)

Hello lovelies! So this is something I wrote for the beautiful and lovely  @deaflikehawkeye​. I wanted to incorporate an OC who was hard of hearing and she has been gracious enough to help and let me bombard her with questions. Thank you lovely!!! 

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @justanothershelby​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @miidailyinspiration​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @captainsbestgal​ @geeksareunique​ @97freaknik​ @emilymarie0422​ @biba3434​ @l0tsofpennies​ @lavenderhopehardy​ @tv-obssessions​

It was a cold yet sunny day in Brooklyn; the sort of day where the frost twinkles upon the ground, looking like something out of a postcard and the sunlight brings people forth from their homes to enjoy the crisp air. Bob Saginowski was just one of those people, although in all fairness Bob was one of those people in all weather. Every morning at precisely eight thirty, he would smile at Rocco and the excitable grey pitbull would run for his lead with all the grace and decorum of an elephant on ice skates.

The park they visited was only around the corner from the house Bob had once shared and grown up in with his now deceased parents. The early morning walk was good for both him and Rocco. It helped Rocco to socialise with other people and other dogs without piddling everywhere due to excitement, and it made Bob get out in the fresh air. If he wasn’t at the bar then usually he would be sat in the house, listening to music or watching the television, so having a reason to get out of the house was really rather nice.

Bob let out a breath and as he caught the misty condensation that escaped his mouth, he was momentarily transported back to his childhood; a time where the biggest worry he had was not getting home in time to watch his favourite tv show, or ripping open a box of cereal and praying with all of his might that the collectible toy wasn’t one he already had. He smiled to himself recalling those winter days spent with his friends holding a straw to their mouths and pretending that their cold breath was smoke from their pretend cigarettes. But just as soon as the smile came, it fell from his face. Bob always felt guilty smiling or feeling happiness of any sort. He was a man who looked soft on the outside but inside he harboured dark secrets that stuck to him like tar. They never left him and as such, he carried their weight with him always like a cross upon his back. Not even church could absolve him of those sins, but being in the Lord’s house brought him a tiny measure of peace if only for the short time he was there.

So lost in his wayward thoughts, Bob didn’t notice the young woman sat on a bench beneath the shelter of the oak tree; now bare and eagerly awaiting the return of spring. What he did notice though was Rocco deciding that the patch of grass right beside the woman’s feet was the perfect place to take his morning poop. He shouted to Rocco, but of course his (un)faithful best friend did as he pleased and completely ignored his master.

Bob began his sprint across the narrow field, although like in every nightmare anyone had ever had, the faster he tried to run, the slower his legs seemed to move. He called out to the woman, telling her not to move but she didn’t even look up from her phone. Bob thought perhaps he should let her stand right in it just to teach her a valuable lesson about the dangers of  society and their addiction to modern technology, but he didn’t have it in him. Sure, he had murdered a man in cold blood and had the body decomposing in his cellar, but the good manners his mother had instilled in him cringed at the thought of allowing someone to stand in his dog’s excrement.

“Sorry,” he apologised, finally reaching the bench and kneeling down immediately to scoop up the mess with one of the little bags he kept in his pocket. “This little guy loves to ignore me and do whatever he pleases.”

The woman looked up finally and frowned at him in confusion. But it took Bob a few moments to register the furrowed brows, because all he could focus on was her eyes. They were almost amber in colour with sporadic hazel flecks, and they were framed by beautifully long lashes that were devoid of any mascara or other stuff that women insisted on plastering their faces in. It wasn’t that Bob was adverse to women wearing make up; it was that he was adverse to the way women hid their natural beauty behind a mask of something they thought people wanted them to look like.

Rocco jumped up onto the woman’s lap and began licking at her face happily making her giggle. Her face was even more beautiful when she was smiling and Bob was certain he had never seen a sight so beautiful in all of his life. He thought about the times he attended Mass and sometimes when it was a special occasion, such as Christmas or Easter, they managed to get in the choir from one of the neighbouring churches and the sound of those voices was like angels. It was ethereal and otherworldly but in the best kind of way. When Bob looked upon the woman’s beaming face it was as though he could hear those celestial harmonies clear as day.

“What’s his name?” the woman suddenly asked, breaking Bob from his unusually sappy thoughts.

Bob blinked. Her voice was soft and husky yet distinctly feminine.

“Rocco,” Bob mumbled eventually.

“Rocco,” she smiled, scratching the dog’s ear affectionately. “He’s sweet.”

“Nah, he’s a devil,” Bob smirked, sitting down beside her on the bench, waiting for Rocco to come over to him.

But the pitbull was far too busy acquainting himself with whatever was in his new friend’s coat pockets.

“Rocco,” Bob said firmly, completely unsurprised when Rocco continued sniffing at the black parka coat that had captured his interest. “He’s a horror; if you tell him no he’ll listen to you probably better than he listens to me.”

The woman looked up at him and frowned, and that was when Bob noticed it. The woman saw him looking at the cochlear implant she had attached to the side of her head and smiled shyly tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Does it hurt?” Bob asked, pointing to her head and then internally cringing at himself for asking such a thing.

“No,” she chuckled. “I’ve had it for a long time.”

Bob nodded, his eyes falling to his feet. He looked up again and held out a hand towards her.

“I’m Bob Saginowski.”

“Holly MacKinnon,” she shook his hand, giggling again when Rocco pushed himself in between them and began licking their fingers. “Have you had Rocco long?”

“Few months,” Bob shrugged, his head down as he patted Rocco’s head. “Found him in a bin and been attached to him ever since.”

“I didn’t catch that,” Holly said. “I need to see your lips to make out better what you’re saying otherwise it’s all gibberish.”

“Oh,” Bob grimaced to himself, lifting his face to meet hers again. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

He repeated the brief story about how he had come to acquire Rocco and Holly looked at him sadly.

“People can be so cruel,” she sighed, her eyes falling momentarily to Rocco. “Poor boy. But he’s got you now and I can see that you adore him.”

“Never really took myself for a pet owner of any sort, but he wrangled his way into my life and I don’t think I could be without him now,” Bob smiled. “What about you? You got any pets?”

“No,” Holly shook her head. “Had two dogs when I was growing up but then after they died, I kind of felt too afraid to get another because it hurts too much to lose them. And now I live in a shitty little apartment that is definitely no place for a dog to live. I do however have a pet spider that lives above my kitchen window. When I say pet though, I mean uninvited guest who I’m too afraid of to try and move.”

Bob grinned and Holly was taken aback by his handsomeness. She had noticed him a few times during her early morning visits to the park, where she just enjoyed the feeling of fresh air upon her face and usually a book or magazine in her hands, and his seriousness was the thing she remembered the most. He had such a serious face; brows always furrowed over eyes that she could now see were neither blue nor green but instead were the perfect mix of both combined, and full lips that were always pursed as though he was upset about something. Now, seeing his lips pulled back into a smile that showed teeth that were straight and white apart from one snaggle tooth at the front that somehow was imperfectly perfect on him.

“I should get going,” Bob announced, clipping Rocco’s lead onto his collar. “Gotta get to work, you know.”

“Oh yeah, I understand,” Holly nodded, unable to hide the slight disappointment she felt.

