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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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Do As You Please - 5

You weren’t as use to Thomas as you had thought. His small gestures of grazing your back, or slipping his finger into yours, gave your nerves an edge. No one treated you this way. Especially strangers. Strangers didn’t treat you this way.

Inside the Garrison, John and Arthur sat in a booth discussing something intimate. Their expressions were intense, but you couldn’t make out their words. There was a man seated between them. “That’s my cousin, Michael,” Thomas whispered holding the door open.

“There’s a whole lot of you? Yeah?” You questioned with a disbelieving laugh. He could only shrug in response. “There’s two more you haven’t met, yet.” He paused. “Actually three, if you include my aunt,” Your eyes went wide. That’s a lot of mouths to feed. Where did they keep them all? You pictured him as a big brother to many. Maybe even a little brother. You never learned the specifics.

You knew what it was like to barely afford candles. You couldn’t figure out how his family could feed 7, including himself. You wanted to believe he was born into wealth, but his mannerisms gave it away. He must have been self-made. Either that, or inheritance from a distant relative who he never got to meet.

For a moment, his words slipped your mind. ‘That you haven’t met, yet.’ Did he want you to take your rounds through the Shelby lineage? Not that it’d be something you were against, he was just a lot to handle by himself. The same went for his hardy group of brothers. “James will teach you how to pour drinks,” He gestured behind the bar. “He’ll tell you who has open tabs, and you’ll be under his wing for a while,” The man behind the bar nodded to his words.

This was much to take in. How would Alfie feel about you working in a bar? Dealing with drunk men? You shook the thought from your mind. You’d deal with it when necessary. “If you have any problems, let me know,” He touched the back of your arm. His sternness made you comfortable. You knew he’d handle whatever it was that came your way. You didn’t like having to rely on people, but he seemed stable enough for the task. “Yeah,” the words barely made a noise coming out.

He gave you a small smile before nodding you off to go behind the bar. He slid into the booth, and accompanied his relatives. You looked up at the beams. All wood, nice trimming. No one would ever see that, considering how fucking dim the place was.

This was a place where alcoholics came to cry. Not spend their money and enjoy themselves. That became apparent to you. You moved behind the bar and pushed your sleeves back up as they slipped past your elbows. “Ever worked in a bar?” James questioned. You could only think about your drunken stupor from a few nights prior. How embarrassing.

“I use to make drinks for my dad and his friends,” You spoke coyly. “Well consider it basically the same,” He politely smiled. “We don’t have a big list of drinks. We aren’t like the pubs down in London, with their garnishes and what not,” he insinuated. Obviously this place wasn’t like a pub in London. Your father had taken you downtown for a birthday, and you were able to witness the chandeliers and red glows from within the vicinity.

This place was a wreck in comparison, but surely some work and a set of new eyes would do it good. “No worries,” you nodded along. You gazed around. The wall paper was peeling. Paint was chipping from the bar, and some of the booths had tears.

The smell of puke wasn’t as pungent, since there wasn’t many people to hurl their guts out. Then again, the scent of tobacco covered it up, as it drifted throughout the room. James went through procedure for cleaning mugs, and wiping down the bar. None of this seemed as bad as the tailor shop. “Mr. Shelby takes a quarter of the tips,” he remarked. “So don’t hide anything from him cause’ he’ll know.” His tone made it seem like this was a previous altercation he took part in.

Your eyebrows furrowed. Taking tips? You looked over your shoulder. Thomas was in the booth smoking a cigarette. His conversation seemed fascinating, by how focused he was on Johns words. He still managed to momentarily look at you and catch your eyes. It made you could and you averted your eyes. You turned to face James once more.

“What a dick,” you remarked. James pursed his lips. He was trying to not show that he agreed with you, but it was apparent. “Your words, not mine,” he laughed. “I’m not sure if the whole share of tips works with me,” you mumbled shaking your head. James could only nod in unison. You decided to take a stab at cleaning mugs. Wasn’t as difficult as he had made it seem, but it was certainly gross.

As time went on, more people came into the bar. “That’s her?” Michael leaned to Tommy. “The one who spilled her drink?” You were a tall tale within the Blinders household, you just weren’t aware of it. “Aye,” Thomas said watching you keep up with traffic from behind the bar. “She’s a looker, hm?” Michael said keeping his eyes on you. “Pain in the ass too,” Tom said with a daring glance.

You always kept your eyes on the door. A habit instilled by your father. A tall slender woman walked in, and attention was drawn towards her. You couldn’t help but eye her sleek frame. She didn’t seem fit for a place like this. Then again, you didn’t either. You looked back to your patrons sitting in front of you. James let you pour your own drinks. It wasn’t a difficult job considering there were about four things the bar would serve.

When you looked back up, you saw her scoot in to sit next to Thomas. Was that his Aunt? You looked over, a little too intently. His arm draped behind her and she pressed a more-than-passionate kiss to his cheek. Aunts don’t do that.

You felt uneasy, but brushed it off. His cousin Michael walked up to the bar. “I’d like a mug please,” his accent differed from the rest. “Sure thing,” you said filling up a glass for him. God knew how dirty the drafts were. Your eyes went back to Tommy’s booth. The woman had her hand on his thigh, but no one else could see that. Her hand was moving, rubbing his inner leg. You narrowed your eyes in disbelief.

“You’re prettier than what my cousin described you as,” Michael pulled your thoughts away. You blinked not understanding what he was getting at, “Oh, thank you..” What else did you have to respond with? You slid him his mug. You figured enough that he drank for free, yet he still slid you money over the bar. “That’s for you, not the register.” He winked.

He was dressed sharply, and appeared closer to your age. He had an average, yet attractive face. His eyes were intense like the rest. “Thank you,” you spoke once more, tucking the cash into a pocket on your dress.

“I’m Michael,” God dammit he was getting too comfortable. “Y/N,” You hummed, cleaning a glass. You had to look at Tommy again. Sure as hell, there she was. Hands all over him, and he allowed it. Michael must’ve noticed. He saw the decrease in your productivity. “I’ve heard many things about you,” he said trying to divert your attention. “Yeah? Like what?” You shook your head.

“Heard you got a mouth like a sailor,” he smiled. “Apparently you give Tom a lotta’ shit.” The grin never left. He was more charming than the rest. “I suppose I do,” a small huff left your lips. You knew you were a handful at times, but not once did you ask for Thomas’ charity. He pushed it on you.

He was daft. Holding your hand in the streets, taking care of the head seamstress, the constant walks too and from your home. Were you in over your head? Obviously you assumed he had taken a liking towards you. Apparently you were wrong. “Don’t be so grim Y/N,” Your name rolled softly off his tongue. You didn’t have time to be charmed by every member of this family.

“You’re too real for a man like Thomas,” he said looking over his shoulder and back to you. He sipped his mug. “What are you getting at?” You set down the glass you were cleaning. He struck a nerve. “I see how you’re looking at him, how you’re looking at Lizzie,” He spoke lowly. “Don’t think too highly of him,” You were surprised to hear his own blood speak of him this way.

