#Polly The King's Man

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

THE KING’S MAN HEADCANON

Polly and Oxford never married, but they got together six months after the foundation of the Kingsman; the relationship lasted for the rest of their lives. 

They had no children, but they cared for a number of boys and girls who had lost their parents during the war, or whose families were unable to support them; the oldest of those children, Oxford formally adopted as his heir, bequeathing him his title and estate. 

His name? Harry Hart (senior). 

[ghost-lobster]

second stupidest thing i've ever drawn. yippee!

[hershelwidget]

working on a silly as hell comic to characterize the powerhouse npcs better :) here’s some snippets :))

it’s basically just the concept of “what if they were all human” but funnier ! It’s a pretty fun way to show not just the personalities of the characters themselves but also how they interact with each other !! it’s subtle but effective :3

[timaeuslover001]

Emily Oxford “The King’s Man” Headcanon (AU)

Emily was born in London to a barber and a Draper assistant , made housewife after marriage.

Emily learned everything about clothes and sewing from her mother when she would visits her old job often and even when she would mend her clothes and even take up small projects of making clothes when she could. Her mother made all of her clothes from scraps and gotten them tailored for free from her old employer so they always looked impeccable.

Emily loved traveling around London, she loved the city, the hustle the noise the excitement.

Emily worked at her fathers shop to sweep and clean up a bit but they always needed money , they were happy but things did get hard time to time. So she applied as a counter girl at a department store in the upper class areas of London.

Emily eventually moved out at 17 years old to work at a fine fashion department and after much convincing and she was gorgeous enough to be appealing to the male customers as well.

she got on well enough with he girls well enough except a few, new completion never bode well but she was excited. expoing another part of London sh never has before only briefly.

she often dodged a few men googling her and her co workers , and one man mr Bellamy an older gentleman who frequently parades the are, who seemed to be on the sights for a new girl , she assumed the last one had run off. she often does these men and gotten so good at it , its impressive.

She met 14 year old Polly Wilkins, just window shopping and immediately struck up a kinship with eachother. Polly eventually told her where she worked and she was concerned and shocked but reassured her that she was okay and can handle herself. she even made sure polly made it "home" okay.

Orlando spotted her one day after coming back from his adventuring around the globe for a year, a friend brought him along in the city and he saw her face in the street as he was passing through in the carriage and immediately was struck by her face.

Her face was in his head for the next month and went back into the city and found her crouched behind a stand with flowers on it dodging Mr Bellamy of all people. After he had passed, they met eyes and immediately was taken with eachother.

They began seeing each other on her breaks and her day off. This must have deterred some suitors because a few never were seen, but she was happy.

After 3 months of official courting,, he proposed but due to the suddenness of it all both Orlando father and her father agreed to extend their engagement by at least a year.

Some girls got jealous and called her a “counter jumper” but she couldn’t care less

Orlando, advised by his father, did let her know what she would be getting into as a Duchess. She thought about it carefully and still accepted.

He met her friends and had a fun time In a pub where they threw them an engagement party.

they had a beautiful wedding in the country at his a cute local small church he grew up going to in the country. He wore a beige and green suit and she wore a white gown with the same light green accents as him.

[kadwrites]

office scandal | T.S

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summary ; polly takes you with her to run an errand.

warnings ; arranged marriage trope, bad writing?!! , typos maybe (english isn't my first language)

a/n ; i almost lost my mind writing this. hopefully the accents are better and polly is well portrayed? lmk what you think <3

_

you're still on your bed, your friends are on it too this time. madeline and fiona , are on either side of you, kneeling on your mattress.

"what do ya mean y're gettin' married ?" madeline looks at you with a crooked smile, she thinks you're messing with her.

fiona is just staring at you with her head tilted

"i mean i am to be wed, betrothed, spoken for,"

"okay stop." fiona puts a hand up , "when did ya decide to do that? i thought ya were waitin' to get swept off yer feet"

you sigh, leaning back and letting the back of your head hit the bed frame "it just ... 'appened..."

madeline and fiona look at eachother before looking at you

"what are ya not tellin' us?"

"yeah , what are ya hidin' ?"

you look at them both, you contemplate telling them. you haven't really spoken about this whole ordeal to anyone , not really. and its been a week and a half already

"i um" your eyes drop to your hands "my parents chose 'im for me"

"yer parents?" fiona asks with a raised brow "and how exactly did they convince ya to do that?"