Holly worked from home as a ghost writer. It was her passion and something that could be done alone, and most correspondence with clients was done through email which suited her down to the ground. But occasionally it was a lonely existence that left her feeling somewhat isolated. Back home, in the small east coast town she had grown up, everyone knew everyone and as such most people knew she was deaf without her having to tell them. She didn’t have to explain how she had been born hard of hearing and that by the time she was eleven she was completely deaf. She didn’t have to explain how she preferred to have a conversation in sign because it was easier than trying to lip read. She didn’t have to explain that shouting or over enunciating words only confused her and made it hard to understand what a person was saying. And more than anything she didn’t have to explain that just because she was deaf it didn’t mean she still didn’t have a personality; that she didn’t like to laugh and joke the same as everyone else, or that she enjoyed going to the movies and watching disgustingly obscene amounts of Netflix. But here, she was unknown and while in many ways it was refreshing, it was also lonely. Usually when people found out she was deaf they would make an excuse to get away in order to cover up their awkwardness at not knowing how to communicate with her.

“Maybe we’ll see you around sometime?” Bob wondered out loud. “We’re here most mornings.”

“I know,” Holly answered without thinking. “God, that makes me sound like some sort of stalker, doesn’t it? I swear that’s not the case, although I realise that’s exactly what a deranged stalker would say. But whether you choose to believe me or not, I swear to you that I just come here almost every morning to get some fresh air before work and stuff.”

“I think I trust you,” Bob teased lightly, standing up. “I mean, Rocco hasn’t bitten your face off yet like he did to the last girl who stalked us in the park.”

“Well that’s certainly a compliment and a half,” Holly grinned as she stood. “I’ll see you around then, I guess?”

Bob nodded, zipping up his coat and fixing his hat to sit more comfortably on his head, but made no attempt to actually move. Neither did Holly. They just looked at each other as though there was something more to say but neither of them knew what. All they knew was that some sort of invisible pull had wrapped itself around them both. It was only when Holly went to step back did they realise that Rocco had wrapped a very real bind around them both in the form of his stretchy lead. Luckily Bob steadied her before she could land very ungracefully on her behind with a thud.

“Bad Rocco,” Bob scowled at his little pup, who did nothing more than tilt his head and give his master the most adoring look. Bob’s stern facade quickly crumbled and Rocco wagged his tail happily before sitting himself on top of Holly’s feet, before staring at Bob with that sweet look again. “Rocco, come on now. We gotta go.”

But Rocco would not be moved. He moved himself into a lying position and proceeded to shut his eyes and pretend to sleep.

“I told you he’s a little horror when it suits him,” Bob sighed.

Crouching down, Holly scooped Rocco up into her arms and nuzzled him against her cheek.

“He’s also ridiculously cute,” she said. “I don’t know how you ever say no to him.”

“I don’t,” Bob pulled a face and then broke into a smile again. “You know… I’m just gonna throw this out there and feel free to say no, but maybe if you’re not in a rush we could grab a coffee or something?”

“I’d like that,” Holly smiled as Rocco licked her cheek sloppily. “But only if I get to keep Rocco until we get there.”

“Keep him forever if you want.”

“You don’t mean that,” Holly narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

He didn’t.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Somehow over the space of the next three months, Bob and Holly became good friends and a walk in the park followed by coffee had become their daily ritual. They had a lot in common; liked the same movies, read the same books, wanted to visit the same countries and places. Holly watched Rocco for Bob sometimes when he was at work, and he would come home to find the two of them cuddled up and fast asleep on the sofa together. As much as Bob didn’t want to admit it, he enjoyed coming home to that very sight. There was something missing in his life and he had a feeling she was it. But she had never really given him the slightest hint that she might like him back, and it wasn’t in Bob’s nature to ask.

Women and relationships were a complication; something that sounded lovely and heartwarming, but in reality probably wouldn’t fit with his lifestyle. After all, he worked most nights and during weekends and holidays. No woman wanted that. But Holly, she was different. Whether it was conscious or not, she had shown him that it could work with the right person. Some nights, she would bring her laptop to the bar and sit doing her writing, holding up her glass with a cheeky smile when she wanted a refill and then once all the customers had left she would help him get cleaned up. It was those times that he was able to observe her as much as liked. He would look across the bar and watch the way her nose was scrunched up in concentration, and the way she chewed her bottom lip when she was trying to think of a word. But his most favourite thing about her was the way she mouthed the words she was typing. He didn’t know why, but he just found it to be rather endearing.

In fact, he found almost everything about her to be endearing. She was beautiful and kind, and she had the most wicked sense of humour. About two months back, she had invited him to come to a meeting she attended once a fortnight where other hard of hearing people and their families would meet and just talk about their daily struggles with others who understood what it was like. Holly had explained that one of the older ladies who attended always made the most delicious chocolate brownies and that it would make her evening if Bob signed his thanks to her.

Poor, trusting Bob had been well and truly played by the devilish woman who by then had already started to capture his heart. He had been more than a little confused when he had thanked the woman and not only she, but also the surrounding people, had burst out into raucous laughter. He had frowned at Holly but she had been doubled over, red faced and laughing so hard that she actually had to cross her legs to stop herself from peeing.

“I’m so sorry, Bob,” she snorted leading him over to a quiet corner of the room. “I did a terrible thing.”

“I didn’t say thank you to that woman, did I?” Bob eyed her warily.

“No,” she shook her head.

“What exactly did I say to her?”

“I’m not sure I can tell you.”

“That’s fine,” Bob nodded. “I think Rocco and me were getting fed up of your face anyway.”

“Hey!” Holly punched him on the shoulder with a glare. “You leave Rocco out of this.”

“Tell me then,” Bob folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a cruel man, Bob Saginowski,” Holly shook her head in disappointment. “But you leave me no choice, I suppose. What I actually showed you to say to her was ‘These brownies are the same colour as my diarrhoea’.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He just looked at her like he didn’t even know her and Holly suddenly felt terrible.

“Bob, I’m so sorry,” she grimaced, taking his hand. “I was only joking. I thought you’d find it funny.”

“You thought I’d find being humiliated and belittled funny?”

Holly looked down at her feet, ashamed of herself. Her black vans began to look fuzzy as tears clouded her vision and she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt Bob’s arms come around her shoulder as he pulled her in for a hug that made her feel so safe and warm. She felt his lips brushed softly against the side of her head and when she looked up, he was frowning at her in concern.

“I was only winding you up, Hol,” he said. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” he smiled. “But you do know of course that I’m going to have to get you back for this at some point, right?”

“I guess I deserve it,” she smiled back.

Bob shook his head and used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen down her rosy cheeks. His eyes held hers, and for a moment there was only the two of them in the room. There was no one else around and just as Bob began to dip his head towards her, she felt someone tap her on the arm. The meeting was about to begin, and reluctantly they took their seats. Holly couldn’t control her nerves as they spent the next hour and a half sat next to one another, and when they left she was desperate to get home and figure out what the hell had almost just happened.

After the incident at the meeting, Bob had taken it upon himself to begin learning sign. He refused to be caught out like that again, but more than anything he wanted to make the effort for Holly. He wanted her to know how much her friendship meant to him. He was just waiting for the right time to show her.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Bob unlocked the door with a tired sigh, waiting for Rocco to come bounding towards him, but he was greeted by silence with the intermittent, unmistakable sound of snoring. Smiling to himself, Bob slipped off his shoes by the door and padded down the hallway into the living room. Just as he predicted, his two favourite beings in the world were fast asleep on the couch with a blanket haphazardly thrown over them and the tv on standby. As gently as possible, Bob pulled the blanket up so it covered Holly better and he allowed himself the luxury of tracing her full lips with his intense eyes and counting the light dusting of freckles across her nose.