You didn’t know much about either of them, but Michael was being brutally honest. “I don’t think highly of him,” Yes you did “And he could fuck whoever he wants.” You felt your eyes roll from your own words.

Michael shrugged. “I mean, who wouldn’t fuck their own wife.” His statement floated in front of your face. You couldn’t help but laugh. You looked to Thomas. A ring glistened on Lizzie’s finger. His arm remained draped over her shoulder. Your eyes caught his, and he let a small smirk pass. You looked away.

He was married. The bastard was married.

Anyone would be upset, or distraught in a situation like this. Bothered, to say the least. But you kept it down. Held it in. At least you knew about this sooner, rather than later. “Whatever my boss does with his wife, my boss does with his wife.” You retorted. Michael felt the heat coming off of you. Your enunciation of the word wife made it all too obvious. He saw the red of your ears and knew you’d lean more towards him than you would to Thomas.

He was manipulative. He told people what they wanted to hear, in order to get what he desired most. It was a trait he genetically learned from his mother. You didn’t get to see Thomas remove Lizzie’s hand from his leg, and you also didn’t pay attention to when he slid away from her.

James walked back and forth from behind the bar. Giving rounds of drinks to those seated in the booths and at the tables. He slid behind you to refill glasses. “Like I said Y/N,” You looked up so he could have your attention. You wanted to leave. Start your shift over in the morning. “You’re too real of a prize for a man like Tommy to handle,” His gaze draped down your figure. “Don’t limit yourself to just him,” This was too much for you. “How about I limit myself to nobody? Hm?” You pushed with a false smile.

Who did he think he was? Dropping a bomb like that just so he could glue your pieces together. He wanted you for himself. You wouldn’t take any part of it. He picked up his mug, “That’d be a shame love, I know many men including myself don’t get to stare at a beauty such as yours,” Now you wanted to swing.

“Many men including yourself?” He didn’t seem to be a man. More-so a boy playing dress up in his fathers clothes. “I’m not the only woman in Birmingham who doesn’t take shit from people, so look harder. Maybe you’ll find one for yourself that isn’t me.” You had to remove yourself from his end of the bar. You didn’t want your tongue to get you in trouble.

The nerve of these men. You’ve never seen anything like it. Thomas watched the exchange from afar. He was able to see the disdain on Michael’s face as you walked away. That a girl.

Michael regrouped himself. Now he knew first hand what it was like to be in your line of spite. No one has handed him his ass like that in awhile. Women didn’t usually reject him. Thomas and Arthur had told him before that you had no knowledge of their history. Michael walked back to the booth. It would be a shame if he was the one to inform you.

The night went by faster than expected. You helped James put chairs on top of the bar. You swept the dirt from beneath the counter. Lizzie left hours prior. So did John and Arthur. Michael and Thomas stayed in their section. Talking away, and drinking their own supply.

You knew why the place was so grimy. James did a shit job at cleaning. “Here, give me that,” you said taking the mop from him. You washed the old floor, noticing the amount of muck that surfaced in the bucket. He’s married. How long has he been married? Any children? You were sick. Did she know he was this way? He kept popping up in your brain. Didn’t help he was six-feet away from you, either.

Michael watched you mop. Confidence ran through his blood, just like the whiskey. Smoke rolled out from his lips. James walked over to their table and laid his tip money out. You stopped to peer over. You four were the only ones in the bar.

Thomas sorted through it, half cigarette pressed between his lips. He tucked some money into his suit pocket, and gave the rest back to James. “I wanna see the books tomorrow evening.” James nodded in response. “Make sure we’re not being stiffed,” Thomas sighed. You finished your mediocre job of mopping, and set everything back in place.

Your back was killing you. Did he expect you to put your money down on the table? James looked at you, suggesting you do the same. “You can leave James,” Thomas politely dismissed. “Goodnight Mr. Shelby,” he said leaving through the doors.

“I’m sure James told you about-” “About my money, yes. He did,” You said with more of an attitude than usual. You took your money out of your dress and handed it to him. You didn’t want to put up a fight. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?” Thomas lowly threatened with authority. “No.” You bit your lip and looked at the floor. Asshole. Bastard.

“Hold up that pretty face of yours,” Michael remarked. “Hate to see ya’ look so glum,” You shook your head. Don’t respond. Thomas handed you back your money. He disregarded his cousins remark. You didn’t care if it was a rude gesture or not, you counted your money in front of him.

“You took more than twenty five percent,” You met his eyes. “I’ll take however much I want,” he quipped instantly. His expression was daring. He wanted you to snap back at him. He wanted you to give his cousin a show of the renounced mouth you have to display. Michael watched the interaction with amusement. This bar brought out the worst in you. Whether you were drunk, or not.

“I understand, probably have to buy your wife another flashy dress-” Oh you’ve fuckin’ done it now. “Excuse me?” Thomas tilted his head. He looked over to Michael. He was the only one who spoke to you during your shift. Thomas was sure of it. His eyes never left you for long. Michael was the one who spoke about his marriage. “Nothing,” You knew you fucked up.

“No, if you can say it once, I’m sure you can say it again.” His voice dropped an octave and he threatened to stand up. You couldn’t read his expression. “I insinuated, that you would use the majority of my tip money,” you paused “to buy your wife elegant dresses.” Poor Alfie might get dragged out of the house to confirm your body. You dug your grave, now step in.

He laughed low and hard. “Hm.. I guess I will then.” You were in unsafe territory. You knew that. “What do you say Michael? Think’ Lizzie needs new dresses?” Now he was taunting you. All you could think of was the food Alfie had waiting for you at home. You didn’t want this. You didn’t need this.

Michael shrugged, “I think she has plenty.” He remarked. “Maybe spend the money on Y/N,” He suggested as if you weren’t there. Assholes. Both of them.

Thomas didn’t feel the need to clarify what his relationship with Lizzie was. They weren’t necessarily together, but by law they were married. You didn’t need to know that. He found it nice to see your annoyance over it. Showed that you cared. Showed that you had a jealous bone in your body. He watched your face and saw the hurt lying underneath it. He pursed his lips. “Here,” he spoke softly and handed you back the rest of your money. You took it, feeling his pity weigh on you. “I have my own money to buy my wife dresses. I don’t need yours.”

You couldn’t muster up a sentence. You were embarrassed, annoyed, and felt like a fool. You nodded with the anger still bubbling inside you. Let it go. “Can I go home now.” You said looking at the floor. He didn’t dismiss you so easily. He watched you stand there. Basking in embarrassment. His eyes moved over you. He hated the pang you put in his chest. “Yeah, I’ll take you home..” His voice spoke soothingly. “Arthur brought the car.” He stood up. You knew better to interject. You could feel the routine beginning to form. Michael rose up as well. You were all going to pack in.

Tommy escorted you out, with Michael close behind. You wanted to rip his hand from you, but you knew he was simply being a gentleman at this point. Or was he? Was he trying to taunt you? Push it more? Michael threw his cigarette to the floor. His foot aligned and put out the ember. “Not good to do that, birds will eat it,” you chastised Michael. He shook his head. “That’s their fuckin’ problem. Not mine.” So much for compassion.