"its a long story" you wave a dismissive hand

"so ya know who he is?" madeline copies fiona, tilting her head too "do we know 'im as well?"

"i think everyone in birmingham knows 'im" you mutter under your breath

"who the fuck are ya marryin'?the king of england?"

you just stare at them, you lick your lips "ya got to keep yer knickers intact."

they both nod,

"its thomas shelby"

"what?" fiona's face drops , her voice does too.

madeline just snorts a laugh and then then goes quiet and just looks at you, "y're jokin' right?"

you take a deep breath "no , i am not jokin' "

"what do ya mean y're marryin' thomas shelby?" madeline gets closer to you "how?"

"i don't know..." just look back at them, your voice soft too.

"do ya want this?" madeline asks again

"it's complicated really..."

"no its not, ya either do or ya don't" fiona's hands grab yours "do ya not want this?"

you lick your lips, you take a moment to think , howare you going to even phrase this "i do,"

"ya do know who he is right?" madeline stares at you with a confused look "he isn't just any man"

"i know who he is..." you sigh

"then how are ya willing to marry 'im?" fiona never spoke so seriously before

"i 'ave my reasons"

"i hope that they're good enough for ya to put yourself through this" madeline chimes in again

you just close your eyes and let yourself plop back against the mattress, fiona and madeline share another look.

" 'ave you seen 'im?" madeline laid next to you

"yeah" you say with a chuckle , your mind flashing images of him on the sofa.

"is he really a dish?"

madeline smacks fiona on her arm and fiona rubs it with a frown "what! ya were thinkin' that too!"

you roll your eyes, but a small smile plays at your lips "he isn't bad lookin' i suppose."

madeline looks at you with a raised brow

"fine, he's a dish, happy?" you mumble , as if it pained you to admit it

"at least one of us will be fuckin' someone attractive"

"i thought ya liked callum" madeline frowns

"i love ya madeline i do, but callum isn't exactly a sight for the sore eyes"

"when's the weddin'?"

you look at madeline "i dont know , we 'ave yet to speak about that"

"i bet it's gonna be grand , ey?" fiona wiggles her brows

"well if i'm marryin' one of the wealthiest man in birmingham i might as well make at an occasion"

"wait , did you 'ave an engagement party already?" madeline asks, with a gasp and a hand on her chest

"if i did, ya would've been there."

"he has a son , ya know" fiona's voice goes back to its soft tone

you hum and nod "he told me about 'im"

"he did?" madeline asks with a smile

"what did he say?"

"that he wants a wife that can take care of 'im,"

"won't be long till you start poppin' out babies too" fiona mumbles

"whats that supposed to mean?" you ask with a chuckle

"with a husband this good lookin'? i give ya three months, and ya'll have a little one in that belly"

"don't speak that into existence!"

"i mean..." madeline says with a smirk "look at celest, she got pregnant with sarah , what? 4 or 5 months after she got married?"

"please don't open this topic of conversation" you beg as you rub your hand over your face "im stressed as it is."

all the of you turn to look at the door when you hear is open and celest's head peaks in "polly gray is here"

madeline and fiona turn to look at eachother then at you

"why?"

"i don't know but she's waitin' for ya" celest shrugs

"i'll be right there" you get off the bed and open the doors to your closet, looking for something to wear

"polly gray ? she's the shelbys aunt isnt she?"

"what does she want with ya?"

you change your clothes in a hurry, mind racing with possibilities "im not sure" you just mumble as you put on your blouse.

they watch you as you fix your hair and then go downstairs.

"mrs gray" you say with a polite smile as you walk into the living room "to what do i owe the pleasure"

she looks at you with a look thats eerily similar to her nephew's,and you try to not turn and walk back up the stairs

"we 'ave some business to attend to"

"we do?" your brows furrow "at this time?" it was 6 in the evening after all.

"yes"

"okay." you try not to snap your own neck at that response.

you get into her car as she drives, you two sitting in awkward silence "where are we goin' ?"

she glances at you before glancing back at the road and you just don't ask again but then you see your destination, shelby company limited and you think you might just not get out of that car but you do. your heels click against the floor when you walk through the dark halls.

there aren't many people there considering the work day has already ended, but you see a woman. she's young, around your age maybe. and she greets polly, completely ignoring you but you chalk it up to maybe the fact that it's polly gray is standing next to you.