Holly knew Bob was home. She didn’t need to hear the front door open or his footsteps through the house because she just knew. Whenever Bob was near, she got this fluttering in her stomach and an almost static feeling around her. It was exhilarating and scary and comforting all at the same time. She opened her eyes and there he was, watching her. She should have found his behaviour odd or maybe even alarming, but all she felt was the urge to sit up and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

“Hey,” Bob smiled.

“Hi,” Holly smiled back.

With great difficulty, Holly tried to manoeuvre herself out from underneath Rocco. She failed miserably though and the pitbull decided he wanted to go out into the garden to do his business. Bob and Holly sat on the backdoor step watching him sniff around the rose bush that Bob’s mother had lovingly tended for years until her passing. Holly still had the green and red tartan blanket around her shoulders and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bob shiver ever so slightly. Smiling, she edged closer to him and wrapped the blanket around him as well.

“It’s cold,” she said.

“Is it?” Bob looked down at her.

The expression in his eyes was unreadable and Holly held her breath as his head dipped. When his cold lips touched her own, she pulled back in shock. Bob kissed her. He actually bloody kissed her.

“I’m sorry,” Bob apologised, mistaking her action for disgust or upset. “I thought-“

But Holly silenced the rest of his sentence by kissing him back. She was a little over enthusiastic and their teeth clashed together as though they were two youngsters kissing another human for the first time. It was rather clumsy yet full of passion.

Bob lifted his hand to cup Holly’s cheek as his tongue licked gently at her lips, seeking entry which she gave willingly. They kissed as though it wasn’t three in the morning and below freezing outside. They kissed as though it was just something they had always done.

When Rocco trotted back inside and the two of them followed, neither spoke or questioned what was happening as they made their way upstairs. Their clothes fell off and their bodies melded together as if made for each other. Months off pent up sexual tension and frustration dissipated into something tender and loving that neither would ever forget in a hurry.

Afterwards, as they lay in bed, curled up together in a way that felt so natural and normal, they both wondered how they had ever managed to sleep alone without the other. Bob pressed a kiss to Holly’s head. Her eyelids were fluttering shut and he knew sleep was ready to claim her. If he was honest, it was ready to claim him as well. But he forced himself to stay awake and soak in this moment for just a little while longer.

Holly looked up at him questioningly and he just smiled back, feeling more content than he had in a long time. And that was when he knew it. Sitting up, he switched on the bedside lamp before taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

At first, Holly thought she was imagining things when his hands began to move. She blinked, wondering if it was just coincidence. But then she looked into his eyes and saw it there, shining out for her like a beacon of light.

He moved his hands again.

I love you.

“Did I do it wrong?” he asked, speaking and signing at the same time when she didn’t react.

Holly couldn’t speak. Her throat felt like she had swallowed a golf ball and she felt like she was dreaming.

“I’ve been learning,” Bob explained. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No,” Holly whispered eventually, a lone tear sliding down her cheek and falling onto the quilt.

She didn’t know what she had done to deserve someone like Bob Saginowski, but she knew with all of her heart that she was never going to let him go.

I love you too, Bob.

Luckily for Holly, Bob had no intention of ever letting her go either. She was stuck with him forever.  Holly achieved the one thing that prayers and church didn’t. She healed him and she brought him the constant peace he craved. She absolved him of every sin without even realising it.

She was his heaven on earth.

[hazelnmae]

Oof, simply amazing, friend! This is just... hnnnnmmm... Seriously, your writing makes my day and your smut is golden!! This is so so so good!! 😭😭😭

Joy (James Delaney x reader one shot)

Ok so this is my first attempt at writing James Delaney so if it’s not perfect I can only apologise. This is a piece of shameless James SMUT for my bestie @hazelnmae​! 

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @justanothershelby​ @captainsbestgal @deaflikehawkeye​ @miidailyinspiration​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @geeksareunique​ @lavenderhopehardy​ @l0tsofpennies​ @tv-obssessions​ @biba3434​ @emilymarie0422​

You felt the bed sink as your husband climbed in beside you. His raw, masculine scent invaded your nostrils, and they flared as you were hit with that familiar need in the lower part of your body. He always came to bed far later than you; and just like always he enveloped you in his arms. His warm lips were against the sensitive skin of your neck; his stubble tickling you and bringing you out into goosebumps. He smiled against your skin and you felt his rock hard erection pressing itself against your bottom.

“Stop James,” you snapped, hating yourself for saying those very words but refusing to give in to him.

This was exactly like your husband of four years. James Keziah Delaney was a man who always got his own way and if he didn’t, he pouted like a petulant child. Usually, whenever the two of you had argued about something, you ended up giving in because you hated the darkness that came from him when he was angry. It wasn’t that you thought he would ever hurt you. In fact, you knew he would die before laying a finger on you in anger, but it was hard to explain the oppressive air of his that suffocated you when he was unhappy.

This evening, he had walked in after having left at the crack of dawn and was in a foul mood. You had made one little remark about him having the decency to let you know if he was going to be home late for dinner, because the chicken you had made was now dry as a bone.

“I don’t care how it tastes,” James eyed you with a frown. “It’s edible, in which case I’ll eat it.”

“That’s not the point I’m making, James,” you sighed.

“It’s not?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “Because I’m certain the reason your face looks like you’re chewing on a sour lemon is due to the fact that you believe dinner to be ruined.”

“That’s just part of it,” you said exasperatedly. “It’s not just about the food; it’s about the fact that dinner is a time when we’re supposed to sit and talk about our day and spend quality time together.”

“To you perhaps,” James shrugged. “But to me, dinner is merely about wetting my lips and filling my stomach; nothing more.”

“And when we have children, one day?” you asked. “Is it so wrong of me to want to sit and have a nice family meal where we can enjoy being together? When we have children, I can’t have them waiting hours and hours for you to come home before they can finally eat, all because you can’t be bothered to tell me when you’ll be back.”

“Well that’s hardly going to a problem anytime soon, is it?” James scoffed, forking chicken into his mouth. “We’ve been married four years and there’s still no sign of a babe planting itself in your womb. You should be more upset about your barrenness then me arriving home in time for our imaginary children’s dinner.”

Your face blanched and you felt truly as though he had stabbed you with a knife right in the stomach. The pain you felt was indescribable and you couldn’t hold back the tears that flowed freely down your face. They were tears of hurt; hurt from your husband’s cruel, careless words and hurt from the guilt you felt every month when mother nature appeared with a painful vengeance.

You knew James hadn’t meant the words in the way they had come out. He was always the one wiping your tears and reminding you that he loved you for you. Children were an added blessing, but ultimately all he wanted and needed was you. You knew his terrible mood was from something to do with work and he had just said something to hurt you, in order to make you drop a subject that irked him given his sour state. You were used to James and his games by now. But this time he had hit a raw nerve and you didn’t think you would be ready to forgive so easily on this occasion.

“Stop?” James frowned, and then suddenly he chuckled darkly. “You’re not still upset about what I said at dinner? You are, aren’t you? Oh for goodness sakes, Y/N; I think you’re being rather unreasonable.”

“I think I’m being perfectly reasonable actually,” you huffed, trying to ignore the frisson of fear that shot through you at the angry look in James’ eyes as they pierced you through the darkness. “Too often you say things you don’t mean in the heat of the moment and I always forgive you without an apology, but not this time.”

“So you want an apology?” he sneered. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” you sighed. “It’s not that simple, James. I don’t want you to say sorry because you think that’s what I want to hear. I want you to say sorry because you mean it and because you understand how much you hurt me with your words.”