Thomas opened your door. You wanted nothing to do with him. Michael went into the back seat. Alfie use to drive you around. He was the only person in your life with enough money to afford one. He’d take days off of work to drive around with you. He knew how much you loved it.

The drive to your house was quicker than the walk. You rubbed your jaw in anticipation of laying in your bed. He lead you on. He made you think you were enough for him. You wanted to get over it. You caught yourself looking at his side profile. A sick part of you wanted to kiss him. But the stronger part of you wanted to jump out of the moving car.

Thomas pulled in front of your house. You saw a light shining from the window. Alfie probably forgot to turn the bulb off. “Michael move to my seat,” Thomas said getting out of the car. Michael followed his orders and watched as Tommy opened the passenger door for you. “Goodnight Y/N,” Michael called out. It made you uneasy. “Goodnight Michael..” The drop from the car to the pavement was more than what you bargained. Thomas was there to help you out of the car.

His hands burned you wherever they landed. The small of your back, behind your arm, anywhere. He wanted you, but you knew he couldn’t have you. You both walked up to your doorstep. “I’d appreciate it if,” spit it out “If you didn’t lead me on.” You finished. Thomas watched you speak. Intrigue dancing across his face. He wasn’t going to argue, or fight. “I’m not leading you on,” His words cut the air.

Did you misread everything? Was he an overly friendly person? If you knew better, you’d understand that Thomas Shelby was nothing of the sorts. What he meant was, ‘I’m not leading you on, this is all real.’ Yet what you took it as, was ‘I don’t know what would give you the impression I feel that way.’

You swallowed the knot in your throat. Silence settled over the both of you. “Friends?” Your voice grew timid. You weren’t afraid of him, but you knew to not push it. He gave you one of his small, rare smiles. He never considered himself to have many friends. He only had family, and enemies. You were a nice mediator. “Friends,” he nodded with the word feeling foreign on his tongue.

You took a step back and unlocked your door. “Goodnight Tommy,” God he felt his heart bounce. You haven’t called him that before. He wanted to reach out and pulled you into him. Move his lips against yours and-

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back. He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 9, yeah?” He suggested as you opened your door. “Sure thing,” you nodded, assuming it was for work. Getting to the pub on time wouldn’t be a hassle. You were use to being at the tailor shop by 8.

“I’ll pick you up then,” he said turning on his heels to walk down your front-steps. “It’s a date,” He called out. The words smacked you as you shut the door.

Friends don’t go on dates. He wanted to change that. You felt a weight lifted from your shoulders. You rubbed your face with confusion, but more than anything, exhaustion. Alfie was asleep on the couch. A bowl of pasta on the floor. You didn’t get to eat dinner with him. You made your way inside of the house and peered as he snored. You grabbed the blanket draped off the end of the sofa, and pulled it over him. He was always a heavy sleeper.

What would you wear? What did he fucking want from you? You figured it best to just sleep this off. Put up with it in the morning. A small part of you didn’t want to give in to the notion that he felt something towards you. Yet, you couldn’t choke down the small amount of excitement emanating from your chest.

There was an inconvenience though. A bump in the road. It was a shame that Michael had other plans in mind for you. Obviously he didn’t want to see you waste away over Tommy. You have so much potential, so much charisma. Why would he watch Thomas ruin you, when instead, he could have you for himself?

This was only the beginning of your devious interactions with Michael Grey. The worst part of it all, was that he now knew, where you lived.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @amirahiddleston @kac-peakyblinders @urbansaint @parochialism @hereticpriest @eternallyvenus @csigeoblue @mortalflower @a-dorky-book-keeper @stressedandbandobessed7771 @patdsinner33 @1heartstillbeating1

#thomas shelby x reader #michael grey x reader #peaky blinder imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #John Shelby #Arthur Shelby #polly grey

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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Are you okay? X

I'm sorry I haven't been active recently. I have a lot going on in my personal life and its really affecting my motivation to do things. I'm going to try to start writing this week!

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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Honey, Baby, Sweetheart (Alfie Solomons Drabble)

Character/s: Alfie

Word Count: 621

Requested: @fangirlsarah16

Word Prompt/s: Affection, Relief, Doe-eyed

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: Sarah!!! My love oh thank you for requesting!!! I nearly cried of happiness because it is such a good request and I knew it would be so fluffy!!! I adore Alfie and have been meaning to write something for him! I had this idea immediately, but I’m just not sure how good I translated it from an idea to writing… I’m not super happy with the ending, but it’s so late, I didn’t want you to wait any longer!!! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

WANNA REQUEST A MINI FIC?

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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I’ll See You At The Finish Line - 2

AN: (This was suppose to be a oneshot lol, but everyone wanted a part 2! I hope I lived up to everyone’s expectations. As always, feedback is always fantastic.)

Timid hands, and nimble fingers. Your luggage was heavier than when you first enlisted with it. This wasn’t because you carried relics from your time at war. It was because your small frame, had simply gotten smaller.

You weren’t one for makeup, and you doubted that you ever would be. Rouge coated your cheeks. A clash against your pale, cold skin. It acted poorly to hide your under eyes. Hopefully the men wouldn’t notice, but you knew that Polly would.

They weren’t sure of when you’d be coming home. They knew it would be up to a month after the boys arrival. They waited anxiously. Checking the mail slot for any letters, waiting for an update of your departure to Small Heath.

You hung your head, almost as if embarrassed. You knew that Polly was besides herself with contempt of you leaving. Ada had told you so, through her letters. More often than not, you’d be too upset to respond. Your mind couldn’t conjure the boys reaction to your enlistment. Would they be proud? Supportive? Angry? Disappointed?

You stared down at the pavement. Turn the knob. Push yourself inside. You were practically a war hero right? They couldn’t stay mad forever. Your hands were sweating. The handle on your luggage was gaining ounces by the minute. Your heart was to your knees and you felt a knot in your throat. Don’t cry, don’t throw up, don’t pass out.

This was suppose to be a celebration. A reunion of family. It had been two years, and at the end of it all, they were everything you had. You were numb, but somehow feeling it all at the same time. You made it home. You were home now. You were safe. Your med-tent wasn’t being ambushed. Men weren’t dying at your hands.

Your eyes stitched shut. Hot tears threatening to spill out. Get it together. You’re home now, it’s okay, it’s fine.

Until it wasn’t.

It wouldn’t be okay if Arthur yelled in your face about how stupid you were to leave. If Polly broke down sobbing, saying she figured you dead. And Thomas. You wouldn’t be able to speak to him.

You had a glaze in your eyes. You’ve been through so much. So much pain, suffering, deprivation. Yet, this felt like one of the hardest things you’d have to do. Opening a fucking door? You started shaking your head. At any minute one of them could walk out. Catch you standing there like a deer in headlights.

What if you opened the door and none of them were inside? What if John perished in war? If Arthur couldn’t be found? Thomas, a prisoner of war? Your mind wouldn’t stop. Your hands began to shake. You set your bags down and rubbed at your cheeks. Deal with things when they happen. They could be fine.

Your breathing was shaky. Some would say erratic. Your hands moved to your neck and you pressed down. One... Two... Three. You looked absolutely insane. Panicking on a doorstep, in the slums of England. You weren’t calm, not in the slightest. Rip the fucking band-aid off. Get it done with. Heal faster.

The tremors in your hands made the doorknob feel like jello. Open the fucking door. Tears were welling up more-so than what you had expected. Tear off the band-aid. Don’t be weak, open the fucking door!

At first, no one had even noticed that you walked in. Bags still outside. Tears down your face, and weight lost on you. They hadn’t a clue that you welcomed yourself inside.

John and Polly were singing in the kitchen. Arthur tapped his hand on the table. The clank of his ring hitting the surface was on par with Johns awful singing. Thomas sat on the other side of Arthur, drinking straight from a bottle.

It was such a beautiful sight to see. You felt a tightness in your chest.

“Y/N?” Ada stopped in her tracks. She was coming downstairs when she saw you. You were whiter than the plates in the cabinet. Words were stuck in your throat. Your mouth was open to speak, but no noise came out.

The sound of your name made everyone turn. Tommy rose from his chair, expecting it to be a joke.

They were all alive. All home. All happy. That was, until you came in.

The disdain on Pollys face was obvious. Her eyes immediately welled up. She didn’t want to speak to you, but all she did was stare with disbelief. John was the first one to approach you. He ran out of the kitchen, practically picking you up. Ada ran downstairs to stand next to Polly.

You felt like you were run over by a carriage. He squeezed you tightly, and broke down before you could get the chance. “Fucks wrong with you?” His arms stayed wrapped. “Couldn’t stand to be away from us?” He questioned lightly with tears down his face. He still smelled like cigars.

Arthur approached you next. He stood with John and looked at you as if you were broken. You were. He was never good with words, especially ones meant for comfort. He stood to the side sheepishly. You were crying, and it wasn’t until John pulled away that you had noticed.

They lost weight. Scars on their neck. On their chin. Johns face wasn’t as red as usual, and Arthur wasn’t sporting his mustache. Their hair was cropped shorter than what you were use to.

“I know.. I’m sorry,” Your voice wavered but you mustered a smile. Arthur grabbed you. His hug wasn’t as tight as Johns, but he held you momentarily. He didn’t speak. Partially because he didn’t know what to say. His embrace said everything better than what he could. “Don’t be sorry,” John tried to comfort. He was more sympathetic than before.

They missed you. It’s not like they wouldn’t, but being so far away only made you fear the worst. Polly shook her head from the kitchen and left to go out-back. Your smile fell. Ada shot you an apologetic look, but you understood. She followed Pol into the yard.

Arthur stepped back from you. “You think what you did was okay?” Thomas snapped from the kitchen. He set down the near-emptied whiskey bottle. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

This was when one of your brothers would chime in, and defend you, but they didn’t. They knew Thomas was right, and they’d only jump in if he took it too far.

“Trailing behind us, aye?” He took slow steps towards you. “Playing soldier in the only way you could?” You hung your head, feeling shame for something you should be proud of. “A nurse Y/N, really?” He beckoned. His words cut you deep. At least Polly had the courtesy to walk away. Thomas was going to let his mouth run, and he’d be damned if you tried to stop that.

“Are you.. fucking MAD?” His tone raised. “Med-tents were being bombed left and right, THAT’S why they needed more nurses,” he was drunk. Upset. Broken. “You were too fucking stupid to figure that out.” He snickered. John looked at Tommy in disapproval of his words. “She deserves as much respect as we do Thomas,” John threatened.

Thomas looked to John, and all he did was raise a finger and point. He laughed momentarily. A thought of his own had amused him. He wasn’t being disrespectful, he was being logical. He decided against speaking, and didn’t comment further. His hand dropped and he turned back to you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” you quipped. “Well what if you weren’t! What then? What if I wasn’t here?” His temperament changed again. “What if John wasn’t here, Arthur wasn’t here!” He shouted. Emotions cracked his voice.

This wasn’t Tommy. This wasn’t your older brother who pushed you in the mud and helped you build forts in the living room. This wasn’t the man who slipped you your first shot after breaking in to Polly’s liquor cabinet. That Thomas was gone. The war changed him. Took something, and you weren’t sure if he’d get it back. He was a broken soldier. A tortured mind.

Underneath his eyes, the skin was purple. Surrounded by grey. He was as washed out as you were. His eyes were no longer deep blue, they were cold. Stiff. Hardened. “You weren’t here when I came back,” he threw it in your face. “At the finish line,” he quoted.

Arthur and John couldn’t bare to look at him. They exchanged glances and panned to you. “I just wanted to help. I wanted to make a change-” Tears were threatening. You had hurt the one person you didn’t want to hurt. He had to deal with his nightmares by himself. Manage things by himself.

Arthur hadn’t seen him this emotional since before the war. You on the other hand, have never seen him hurt, quite like this. It broke you more. You couldn’t argue with him. He was right. You could have easily stayed home. Not gotten involved. Kept your sanity in one piece. But you didn’t.

He moved closer to you, and you swore you thought he was going to shove you. Push you into a wall. Anything. His glossy eyes stared deep into you. Arthur and John were anticipating anything from him. Ready to tell him to fuck off, or leave you alone. “Don’t make promises, that you can’t keep-” You rushed him while he was mid-sentence. Your arms tangled around him, and you refused to let go. He could yell, try to pry you off, even bite you, but you weren’t letting go.

His body tensed like there was an ice cube in his shirt. He froze and you heard the small gasp he made. Shocked at the sudden contact. “I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.” Was all you could muster up to say.

John and Arthur were kicking themselves, wondering what the fuck was going on. Arthur eyed Thomas, seeing his response.

It was slow, and if you didn’t pay attention, surely you’d miss it. His arms wrapped around you. He managed to find comfort in the embrace. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t shaking. His eyes shut tightly. “I’m real bad Y/N,” He spoke lowly, trying to pace his breath. “I can’t fucking do this without you,” You knew he was close to tears.

“You wont have to do it without me,” You whispered back to him. “This is the finish line. I’m home, you’re home. We aren’t away anymore.” You reassured lightly. You felt him nod into your shoulder, but he didn’t let go.

This was suppose to be the other way around. He had tried to be strong. To not cry, to not break down. He’d do anything in his power to sleep. To forget everything. You were his adviser. His support system. His sister.

He should have known that all along, you’d be the one to hold him in the end.

@alliemariee15 @terrazaurio @reb0rned @oh-the-books @amirahiddleston @i-wish-i-wish-upon-a-star @shelbyandsolomons @dbunny13 @lovemissyhoneybee @captivatedbycillianmurphy @angelofdarkness2468

#thomas shelby #shelby sister fanfic #peaky blinders #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #polly grey #peaky blinders one shot

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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cuddling with tommy shelby would include.

Request: Could you write hcs about soft and uncharacteristically cuddly Tommy Shelby? Like idk he’s super touch-starved and he doesn’t know how to or doesn’t wanna comunicate it so he takes advantage of the cold weather to stay in bed and cuddle or something like that. Thanks!