James turned your face so he could look at you properly and his fingers traced the lines of your face.

“Y/N,” he murmured, brushing his lips against yours softly.

The feel of his mouth upon yours was almost your undoing, but you couldn’t let go of the anguish you felt when you thought about his words. Perhaps it wasn’t even him that you were upset with, but more at yourself for being unable to fall pregnant with a child. Regardless of whether your hurt was directed at your husband or yourself, you couldn’t forget what he had said.

“James, stop,” you said with more force then the time before.

He continued to kiss you; his mouth working down your throat and with great difficulty you pushed him away. James’ nostrils flared with anger as he pulled away from you with a scowl.

“You’re being serious?” he let out a huff of indignation.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

“Well, in that case don’t let me disturb you any further.”

The bed felt cold without James in it, and as his angry footsteps thudded down the hallway you resisted every urge you had to chase after him and beg him to return. Curling onto your side, you pulled up your legs into the foetal position and cried yourself pitifully to sleep.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The forest was quiet, disturbed by only the jovial tweet of the birds high up in the trees. The soil was soft beneath your feet and you curled your toes into it, allowing yourself to feel at one with the earth.

You could hear someone calling your name; an ethereal whisper through the leaves that urged you forward. A tiny turquoise dragonfly buzzed in front of your eyes, and you followed it through the gnarling and twisting trees until you reach a clearing.

You stepped through the trees and onto the bank of a great lake. It was murky but not dirty and you found yourself wading into it without even a second thought. The water was cold against your naked skin and its frigidness invigorated you. You heard the voice calling for you again and you closed your eyes, relishing in its deep, familiar hum. You heard the gentle movement in the water behind you, but you felt no fear at whomever approached. And when strong arms encircled you, you leaned into their familiarity; breathing in the scent of sandalwood and sage.

“James,” you murmured, throwing your head back as his hands cupped your breasts, teasing your nipples until they were aching with the need of his mouth around them.

You should have known he would do this. You should have known this was how he would come to you. Here, you were defenceless against him and both of you knew it. Here, you were unable to resist the hold he had over you and your body.

He hummed against your neck and he bit down hard at the same time as his hand found your centre. His thumb rubbed in achingly slow circles with just enough pressure to bring you to your knees if it hadn’t been for his other arm wrapped around you so tightly that he held you upright.

You felt James grin against your skin as his tongue licked at the blood he had drawn with his teeth. You hissed and writhed as the pressure against your clit increased and James slipped a finger inside of you at the same time.

“James, I want you inside me,” you bit your lip, desperate to be joined with your husband.

“Hmm,” he murmured, kissing you just beneath your ear. “Tell me you forgive me first.”

“I…” you groaned as his hand dropped from you, leaving you suddenly frustrated and alone all at the same time.

“Look at me, Y/N,” his voice was deep and calm.

You turned and allowed your gaze to travel wantonly over his body. Your fingers traced the black inkings that covered his skin and you reached forward to kiss his heart. You smiled as it beat wildly beneath your lips and you knew that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you.

“Tell me you forgive me,” James lifted your head, and his eyes were intense as they stared into your own. “Tell me you forgive me for my thoughtless words.”

“I forgive you,” you said, running your hand down the hard planes of his toned stomach and down…and down.

“Ah ah,” his hand upon your wrist gripped you tightly, stopping you in your wanderings. “You’re saying it but I need to feel it. I need to feel your forgiveness.”

“Let me show you my forgiveness,” you purred, sinking to your knees in the shallow water.

James inhaled sharply the second you took him into your mouth, and his hands worked themselves through your hair as you licked and sucked, tasting every inch of him. You could speak words of forgiveness over and over but this was how your husband would know you meant them. When your bodies were connected in one way or another, it was impossible to lie.

You could feel James was close by the way he twitched in your mouth and by the way he gripped your hair for dear life. But this wasn’t the way he wanted it to end and he yanked you up roughly. He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the shore.

The damp soil was soft beneath your back as James lay you down. He loomed over you before dipping his head down to kiss at your centre. Your grabbed desperately at the soil as his mouth brought you to the height of your pleasure within seconds.

He didn’t give you time to come down from your high, and when he slid himself inside of you, there was a clap of thunder and from nowhere the heavens opened, pouring their life giving rain all over you both. The rain mingled with the blanket of earth you lay upon, and as you both reached an explosive climax, you felt as though Mother Earth was giving her own blessing upon you and your womb which so far had been devoid of life.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The sun peeked in through a crack in the drapes and you squinted against its brightness. It wasn’t like you to sleep in so late, but your night had been far from peaceful. You rolled over in bed and that was when you saw it.

Grinning, you slipped on your thin nightgown and followed the trail of dried clay footsteps along the hallway. You found your husband soaking in the porcelain bathtub, his eyes closed as he muttered strange words beneath the haze of steam that shrouded his face.

“You look tired,” he opened his eyes suddenly to look at you. “Busy night?”

“You should know something about that,” you smirked, kneeling down beside the tub where your face was now level with his.

“Off your feet,” he ordered. “No more kneeling for you. I’ll have no mother of my unborn child on her knees. Not even for me.”

You smiled at one another, knowing you had both felt it. Whether it was real or whether it was only hope and faith, time would tell.

As it turned out, nine months later you brought your screaming daughter into the world with your husband by your side. And as she was delivered, the sky lit up in great shades of silver as the Mother professed her joy.

But her joy was nothing compared to your own.

[hazelnmae]

Lies Travel Faster Part Two: Chapter 9

The final chapter, y’all. This story has been a beast to tackle and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing.

It’s done for now, but I’m reluctant to say it’s done forever. I can’t wait to see where S6 takes us and may revisit these two when it’s here!

Thank you for reading along!! This is the best fandom in the world!

XOXO

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s past is coming for her. Can she outrun it?

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death; suicidal ideology

Chapter 9 Read chapter 8 here

Sophie looked through the scope surveying the stage. Everything was exactly as Tommy said it would be. The podium was set slightly off center, the banner hung directly behind it, and a small piece of tape marked the floor where Tommy would stand. He’d even described the decor to the finest detail, sketching out on a small piece of paper where each fern would be placed by the stage. Sophie hadn’t understood why he bothered with such details, but she enjoyed being close with him again and chose to just let him go on so she could watch the way his mouth moved when he spoke.

She was physically ready, wiping the sweat from her palms and rolling her head to loosen the tension in her neck. She checked the pocket watch Tommy had slipped her. She had fifteen minutes.

It was mental readiness she lacked. Sure, she’d been in situations like this before, and she’d always handled them with more grace and aplomb than anyone would have imagined she would, but this was different. It wasn’t just her safety that balanced precariously on her shoulders It was Tommy’s as well.

Her mind flashed back to that morning two years before, the morning that everything had changed. The moment that Robert pulled the trigger still haunted her. She remembered the sensation in her fingertips. The click of the gun as she realized it’d jammed. The ringing in her ears as she fell to the floor beside Tommy. She remembered how bright red his blood was as it wet his shirt.

The fifteen minutes she waited for him to enter the arena were the longest she could remember. But when he finally entered, even the roaring crowd couldn’t drown out the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Each beat was both heard and felt as she watched him approach the stage and take his place.

It was the first time she’d seen him since leaving his office that morning, but she hadn’t stopped thinking of him.

He’d been able to move without waking her, reaching for his coat and removing his cigarette case and lighter. It wasn’t until he lit the cigarette that she woke, hearing the lighter strike and the slow burn of the paper.

She smiled before ever opening her eyes, remembering at that instant exactly where she had fallen asleep.