Tommy, typically, is not very cuddly.

He likes to keep you close. Likes to have at least a hand on you somewhere, whether that be against your lower back or around your waist. He likes to hold your hand, Have you tucked into his safe, nice and safely near him.

But he’s not cuddly.

Nor does Tommy ever take vacations.

However, you’d manage to convince him to take the weekend off; just a couple days to himself.

You’re, honestly, still not even sure how you do manage to convince him.

But, nonetheless, you do.

Your expectations of the weekend weren’t overly high; after all, you’d wanted Tommy to spend it relaxing and catching up on some much needed sleep.

You thought maybe the two of you would lay in bed for a while longer then usual, eat breakfast, maybe go for a walk, whatever really came to mind.

However, when your eyes flicker open, about an hour later then you normally do, the first thing you notice is the arm securely wrapped around your waist. It’s not necessarily out of the norm, nor is the feeling of Tommy’s chest pressed firmly against your back, your legs entwined as barely any space exists between the two of you.

It’s a little more than you usually get, but, not odd.

The feeling of Tommy pressing his face into the crook of your shoulder, pressing soft, absent kisses on the sensitive and soft skin is, at least a little.

When you move to face him, the moan that leaves his lips definitely catches your attention.

“Tommy?”

He doesn’t move his head and instead, all you hear is a muffled, tired voice whisper; “let’s just stay in bed all day.”

Your lips curve into a instinctive smile, managing to move enough to run your hands through his unruly hair as you let out a light laugh. “That’s very unlike you.”

“I’m following your advice.”

He pulls back enough to send you a smug grin.

Rolling your eyes, you shift lower, pulling yourself further back under the covers and move so that you’re completely facing Tommy. He lets you now positive you won’t try to leave.

Setting your hands on his chest, you smile up at him, bright and wide with a sleepy expression. “Did you sleep well?”

“Aye,” he says softly, voice husky as his eyes fall shut momentarily in reassurance. “You?”

You nod, letting your head fall back against the pillow as you stare up at him hovering over you.

“You really wanna stay in bed all day?”

Tommy nods without hesitation. “It’s that nice outside.”

You snort; “you’re just using that as an excuse.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, leaning forward on his arms to press a kiss against your collarbone. “You caught me.”

You let out a laugh as he falls back, keeping you close with an arm around your waist, letting you rest your hand on his shoulder.

Silence falls over the two of you and you realize that whilst maybe it hadn’t been your original idea, spending all day in bed seems all too tempting now. Especially if Tommy will be as doting and affection as he is now.

He’s been so stressed with everything recently that he’s been a little more cold and distant than usual. You didn’t take offense to it, understanding the amount of pressure he was under. But, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t mess him.

Drawing random patterns across his chest, your touch feathery, you hum faintly; “spending all day in bed sounds wonderful.”

Squeezing your shoulder, Tommy pulls your eyes on him with a grin; “you think?”

You hum your agreement, biting your lower lip. Tommy smiles softly back at you, his hand cupping your cheek momentarily before running through your usually tied back hair, enjoying the way it pans across your bare back.

“Then, that is what will do.”

Let me know what you thought?

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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Hey love! Would you consider writing a second part of “I’ll See You At The Finish Line”? One where the sister is the toughest out of all of them and surprises them with how she handles it? With lots of fluff at the end?

I'd love to! I just have to get around to my other requests firsts. Xxx

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

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Do As You Please - 4

Thomas seemed to have a never-ending supply of cigarettes. This was something you’ve come to notice. Before he was able to whisk you away to the Garrison, you sheepishly informed him that you had some shopping to attend. He had already dismissed John and Arthur to go to the pub, keep things under wraps.

“I’ll make it quick, yeah? Only take me about an hour,” You explained. Alfie was very tight with time. Thomas only rubbed the back of his neck in response. “But what if I wanted you to start now?” He questioned with underlying authority.

He was someone you could push. Only problem was, you didn’t know how far. “I’ve made arrangements before hand. I wont let your work-fare kidnapping stop me.” Your words came out more stern than anticipated.

“Aye, careful how you speak to your boss,” he threatened with a tilted chin. Once again, the roll of your eyes only helped satisfy him more. He knew how to get under your skin. Make your ears hot. Not many people were dismissive of him in the way that you were.

Sure, Pol and Ada threw their attitudes in his face, but they also obliged to his orders. You simply didn’t give a fuck. Part of him wanted to challenge that. Break you down to your bare essentials. But for now, he was caught shamelessly staring. “Say.. I’ll go with.” He was more-so telling you, rather than asking you.

The side of your nose crinkled with amusement. “Can’t stand to be away from me huh?” Your words would make almost any man blush. But once again, Thomas Shelby wasn’t just any man.

“Last I heard, you weren’t complaining.” He sighed, letting his hand graze to your lower back. He surely had a knack for that. Guiding people around. Gentle caresses. Firm grips.

He didn’t expect you to smack his hand away.

Part of you wanted it to stay there. Maybe go lower if anything. But yet again, you didn’t know this man, and this man knew no boundaries. Rejection wasn’t something he was use to. The expression on his face said it all. Parted lips, pupils wide. You couldn’t help but laugh with pity. Part of him hoped that he didn’t offend you, but the other part of him did.

Knowing that you would squirm from his touch. Knowing that you rejected his advances to maintain your composure only made him-

“I thought we discussed this. I charge too much for you.” Your words cut his thoughts. A small laugh left his mouth. And with that, you made your way towards the market. It wasn’t a far walk from the tailor shop. Only about block.

He followed behind. Hands in his pockets, thoughts running wild. You had to have enjoyed the chase. If not, you were more of a man than most. You simply would have told him to fuck off.

But you didn’t. He didn’t push anything too far. Thomas was smart. Quick-witted if anything. The best hunters knew to not scare away their prey.

He admired the sight of you. Grabbing apples and fruits, turning them over to check ripeness. There was something so simplistic about you. You were a real beauty when you weren’t snapping at people within an arms reach. His own thoughts made him grin.

Your basket was filling. Yeast for bread, what else did you need? Alfies medicine. “You gonna keep following me around? Or are you gonna help me shop?” You called out to Thomas. Your eyes didn’t move from your basket, as you evaluated everything you had grabbed. About two tents over was where you had to go for Alfies medicine.

“Sorry love, just admiring.” He admitted shamelessly. He was hoping to see your hands shake. Hear your timid voice. That didn’t happen.

“Admiring what? The fuckin’ corn section?” You said making yourself laugh. “Never been to a market before?” He really didn’t know what he had gotten himself into.

You weren’t soft-spoken like most. You were loud, kind, and sympathetic. He shook his head with disbelief. “I was admiring you.” Were his attempts working? He never gave in to a woman like this. All you did was finally meet his gaze with a soft smile.

He was staring at you. Lost in thought. You had grown use to this with him. Just his character of habit. You momentarily put a hand on him to walk alongside you. “Lets go.”

You were a brutish woman. He hadn’t met anyone as stubborn as him in quite some time. You reminded him of Polly. His mind kept wandering. You no longer seemed nervous to be around him. Not to his knowledge at least.

Why was that? It took him a moment, but it finally clicked. Only when you were alone with him, would your nimble hands shake. Your voice would waiver, and you’d do anything to avoid his eyes. He figured it out, and kept it to himself.

“Good afternoon Miss Green,” you spoke kindly to the older woman who ran the medicine tent. “Hello dear! It’s lovely to see you!” She said walking from the table to give you a hug. She was always frivolously kind. Giving you advice on how to treat Psoriasis. You had lied and said it was for yourself. She informed you of home remedies she’d use on her late husband, and how to find the cheapest herbs and creams. She was a sweet woman.

Her eyes landed on Thomas, and all of her personality seemed to slip. She hung her head momentarily. “Good evening Mr. Shelby,” she spoke trying to seem appealing.

You stared at Thomas for an explanation on her behavior. Hoping you could read something through his eyes. His cold glare back to you, offered no solace.

“Oh uh,” you tried to clear the air, “I was wondering if you still had that ointment in stock,” she made everything herself. “Oh- I do!” She exclaimed going back behind the counter.

Thomas took a step back from you, and remained silent with his hands in his pockets. He did nothing but watch the exchange.

“How much will it be this time?” You asked as she handed you the jar of cream. You always tried your best to give her extra money when you had it on you.

Her eyes glanced from Thomas, and back to you. “Free of charge.” She smiled falsely. “No no I can’t accept that,” you interjected. “No dear, I insist.” She seemed a bit frantic.

You locked eyes with her, trying to figure out what had her all riled up. She was scared of him. You looked at Tom from over your shoulder. “She’s willing to pay. How much Miss Green,” he spoke up with his stern gaze.

The woman’s lips tightened. “I..” she hesitated. “3 quid,” she said looking to Thomas for the right answer. Everything about this was unsettling you.

“Thomas,” you paused “Do me a favor, I forgot to grab cheese. You can do that for me, yeah?” You asked. His eyes met yours. He was going to interject, but figured it better to oblige. He nodded in response and walked away.

“You okay..?” You asked just above a whisper. You slowly handed her the money. “I just.. I don’t want to upset him,” She tried to explain lowly. “What do you mean upset him? What’s he gonna do?” You said sparingly as a joke.

“You.. You don’t know?” She questioned with even wider eyes. “No? I don’t know?” You weren’t getting the hint fast enough. Thomas had already came back. You felt the cheese drop into your basket. You greeted him with a quick smile.

Miss Green avoided the conversation completely. You could sense her uneasiness, so you figured it best to throw extra money her way, and leave her stand. You politely exited and walked to the check-out with Thomas.

“Fucks wrong with you? Scaring an old woman like that,” You said looking to him. You chalked it up to his intimidating appearance. “Wouldn’t hurt you to smile at others huh? You act like you have no teeth in your mouth,” you added on with a pursed frown.

You really just didn’t understand it? Did you? Thomas took your groceries, completely dismissing what you had said to him. You huffed in annoyance as he handed the basket to the clerk.

“Are we good here?” Thomas spoke lowly, looking from your items, to the man behind the table. The clerk looked through your items and cleared his throat. “Aye Mr. Shelby,” he said with the same smile Miss Green had posed.

You went to grab your money but Thomas hooked his arm under yours. He began to walk. “What- What are you doing?” “We’re leaving Y/N.” He shot back. “But I didn’t pay- I’m not trying to go to jail over a jar of yeast.” You rambled.

He raised his hand to stop you from speaking. “Not necessary,” his gruff voice spoke out. “He owed me a favor. It was free of charge,” He lied, and damn, did he lie good.

Your eyebrows cinched together. You looked up at him for a better explanation, but it was apparent that you wouldn’t be getting one. You shook your head with confusion, not quite understanding the reputation he had made for himself.

Was it like that with the others? Did everyone in his family get away with murder? Little did you know. His arm unhooked from yours, as you made your rounds near your house.

You caught his eyes looking down to your hand. He did things without thinking. He held your basket in his left, and moved his right hand down to yours. He laced your fingers and waited for the smack. He was expecting you to tear your hand away, maybe even shove him. But you didn’t.

For just this once, you let it happen. Partially because you were paralyzed with fear. Fear of embarrassing yourself, of being lead on, of not being good enough. Your cheeks burned red, and you once again, did anything to not look at him. You were silent for once.

Every so often he’d glance at you. Wondering if you understood what it meant to hold his hand in public. To have people see you with him. He was growing to feel an odd sense of responsibility for you. You were naive. Fragile. Afraid of intimacy. It takes one to know one. After France, he refused the thought of love. The image of sleeping with someone again brought him discomfort. But he got to a level of realization. If it was suppose to happen, it would.

Bodies were meant for touch, for comfort. He found that in Lizzie, and in many other women. But right now, he was finding that feeling with you.

Your inner monologue differed greatly from his. Your mind was spinning in circles. You kept your eyes glued to the cobblestone. Wondering why this was happening to you. You weren’t insecure, but at the same time you felt that no one would pay you any attention. You liked it that way. Keeping to yourself. Drinking in the back of a restaurant while couples slow danced hand-in-hand.

You cleared the knot in your throat when you that saw your house was nearby. He wasn’t the first to let go. It was you. He was comfortable with himself, with his image, with the size of his hands, and the size of other things.

You on the other hand, tried your hardest to not think of yourself in a romantic situation. You were flustered to even think of your personality and appearance were being evaluated. The thought made your skin crawl.

He lead you up to the front-door of your own house. You could tell by the expression on his face that he wanted to come in. If anything, he assumed that he would be coming in. “What’s that cream for anyways?” He asked, catching you by surprise.

You leaned against your door, in order to assure he wouldn’t push his way in. He wouldn’t, but you didn’t know any better. “Oh.. I have psoriasis,” you smiled through false explanation. His head tilted with confusion. “I don’t see any psoriasis,” he called out, gently grazing your chin with his knuckle.

Your eyes went wide. He found it amusing. It thrilled him to pick you apart like this. “It’s on my legs,” you stammered. ”May I see?” he asked growing a smile on his face. He stepped closer to you. Slick bastard. “Oh uh, no..” You retorted back.

He put his hands up defensively, he didn’t want to push it too far. You seemed on-edge as it was. “I’m gonna go put these inside,” you gestured to the basket he held, and turned to the door. “Stay out here for a moment,” your keys unlocked the door.

“Why do I have to stay outside?” he questioned. “I have.. a cat.” Bullshit. Thomas laughed at your shitty response. “No really, I do. He doesn’t like anyone but me. He’ll bite the fuck outta’ ya.” Your cover-up was starting to form.

Thomas crossed his arms. “Whats the name of your cat?” He was trying to push buttons. “Alf-Alfred..” Your response came out slow

The odd mental image that you created in your mind let a smirk creep up on your face. He huffed through his nose. He always had such a stern look. Always frowning. “Alright,” he rolled his eyes. “I need a smoke anyways,” he said finally giving over the basket.