She felt him beneath her. The skin of her cheek pressed against the skin of his chest. She felt him breathing, the deep breaths he took as he inhaled his cigarette. She smelled the warmth of him, even though the room was cold.

“Good morning,” she said quietly, raising her head to look into his steely blue eyes.

Tommy stared back, looking deep into hers, and Sophie realized how much she’d missed that look. She’d missed those eyes. The smile behind them that he’d kept hidden from so many people.

He said nothing, but gently rubbed her lips with the pad of his thumb. And that gesture said all she needed to hear.

“We’ve wasted so much time,” she said.

“No more,” Tommy responded. “That’s enough. One more day. One more job.”

Sophie chucked. “And then what? We rest? It’s over? You and I both know that’s not true.”

Tommy sat up, pushing Sophie with him to sit on the sofa. He wrapped the small blanket they’d slept under around her shoulders and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm her. His cigarette hung languidly from his lips as he spoke.

“No,” he said. “I suppose not.”

Sophie looked down at her hands. Too many thoughts flooded her mind at once. What had been, what was now, what could come. It overwhelmed her, almost pushing her to the brink of tears. But she finally had him back. She was finally there, really with him, and she wouldn't be scared away.

“But we can stop wasting time. I never stopped thinking about you--.”

“Nor I,” she interrupted, before leaning in for another kiss.

They had finally made their way back to one another and now they were risking it all.

Sophie returned the watch to her pocket and fished out the small, metal capsule. It was strange that something so small could signify so much. She found herself wondering how quickly everything could change, to  epic proportions. One tiny capsule could take him away, forever. Turning it over in her fingers, she thought about how close he’d been, how many times he’d resolved to end it. She couldn’t help but hope it was the thought of her that had stopped him every time. He carried the answer in his pocket, but he hadn’t been able to do it. She hoped he’d been holding on for her.

She felt a familiar lump rise in her throat and failed to stifle the scoff that came with it. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

She placed the capsule in her mouth and used her tongue to move it between her teeth and cheek on the side of her mouth. It tasted metallic--like blood--and she shook her head to rid herself again of the sight of his blood as it threatened to take over her mind’s eye once and for all.

Sophie steadied the gun and trained her sight down the scope.

She looked at Tommy first, confirming that he was in place.

And as she turned slightly to move her sights toward Mosley, she saw the expression on Tommy’s face. It was a look she hadn’t seen in years, but it was instantly familiar.

Fear.

And that’s when she heard a deafening bang behind her.

She knew immediately that the sting in her back was from a bullet. The pain flooded her mind and before she could turn to see her assailant, she’d been forced to the floor by a boot pressing against her wound.

Presence of mind, though, through the pain and fear, allowed her to move the capsule from its hiding place in her mouth--placing it between her teeth. If she’d been a god-fearing woman, she would have prayed. As it were, she thought of Tommy as she bit down. The bittersweet taste of almonds was the last thing she acknowledged before it all turned black.

______________________

“Where’s Sophie?” Tommy demanded as he paced the small dressing room under the arena.

It was just he and Arthur, who was covered in blood from fighting for his life.

He wasn’t sure where it’d all gone wrong, but he knew it had. And now he was properly fucked.

“She’s gone,” Arthur answered, running a hand through his hair. He knew his brother was already fragile. Learning that Sophie hadn’t made it out safely was likely to push him over the edge. But he couldn't think of any other way to say it than to just come right out with the truth.

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“They’ve taken her.”

Tommy tried to storm past him, grasping for the door as Arthur caught him by the shoulders and fought to steady him. He turned Tommy to face him. He needed him calm if they were ever going to find her.

“Tom, we don’t even know who they are?”

Tommy fought back, pushing his brother away as he also pushed down the tears that threatened to spill forth.

“Is she alive?” He finally asked, looking his brother in the eye--imploring, begging him to give an affirmative answer.

“There’s a lot of blood," Arthur said with a deep sigh. "I don't know, brother."

He tried to push past Arthur again. A lot of blood.

But his brother was able to stop him, forcing him into a hug until he calmed again.

“Who? Who knew, Tom?” He asked.

“It doesn't make sense,” Tommy said quietly, wracking his brain for where it’d gone wrong. “Doesn't make fucking sense.”

Tommy paced the floor rubbing his hands over his face. He knew the problem with determining what happened was the overwhelming number of suspects. He'd found himself with more enemies than he'd ever faced at once. And he was certain they all knew about Sophie, about their past.

But who knew about the plans at the rally?

“Who?” he asked, as he felt his chest tighten. “Who?” He kicked the chair by the dressing table. “Who?!” His voice rose in a frenzy. “The Chinese, the Italians the Branch, Intelligence, McCavern, Mosley?!” He shouted. “Mosley knew nothing! He knew nothing!”

He sat in the chair Arthur propped back up and hung his head in his hands.

“WHO?!” he screamed, frantic now. The word reverberated in his mind.

Who. Who. Who.

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to find himself standing in the driveway outside Arrow House.

“You're fucking scaring me,” Arthur said.

But his voice sounded like a distant echo, and Tommy wouldn't let it settle in his mind.

“What are you doing? Talk to me.”

“Maybe I've found him, Arthur. The man I can't defeat,” Tommy said, turning to look at the field beside the house.

“Mosley?”

“I don't fucking know. Doesn't make sense,” he said, eyes still trained on the field. It was covered by a thick cloud of fog, but he could sense something there. And whatever it was demanded his attention.

“Let's… let's go inside,” Arthur said unsteadily. “We'll work it out. Have a drink.”

But it kept calling for him.

Sophie.

“I need to walk,” Tommy said, not once looking at his brother--just walking determinedly toward the field.

______________________

The fog was thick and Tommy could barely see in front of him. But the sound of his own breathing and the dirt crunching beneath his feet sent him forward without direction.

“Tommy.”

He heard Sophie’s voice and spun around to find her. But he couldn’t see her through the fog.

“Soph?” He yelled.

She heard him again, but this time from a different direction.

Over and over she said his name as he spun around in the mud, hoping desperately that he’d find her, but knowing that he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He was tired. He was afraid. And he knew she was gone.

Tommy took the gun from his shoulder holster and pressed it to his temple.

He screamed.

_______________________

Sophie woke suddenly and with a start. She looked about the room frantically for the gun she was certain she’d just heard fire. The room was empty and everything appeared to be peaceful.

Perhaps it was another dream.

The room was just as stark, just as clean, as it had been when they wheeled her in some hours before. She could hear the ticking of a clock, but couldn't find it on the walls and had no sense of time. Had it been hours? Days?

She lay back down and closed her eyes. All she could hope at this point was that Tommy would find her--that he’d made it out safely and would come for her as well.

The doctor had made it clear they wouldn't release her without someone there to care for her.

"You're a risk to yourself," he said, holding up the shell of the capsule he'd pulled from her mouth.

She closed her eyes, hoping to find sleep as lying awake had proven to be too difficult. The uncertainty wouldn't let her settle.

Just as she began to nod off, she heard his voice.

It was Tommy.

“Sophie,” he said, as if trying to wake her. But her eyes were suddenly too heavy to open.

“Sophie, come with me, love. We can rest. It's over.”

Sophie let out a deep sigh and finally let go.

_________________

As always, folks, comments and feedback warmly welcome!

Tag list: @justanothershelby @evelynshelby @l0tsofpennies @sympathyfortheblinderdevil @actuallyazriel @huntersvibe @porcelainjokersmadness@julietswildchild @geeksareunique @brianaisasongbird​ @ilycosimo​ @roolin-wxzlib​ @tmmshlb

[hazelnmae]

lethe.