Thank god it worked. He wasn’t going to put himself anywhere he wasn’t wanted. He knew you were lying, but chalked it up to your house being messy.

Once inside, you locked the door for further insurance. “You’re home early.” Alfie was reading the same paper from that morning. Probably counting the letters on the page.

“Yeah, I was out early.. Went to shop,” should you tell him you quit? Or not yet. You set the basket down on the table. “Who’s the bloke outside?” He questioned threateningly. You could feel your heart drop to your ass. “Same one who walked me home last night,” you said with ease.

“Huh,” he huffed standing up from the recliner. “Whats his name?” You knew he’d do a check-in on him. Have one of his men figure out who it was you were seeing. “Thomas...” You said admitting his name. “I’m old enough to have my own friends,” you paused.

“Are they really friends if they wanna fuck you?” He said blatantly. “Whats his last name?” Your lips pursed and you just stared at him. “I’m not gonna shoot him through the fuckin’ door Y/N,” He said shaking his head. “Maybe I will... Depends...” He was very eccentric.

You kept your gaze with him for too long. He knew you were hiding something. He squinted his eyes. “Tell me the fuckin’ name,” he threatened. “Thomas Sheldon..” you said walking past him. “I’m going out, wont be home for a while-”

“You better not be lying to me,” He said walking closer to you. His hand reached out and gripped your bicep. “I promise, I’m not lying,” Yes you were, and the guilt you were feeling was getting heavier. You should just tell him. Why lie?

He let go and simply nodded, not breaking the eye contact. “Not too late.” He said with a low mumble. “Yeah, of course not.” You nodded. He never really intimidated you, but right now he was. “Dinner will be in the oven when you get home,” he said walking past you, and further into the kitchen.

With a sigh of relief, you walked to the front door. “Won’t be late,” you promised unlocking it, and closing it behind you.

You almost forgot Thomas was waiting for you.”Who was that?” You were startled out of your skin. “Huh? Who?” you questioned defensively.

He laughed and threw his cigarette bud on the floor. He squinted his eyes at you. “Who were you talking to?” He questioned. “You told them you wouldn’t be late? Huh?” He asked, doing his routine chin tilt.

“Oh.. uh yeah.. that was my cat,” You said covering your ass. “You talk to your cat like it’s a person..?” He paused. “Yeah? You don’t?” You said getting defensive. “Never had a fuckin’ cat,” he said shaking his head.

What an odd woman you were. “You remind me of someone,” he said gesturing you off the steps of your house. “Who?” You asked with curiosity.

“Just some man.. Haven’t seen him since we went to the beach together,”

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @amirahiddleston @urbansaint @parochialism @mortalflower @a-dorky-book-keeper @stressedandbandobessed7771 @patdsinner33

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #slow burn #angst #original character #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

Text

Master List

Thomas Shelby

Do As You Please - Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

One Shots

Shelby Sister

“I’ll See You At The Finish Line”

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

Note

Please may I have a Shelby sister where she's about a year or two younger than John. She goes to war to be a nurse and all her brothers don't know until after when they all get home. She has a special relationship with Tommy btw as they have always been the same in temperament and brains Thank you :) xx

Just posted! Go check it out hehe

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sinningismywinning · 4 years

Text

“I’ll See You At The Finish Line”

Requested One-Shot : Shelby Sister! x Shelby Brothers

Prompt: The boys have gone to war, expecting you to be there for when they come home. Little did they know, you were recruited as well.

Tight chests. Anxious ticks. They were leaving. You couldn’t force out your words. You were worried that you wouldn’t say everything you needed to say. Afraid that you’d kick yourself in the ass later on for not saying enough. Did they know you loved them? That you were praying for a safe venture?

“Don’t cry,” Arthur was never this affectionate. His arms held you tightly. “Don’t go, please don’t leave.” Your voice was hoarse from sobs. They were recruited. You had known about this day for weeks now, but you couldn’t believe it was already time for them to go. Polly looked to Arthur as she stood behind you. It was a joke between everyone, that you were the fifth Shelby brother. You were always closer to the men, than you were to your aunt and sister.

Arthur wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of hurting you. Scared to hurt Ada, Pol, and little Finn. He was even more afraid to see his brothers die next to him. “Al-Alright,” he tried to coo as gently as possible. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. Ada was a wreck in the kitchen. All of the Peaky women were.

John hushed you softly as he helped Arthur pry you off. “You’re coming back right?” You pleaded to John. “You wont leave, yeah?” Your words weren’t convincing. Three men, same war. You knew the possibility of all three coming back were low. You just didn’t know which one had the odds against him.

“I’m gonna come back, I promise.” John smoothed your hair. He was always the stronger one out of both of you. More reserved, more laid-back. He knew how to calm you. Arthur made his rounds of goodbyes, as he embraced Polly. Ada was pleading to Thomas in the kitchen.

They haven’t seen you cry like this before. They were use to it with Ada. She gave them a soft-spot for emotions. She made them more understanding of women in general. Pol was very head-strong, and tried her hardest to not break down in front of the boys. But you, they haven’t seen you cry since your father left.

You shut your eyes tightly as he pulled you into his chest. Your breathing was shaky. His hands trembled on your back. John closed them to fists, trying to hide his nerves. It was no use. He was as scared as you were.

“Don’t worry,” his time was running out. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and regretfully pulled away from you. “They’ve gotta go love,” Polly softly remarked. Her words burned like an iron.

You shook your head in defiance, but you knew they had to leave. Your family couldn’t afford more Shelby men in prison, and they couldn’t spare money for a fine.

You let go of John. Your chest knotted and you picked at the fabric of your sleeves. Don’t break down. Keep it under wraps.

Arthur and John said their tearful goodbyes, and grabbed their items. They headed to the front door. The room was too tense. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

You had to see Tommy. You turned to the kitchen and he was already walking out. He stopped walking, just to look at you. You were never this weak, this fragile, this afraid.

“Don’t cry, please.” Before the war, his words could melt a room. He set down his bag and approached you. He was the one that would hurt the most. You and Tommy had a different bond than anyone else in your family. You both had a mutual understanding for each other.

He was always honest with you about family affairs. He never spoke down to you, or dismissed you as an annoying younger-sister. He treated you like a best friend. Your minds clicked. He always confided in you before any big change in the company.

His hands wiped away your tears. He was the only one you didn’t want to cry in front of. His hands moved to your cheeks as he held your face. “Don’t break my heart now,” he said lightly with a smile. You didn’t want him to change after the war, but you knew that they all would.

You felt as if you wouldn’t have any direction without them. No sense of mind. Polly was helpful, but you had a tendency to rebel against her suggestions.

You could only shake your head in response to his words. You felt your lip tremble and you knew you were close to losing it. His hands kept you steady. “Please be safe,” was all you could muster. You were going over the things you’d remember him for in your head. His bar-fights, slick jokes, willingness to help people. You were going to hold onto that, and hope that he did the same. “I will.. I will,” he mumbled reassuringly, pulling you into a hug.

Your tears burned hot as they drenched his shirt. You held onto him tightly. No one in your family was this affectionate. You weren’t use to it, and neither was he. Situations like this made most of you uncomfortable. This was different. You didn’t want to let go. Tommy didn’t either. “I’ll make my way back to you,” he promised. You couldn’t stand the thought of being alone without him. No one else picked your brains quite like he could.

“I guess I’ll see you at the finish line,” you spoke into his shoulder. He knew it was time to go, when Polly walked near and shot him a knowingly-glance. He couldn’t be late to the station. There was love between all of you in that house. It went unspoken.

“That you will,” he said pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He backed up and firmly clasped your shoulders. “No more crying. When I come home, you better have not snuck any boys into the house. And if I find out, its your ass.” he threatened to lighten your frown. “No promises, I’ll just have them sleep in your bed,” you laughed through stinging tears. Your face was red from distraught, but you mustered a smile. His hands dropped from your shoulders. All he could do was nod with tight lips and fake a smile. Now it was really time for them to go. He picked up his bag from the floor.

You couldn’t move. You stared at his back as he walked to the door. Arthur and John had been waiting outside. At least they would all be together. They weren’t by themselves in all of this. “Oh and another thing,” Tommy called back as he opened the door. “Don’t fuck with my things,” he said pointing a finger specifically to you. “No promises,” you responded once again. He shot you one last weakened smile, and with that, they were gone.

The months to come were hectic. Getting into the swing of managing the business, and gambling accounts was rough. Pol knew what she was doing, and helped earnestly to guide to and Ada. Yet, she had more of a knack for it than you did.

The house was quiet. It was also clean. You began to realize how messy the men in your family were. It didn’t take long for you to register that you had no purpose in the house. You didn’t contribute to womanly duties, and quite frankly, you never intended on doing so.

When you first caught wind of more nurses being needed in war, it quickly became a thought in the back of your head. You were never ill at the sight of blood, and have always wanted learn proper stitching methods. You’ve closed up wounds, but no one’s ever said you’ve done the prettiest job.

Polly rejected the idea of you going into war. She refused to let you leave. “Too many of us are gone. I don’t want to risk losing one of you if it’s not necessary.” Ada on the other-hand, understood your need for it. She knew you were passionate about it. Which is why she went with you to the train station.

When Ada came back without you, Polly knew she had lied. You didn’t go to the market, you had sold yourself to the government. She didn’t speak to Ada for days. She felt betrayed. Almost all of her children except for two, stayed back from the war. Finn was just a child, and Ada knew better to partake. She never really forgave you for leaving.

The sights you saw. The amputations, the deaths, the burns. War was a cruel thing. All the men fighting were just pawns in a game of. It was always in the forefront of your mind. What if one day Arthur was rushed in with no legs? What if Johns tore-up body flat lined in front of you? What if they never got the chance to find Thomas’ body on the field. He stayed an unnamed corpse. These were the thoughts that kept you awake in your cot.

The hospital never slept. The noises of agony and pain rang through the halls. The pleas for mercy, the cries for death. You could never get past the smell. Sleep was off the table. Most times, you figured yourself mad. Shadows running down the hall. Shaking hands whenever someone would die in front of you. It was your fault. No matter how battered, you always blamed yourself for the deaths of soldiers. The ones that were too far gone. You’d close their eyes and wheel out the body.

Your mind was numb. Emotionless.

Many nights you’d spend your moments of peace crying your eyes out in the cleaners closet. You knew you were saving lives. You couldn’t help but imagine your brothers suffering the same fate as the men down the hall.

When the war was over, infantry was sent home first. Then the back-ranks, and finally the med teams.

When your brothers came back from war, they were all changed. Arthur wasn’t loud and boastful. He was quiet and shut-off. John didn’t talk much within the first hour of being home, and Thomas no longer smiled. The color was drained from their faces. Polly tried to grab all of them in her arms. Arthur flinched at first, and John weakly hugged back. Thomas didn’t budge.

Ada stood behind Polly with Finn on her hip. They were almost unrecognizable. “Just a long trip back,” Arthur muttered for a false explanation.

“Wheres Y/N?” Thomas quipped. Polly’s face dropped, and John looked up from the floorboards. Something wasn’t right. “Well she..” Ada tried to start.

You weren’t dead, and you weren’t missing. That much was obvious. “Spit it out,” Tommy spoke coldly. His eyes didn’t break from Adas. The pressure to answer resided heavily in the room. John sheepishly looked to Thomas.

Polly felt the snap in him. “About three months after you all left, she did too.” Her voice was calm as possible.

Arthur’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Moved out? Fuck happened?” He questioned. John still kept his mouth shut. They were already asking what he was wondering.

“No, you’re not understanding me...” Polly chimed. Thomas was thinking long and hard. He saw the expression on Adas face and pieced it together. “Then say it in a way we’ll understand,” He snapped, hoping to be wrong.

“She went to war..” Ada spoke up. Johns ears started to burn. His baby sister joined the fight? “She enlisted as a nurse. Wrote one letter telling us she was assigned to the field medics..” Her voice dropped with each word.

Thomas couldn’t believe this. His eyes were wide with rage. “You fucking let her join?” Arthur shouted, setting his bags on the floor. There was a timid aggression that had grown in all of them. Ada felt the weight of her assistance, breaking down her shoulders.

“You know how she is Arthur,” Polly grew defensive. “Shes stubborn and-” “And naive!” Thomas finally broke. “She left on her own Thomas!” Polly snapped back, covering up for Ada.

John ran his hands through his hair and moved to sit near the dinner table. He still hadn’t said a word. “Are you fucking mad!” Thomas boasted. He never yelled at either of them before. Not like this at least.

Polly saw the deep issues that grew within all of them. The fear, the aggression, the passion to hate. She took his anger. Let him get his punches out.

“She’ll be back in a few weeks. The paper said there weren’t enough trains to send every one home.” Her words did the opposite of calm him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a fucking smoke,” He muttered walking back out of the door.

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. The women didn’t expect this kind of reunion. The men didn’t either.

Thomas sat down on the curb outside. If he didn’t leave the house, he’d put a hole in the wall. His hands were shaking as he pulled out a cigarette. It was too cold outside for his current attire, but he didn’t care.

He lit the flame and stared at the carriages trotting by. The people on the streets embracing one another. He looked down at the cobblestone. Fucking unbelievable. You were suppose to be there when he came home. He was suppose to take comfort in knowing that you’d be there to help him through this. He couldn’t imagine what you must have seen.

He inhaled smoke, letting it burn his tightened chest. Now the tables have turned, and the cards were switched. He was going to have to be your support system as well. He held his forehead in his hands. He shut his emotionless eyes, and sat in thought.

“At the end of the finish line,” he hummed to himself. His mind was still in France. Fighting a war that no one else could quite see. Yet his empty shell of a body was back in Birmingham. Broken, scarred. He inhaled, and sighed through his nose.

Despite his disappointment and inner rage, he knew he had to be strong to distinguish your fire that would burn brighter than his. He was just hoping you’d make it home in one piece.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

#shelby sister #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders one shot #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #polly grey #shelby sister fanfic

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