[hazelnmae]

A decade of Cillian Murphy on stage and screen (insp)

[hazelnmae]

may 2020 bring healing. may 2020 bring peace. may 2020 bring kindness.

[hazelnmae]

He makes me feel all squishy inside !

[hazelnmae]

[hazelnmae]

[hazelnmae]

“Some nights it was you who stopped my heart from breaking. No one else.”

[hazelnmae]

Ahhh!! This is so lovely!!! ❤❤❤

Waiting for Santa (A Christmas Eve special)

“I’m not going to bed.” How many times had Charlie declared that within the last hour? Tommy had long lost track. At this point, he was on his wit’s end with the boy. No matter how he tried to explain the idea of Santa to his son, Charlie persisted in declaring he was not going to bed and that he would wait up for Santa. It had been cute the first time as Thomas helped Charlie into his fleece pajamas with snowflakes on them. It had been amusing when Charlie had announced it while he had brushed his teeth. After Tommy had finished reading to Charlie though, that was when things began to go downhill for it seemed that the boy was intending to stay awake.

Keep reading

[hazelnmae]

Such an awesome holiday gift for this awesome fandom!! This is beautiful!! ❤❤

Miracles (Tommy Shelby x OC one shot)

Ok, so I’m really not completely happy with this but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. 

I just want to wish you all a lovely Christmas (or whatever you celebrate!) and lots of love!!! 

Taglist: @hazelnmae​ @justanothershelby​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @captainsbestgal​ @emilymarie0422​ @biba3434​ @tv-obssessions​ @l0tsofpennies​ @miidailyinspiration​ @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​

Tommy growled, slamming down the phone with a bang. It was Christmas Eve and the snow had fallen suddenly, coating almost the entire country in a thick, white blanket. It was like a scene from a Christmas card; beautiful to look at and admire, but extremely inconvenient in real day to day life. Tommy had come to Liverpool for a midday meeting this morning but was now seemingly stuck there for the foreseeable future. There were no trains, no buses and the roads were too poor to travel long distances; not unless one had a death wish. Which Tommy Shelby most definitely did not. He hadn’t survived France, Billy Kimber and the likes of Solomons and Sabini only to be killed by the weather.

He’d phoned Polly to inform her that he wouldn’t be home for Christmas and likely not for Boxing Day either because the snow was still falling relentlessly. He wasn’t even that annoyed because it meant a great deal to him as such; it was more the fact of fact being stuck in a city he didn’t know all that well for at least the next two days. He had things to do in Birmingham and now he felt himself getting prickly and feeling like a trapped animal.

His meeting had taken place on the outskirts of the city centre where the standard of living was reminiscent of Small Heath, which in a strange way made Tommy feel more at home than the grand hotel he had managed to book himself into before his phone call to Polly. Pulling up the collar of his coat to fend off the biting wind, he put his head down and began walking to his car.

He heard the crying child before he saw them. He rounded the corner to see a little girl, no older than seven or eight, sprawled on the floor beside his car with blood pouring from her knee. The crimson red mingled with the virgin white of the snow and for a second his mind was back in a cold trenches of France. Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he crouched beside the little girl and smiled warmly.

“Are you alright, little one?” he asked.

“I fell over and hurt my leg and now I’ve smashed the eggs and Niamh is gonna be really upset with me and we won’t have anything to eat and it’s all my fault and I think my leg might fall off and then how will I go to work when I’m big…” she spewed out in one big babble, and Tommy noticed the box of smashed eggs next to her dainty little hand.

“Don’t worry about the eggs,” he reassured her, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe at the blood on her leg. No sooner had he wiped it though did more ooze out and he realised the cut looked fairly deep.

“But Niamh is gonna be really really mad,” her bottom lip trembled as he held the napkin on the cut.

“Who’s Niamh? And why would she be mad?”

“She’s my big sister. She’s not big cos she’s tall though, she’s big cos she’s twenty two and I’m only seven,” the little girl explained. “She sent me out to get eggs for dinner, and she couldn’t go because the baby has got a cough and it’s too cold for him to come out. But now I’ve broken the eggs and we won’t be able to buy any more cos we don’t have very many money cos my mummy went to heaven when she had my baby brother, and my dad ran off with the skank from the betting shop. That’s what Niamh says anyway.”

Tommy’s lips twitched as the little girl innocently regaled him with what sounded like her entire life story.

“So Niamh is your big sister,” he said. “And what is your name?”

“I can’t tell you,” she pulled a face. “Niamh says I’m not allowed to talk to strangers and tell them my name.”

“That’s very good advice,” Tommy smirked. “But if I tell you my name then I won’t be a stranger any longer, will I?”

“I suppose not,” she eyed him warily.

“Thomas Shelby,” he smiled, holding out his hand for her to shake. “Now will you tell me your name?”

“Sarah Jones,” she shook his hand back with a beaming grin.

“Do you live near?” he questioned.

“Up that street,” she pointed to a little side street across the road.

“Alright then, Sarah Jones,” Tommy nodded, scooping her up and holding her with one arm underneath her legs and the other around her middle. “Let’s get you home.”

“You talk funny,” Sarah commented as they walked up the snowy street.

“That’s because I’m from Birmingham,” he explained.

“Is that far?”

“Quite far,” he nodded. “It takes a good few hours by car.”

“You have a car?” her hazel eyes widened in awe.

“Yes,” he smirked. “It was my car that you had fallen over next to.”

“Oh that’s a very pretty car, Mr Thomas,” she commented. “I like cars. I’ve never been in one before.”

“Never?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “We don’t have a car and I don’t know anyone who does. Well, Mrs Dowes at the end of our road has a son who got to ride in a police car the other day, so he was quite lucky I think.”

“Well, perhaps before I go back to Birmingham, you can have a ride in my car, eh?” Tommy suggested. “If you’d like that?”

He wasn’t exactly sure why he had made such an offer, but there was something sweetly endearing about the little girl.

“Really?” she clapped in glee. “But wait. Tomorrow is Christmas which means you’ll be going back to Birginham won’t you?”

“I was supposed to be,” Tommy grinned, amused by her attempt at pronouncing his home city. “But I can’t get home because of all this snow. Still, at least Father Christmas will have plenty of places to land his sleigh when he drops all your presents off, won’t he?”

“He’s not coming to our house this year,” she looked down solemnly, her little bottom lip wobbling again. “Cos did you know grown ups have to give Father Christmas money to make the toys?”

“I did know that, yes,” he nodded.

“Well that’s why he can’t come to us this year,” she explained. “Cos the man who we pay to live in our house is a mean ugly monster. I was sat at the top of the stairs last week when I was supposed to be sleeping and he pushed Niamh against the wall. He kissed her but she smacked him in the face, and then he took all of our Christmas money from the special biscuit tin that doesn’t really have biscuits in.”

“I see,” Tommy answered impassively, although inside he felt pity for the little girl.

No child should go without at Christmas. He himself remembered the year that he had awoken along with Arthur, John and Ada, running down the stairs excitedly to see what had been left in their stocking, but what they found had been no cause for celebration. Their mother was downstairs crying, sweeping up what looked to be chopped up pieces of fabric and wool. Her tears splattered pitifully as she sobbed upon seeing her children’s bewildered faces.

“I’m sorry, my little cherubs,” she had whispered. “Father Christmas’ reindeers got too tired and had to turn back for home. But they’ll bring you your gifts in a day or two, don’t you worry.”

It was only once they were grown that Polly had told them the truth of that day. Their father, the drunken excuse of a man that he was, had come home from the pub in his usual foul mood, having spent all of his money on whores and drink. Their mother hadn’t been able to buy them much that year, but she had knitted them each a little teddy bear with clothes in their favourite colours and saved them a shiny penny each.

But their father in his drunken temper had decided that hitting his wife wasn’t enough of a torture and instead turned his anger upon his young children sleeping upstairs, dreaming of a man in a red suit. He had stolen the pennies from their stockings and then with a sneer had cut up the little bears that his wife had spent months making each night when the children were in bed. All that had been left was a pile of destruction and heartbreak on the wooden floor.

Tommy had never forgotten the disappointment he’d felt that morning. His elation and anticipation had turned into sadness, yet he had never showed that to his mother. None of them had, because they didn’t want her to cry even more. She cried enough and it pained their little hearts to see it.

Sure enough, a few days later they awoke to each find a brand new toy on the end of their beds; toy cars for the boys and a little doll for Ada. But their greatest present was seeing their mother smile again as she watched them play happily with their new toys.

“This is my house,” Sarah spoke suddenly, pointing to a small house nestled amongst tens of other identical grey brick houses. It looked clean and presentable enough from the outside; the windows and the net curtains that hung at them were spotless.

With a nod, Tommy stopped and rapped sharply on the door. A young woman answered and Tommy found himself wondering how someone so beautiful could possibly belong in a place such as this. Her blonde hair was shiny and thick and framed her heart shaped face, huge brown eyes and full lips. She was the epitome of light in a place that looked to be forged upon darkness and drudgery.

“Sarah!” she gasped. “What’s happened? Are you alright? Oh God, come in out of the cold, quick.”

“I’m ok, Niamh,” Sarah assured her. “I fell over and smashed all the eggs but Mr Thomas helped me home and did you know he said I can have a ride in his car because he’s not going home to Birginham for Christmas and is going to be here all alone.”

“What have I told you about taking a pause in between sentences?” Niamh patted her sister’s face affectionately, motioning for Tommy to set her down at the kitchen table.

Tommy glanced around the sparsely furnished house, noticing that in shape and design it was almost identical to Watery Lane. Aside from that though, the two homes couldn’t have been more different. Watery Lane was full of little homely touches; patterned china that had been passed down from Tommy’s grandmother to Polly and one day would go to Ada; photographs of the family; little ornaments and trinkets of sentimental value. Aside from a table and chairs and an old threadbare couch, there was nothing much in this home that said people even lived there. Yet despite the sparseness of the place, there was a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the pathetic fire that was half lit and exuding only an ounce of heat throughout the draughty building.

Peering at her sister’s bleeding leg with a frown, Niamh turned to fill up a bowl with some hot water. “How did you manage to do that, Sarah sausage? Trip over your own feet again?”

“It was the snow, Niamh,” Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced as Niamh began cleaning her leg. “It was slippery and I just fell. Are you mad about the eggs?”

“No love,” Niamh pinched Sarah’s nose and smiled. “All I care about is that you’re ok. You’re worth more than any number of eggs.”

“Even one hundred?” Sarah giggled.

“More than a thousand even,” Niamh grinned.

“Did you hear that Mr Thomas?” Sarah asked Tommy, and Niamh looked up suddenly with her mouth parted having momentarily forgotten about their guest.

“Oh you must think I’m so rude,” she apologised, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist and then holding one out. “Niamh Jones; nice to meet you. And thank you so much for helping my little Sarah.”

“Thomas Shelby,” Tommy smiled, shaking her hand back and ignoring the way his heart seemed to suddenly pound when their skin touched. “It was no trouble at all.”

“Can I get you a drink? Something warm to say thank you before you go back out into the cold?”

“Oh, I’m alright, thank you,” Tommy shook his head. “I should probably get going anyway. I need to get into the city centre while I can. Hopefully my car isn’t stuck in the snow out there.”

“Hopefully not,” Niamh grinned. “Otherwise you’ll have to walk, and they don’t look like particularly good shoes for walking in snow.”

Tommy found himself smiling at her easy going manner, and when his gaze fell upon Sarah’s pleading eyes he knew he wasn’t going anywhere for the time being.

What Tommy hadn’t expected was for two hours to have passed and he still to have not

ventured outside of the little two bedroomed house. Sarah was rather enamoured with her new friend and had bombarded him with an endless list of questions, while ten-month old baby, Peter had sat on the stranger’s knee and chewed his fingers.

Niamh had found it rather odd that a man so well put together and seemingly well off was so comfortable in a grotty little house with two small children all over him. But as the time had worn on and they had spoken a little, she realised that Thomas Shelby was nothing like his appearance suggested. He was down to earth and witty, and he didn’t behave as though children were pests; instead he welcomed their company.

He had enquired politely about their family life and had listened to the answers laced with faux happiness that Niamh had given. Around here, most families were in a similar situation financially so they understood the hardships she faced in trying to raise her two siblings alone, but for some reason she didn’t want him to look down upon her or her family.

If she could see inside Tommy’s head, she would have been surprised to find that the only thoughts whirling around were that the woman before him was strong and brave, and full of so much love for her brother and sister that they were rich in a way that money could never make them.

“I should really be going,” Tommy stood eventually, passing the now sleeping baby into Niamh’s waiting arms. “Thank you for the tea.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr Shelby,” Niamh smiled warmly. “Thank you again for helping Sarah. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You be careful now, eh?” Tommy crouched down and pinched the little girl’s nose. “No more falling over or maybe next time you really might lose your leg to gangrene.”

Sarah giggled at his teasing, drawing yet another smile from him.

“Can I still have a ride in your car?” she asked.

“Sarah, that’s awfully rude,” Niamh admonished. “Sorry Mr Shelby. Apparently along with damaging her leg, my sister appears to have forgotten her manners.”

“Well, I did offer,” Tommy scruffed Sarah’s hair affectionately. “I promise that as soon as the snow clears a little, you can have a ride yeah?”

“And you promise you won’t leave before I can have a go?”

“I promise,” Tommy nodded curtly.

“Hmm,” the little girl narrowed her eyes unsurely. “Pinkie promise?”

“Pardon?”

“Pinkie promise,” she repeated, holding out her left hand so that her pinkie finger was sticking out towards him. With a smirk, Tommy held out his own they shook them momentarily.

Niamh smiled watching the two of them. There was something utterly charming about the way he was so sweet with her sister. She knew the little girl missed their father and needed a strong male figure in her life, but sadly, Niamh didn’t have one to offer.

“Sarah, will you go and put Peter into bed?” Niamh asked, passing the baby over gently.

“Ok,” Sarah nodded, grinning at Tommy once more. “Goodbye Mr Thomas.”

“I think you’ve found a friend,” Niamh smirked, walking Tommy to the door. “I hope your ears aren’t ringing too much from all of her chatter.”

“No,” Tommy shook his head and smiled. “I’ve enjoyed myself truly. She’s a sweet girl, and it was certainly better than sitting alone in a hotel room, feeling trapped like a chicken in a coop.”

“You must be sad not to be with your family for Christmas?”

“A little,” he admitted with a shrug. “But knowing my family the way I do, it’ll only end up in an argument over Christmas dinner and someone getting drunk, which will then lead to more arguments anyway.”

“Isn’t that most families at Christmas?” Niamh chuckled, wishing with all of her heart it would be her family. At least when her mother and father were here, they didn’t have much but they always had each other, and Christmas was full of fun and laughter. “We aren’t really celebrating this year because… well it doesn’t really matter why, but we would still like it if you would perhaps consider spending the day with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tommy murmured even though he knew that was a downright lie.

“Please,” Niamh tried again. “I’m sure it won’t be anything like what you’re used to but I know Sarah would love to see you again, and I’d hate to think of anyone being alone for Christmas.”

“Alright,” Tommy nodded, trying to hide the smile threatening to break out upon his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr Shelby.”

“Tommy,” he did smile then. “It’s Tommy.”

“See you tomorrow then, Tommy.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Niamh was sat up in bed watching little Peter as he sucked his thumb in his sleep. Silent tears poured down her face as she counted the meagre few coins in her purse. Sarah and Peter deserved more from life than she could give them. She had love for them in abundance but that didn’t feed them and clothe them, did it? Love didn’t replace all the things she couldn’t provide them with.

A gentle rap at the door broke her from her sombre thoughts and with a frown, she wrapped her thin blanket around her shoulders and crept down the stairs quietly so as not to wake the children. She had no idea who could be knocking at this time of night, and she felt a strange gnawing when she thought it could perhaps be her scummy landlord. But there was no point in ignoring him because he would only create a scene which would wake Sarah and Peter, as well as attract attention from the neighbours.

“Tommy?” she furrowed her brow, unable to contain her surprise when she saw him stood on her doorstep.

He smiled that handsome smile she had noticed earlier in the day, and her legs suddenly felt like jelly.

“Can I help you?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“You can help me bring these inside,” he motioned to three wooden crates on the floor.

“What on earth is all of this?” Niamh questioned, picking up one of the crates while Tommy picked up the other two.

“This…” he answered, dumping the crates gently onto the kitchen table and pulling off his gloves. “…Is for you.”

“Come again?”

“This is for you and the children,” he explained, looking a little sheepish as he began pulling things out of the crates. “I hope you won’t be offended but when I was carrying Sarah back here, she mentioned that Father Christmas wasn’t coming to visit this year, and of course I noticed the lack of decorations in here before. Then you mentioned that you weren’t celebrating Christmas and well, I didn’t think I could let that happen.”

“Things have been… difficult,” Niamh swallowed the giant lump in her throat at knowing that her sister had told a complete stranger about their financial troubles.

“From what I can see you’re doing the best you can,” Tommy looked at her sadly. “But sometimes our best isn’t good enough no matter how hard we try, is it?”

“No,” she whispered, a lone tear dripping onto the floor. She refused to crumble in front of a man she didn’t know, but there was just something about the way he was looking at her that made her want to break down and let him catch her.

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been where you are now,” he spoke truthfully. “My family grew up with nothing and I know what it’s like to watch your brothers and sisters cry because they’re hungry, or because they didn’t get anything for Christmas. My mum always did her best for us, but due to circumstances out of her control sometimes her best just wasn’t enough. Which is why I wanted to help you out. There’s decorations here and some presents for the little ones. I didn’t manage to get a goose at short notice and in the middle of a snow storm but I’ve got you a nice piece of beef and all the trimmings.”

“I can’t accept all of this,” Niamh shook her head, looking at all of the stuff in awe. “We’re not a charity case, Mr Shelby.”

“I never implied that you were,” Tommy sighed. “I just… look, I’m not good with words and all that sort of stuff, but I just wanted to do something nice for you; for all of you. If you won’t let me do it to help you out, then at least let me do it for those kids upstairs. They deserve to believe in the magic of Christmas, because one day they’ll be old like us and that magical glass will be shattered forever.”

Niamh was torn because she could see the truth in this crystal clear blue eyes, and she knew he was only trying to do something nice.

“Speak for yourself about being old,” she said eventually, her eyes twinkling playfully.

And just like that, the tension was broken. Tommy eagerly showed Niamh everything he had purchased and she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

Over the next hour, they decorated the house together with tinsel and garlands, and made paper chains together out of coloured paper. Tommy climbed up on a chair to secure them to the ceiling while Niamh wrapped the presents for Sarah and Peter.

“Sarah’s going to lose her mind when she sees all of this,” Niamh commented sitting back on the couch when they were done, looking at their handiwork. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

“No thanks are necessary,” Tommy waved her off, taking a drag of his cigarette before handing it to her. She took it gratefully and passed him back the bottle of whisky they had been working their way through together.

“I think they are,” she turned and looked at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The the fire was now roaring and the house was warm. Niamh had been unable to let their guest sit in the freezing cold so she had used some of their precious wood from the shed to heat the house thoroughly. She couldn’t say she was exactly opposed to the warmth either if she was being honest.

She took a drag of the cigarette and went to hand it back to Tommy, but he shook his head and pulled another one of his pocket and lit it. His head rested against the back of the sofa and he looked up at the red and green paper chains above them.

“There is one thing you can do to thank me,” he said suddenly, jumping up from the sofa and holding his hand out. “You can dance with me.”

“What?” she snorted. “There’s no music and it’s the middle of the night. I’m in a nightdress for god’s sakes.”

“So?” Tommy shrugged, his eyes twinkling as they bored into hers. He was feeling the merry effects of the alcohol coursing through his system, and he realised that this last hour spent with her, chattering mindlessly about their upbringings and life had been one of the best hours he’d had in a long time. “And we don’t need music. We can pretend there’s some or if you really need me to, I’ll just hum a little tune.”

A little bit tipsy from the whisky, Niamh threw back her head and giggled, allowing Tommy to pull her up to her feet. His arms around her were warm and his palm against the small of her back burned through the thin material of her nightgown. They swayed from side to side to an imaginary song as their eyes said all the things they both wanted to say but didn’t. How could they? They were essentially strangers; they had no right to feel anything more than a friendly acquaintance, yet both felt the pull of something more.

Tommy’s hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone as his eyes ate up her own. His lips touched hers in a butterfly of a kiss that left them both craving more. He inhaled her mewl of pleasure as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and acquainted itself with hers. He pulled her closer so their bodies were pressed up against one another with no gap whatsoever.

They broke apart with a timid smile as baby Peter began to wail from upstairs. Niamh didn’t know what to say or how to react to the unexpected kiss they’d just shared, and so she was grateful for the excuse to leave him for a minute and compose herself.

When she returned a few minutes later, Tommy was waiting for her on the couch. She sat down beside him, leaning into his warmth. He stroked her hair as they watched the flickering flames of the fire dancing. They were both asleep before they knew it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Niamh! Mr Thomas!” Sarah’s voice squealed as her little hands shook them both awake. “He’s been! He’s been! Father Christmas has really been!”

“What time is it?” Niamh croaked, cracking open an eyelid to be greeted with her sister’s elated face.

“Six,” Tommy murmured from beside her. She sat up with a start, having forgotten the night before until she heard him speak.

Tommy looked at her with smiling eyes, and Niamh bit her lip to stop herself from crying when she saw Sarah tearing her presents open eagerly. Tommy took her hand and squeezed it, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her hand in a soothing motion.

“Niamh! Look I got a new dolly,” Sarah yelled and clutched the doll to her chest with a beaming smile. “Can you believe he came?”

“No,” she whispered, her bottom lip wobbling.

She couldn’t believe this had really happened, even though she had been part of creating it only hours before. Yesterday, her life had been full of despair and cold. Yet now, despite the heavy snow still falling outside, she felt as though there was warmth and hope to be had once again.

Perhaps at Christmas time, miracles really did happen.