"good evenin' , mrs gray" her voice is almost sickly sweet

"do you know who this is?" she asks her, nodding at you.

she looks you up and down and then shakes her head "nah, i can't say i do."

"she's tommy shelby's fiancé."

"i didn't know he was engaged" her lashes flutter and her lips twitch as she tries to maintain her smile.

"ya do now , don't ya?" polly stares that woman down "an' i hope it doesn't escape yer mind"

you just watch as the color drains out of her face as she excuses herself and scurries back to her work.

"what the fuck was that about?" it escapes your mouth before you even think, polly turns to you "that poor girl"

"in a place like this , ya either put yer fucking foot down and let everyone know what yer place is before they decide for themselves." her voice is stern, its firm and it makes you stand straighter "an' that poor girl wants to fuck yer fiancée"

"what?" your voice is squeaky, its high pitched. "how could you possibly know that?"

"anyone with eyes can fuckin' see that."

"i.." your words die when you look at her and you realize, she's helping you. "why are ya doin' this for me?"

"i know ya might not had the control that ya wanted over who yer husband is" her tone doesn't change when she speaks "so i'll give ya one piece of advice, ya can't marry tommy if ya don't 'ave a backbone. it'll be easier for ya to kill yerself than to live with 'im."

you know polly, but not well. she and your father knew eachother as children , your father is part gypsy himself. you remember meeting her a handful of times as a child but you were always too scared to talk to her for very long.

ironically, your mother didn't like the lifestyle her nephews led, she didn't want her children to be involved in it so you didn't get to see polly much throughout your life.

but you do remember one thing vividly and its her telling you to bite your brother back whenever he bothered you "or ya'll just show 'im that he can treat ya like that for the rest of yer life, ya dont want that now do ya?" . and you did do just that when abraham tugged on your braids a mere 10 minutes later, and polly winked at you , as she sipped her tea and you just stood there smiling proudly even though your mother was yelling at you for making your brother cry.

when you hear another pair of steps walking towards you, you both turn to see tommy. he's in his usual getup sans the jacket, a cigarette hanging from his lip and his glasses are on , his hands in his pocket.

"are ya done terrorizin' my secretary?"

polly just looks at him and walks past him "i'll leave ya two to it then."

and you were left there with him, blinking at that interaction.

"terrorizin' ? thats a bit of an exaggeration"

_

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[copinghex]

The noose | T.S

Summary: Tommy's wife returned home after the failure of his plan got the whole family arrested. The way they deal with her trauma ends up sending her to a worse place.

The feeling of the noose around her neck still haunted her. At that moment, all she thought about was her family, Rose was a daddy's girl, she would be fine eventually, but what about Violet? What about Tommy? What about her brother and mother? What about Finn?

What about Polly? The woman was side by side with her, tears ran down her face as she muttered a prayer and there was nothing Y/N could do, except hoping that her in-laws on the cells aside met a better ending.

With a deep breath, she revisited the past, the smell of Grace's hair as she held the spy from behind, the sound of the train coming and the bitter taste on her tongue, reminding her Tommy that could be dead by then, that if she let Grace go, she’d certainly reach for the gun a few steps away. Her only choices were to kill or die.

Then, the saving yell came, a desperate guard who didn't truly care for the Shelbys' life and was only complying with the king's order of setting the family free.

As they met again in the hallway of jail, no words were said. Polly cried in Michael's arms while Arthur and John hugged each other. Y/N stood there, speechless, waiting for someone to cross the door and hold her too, but no one did.

Somehow, she knew they also blamed her, because she should've talked Tommy out of the russians' business, because she should've given a warning before their arrest. She wished she had then, if she only hadn't choked on her own fear, perhaps their forgiveness would come easily. 

On the way out, a driver waited for her, Y/N scoffed at the realization Tommy was too ashamed to face her. She wondered if he still blamed the stupid cursed sapphire for all their misery.

Finally, she was home again, Rose and Violet ran to their mother's arms, crying about how much they missed her. Tommy watched the scene from afar with too many words stuck in his throat, if he was able to kneel and apologize, it still wouldn't erase the guilt he felt.

After Y/N promised she'd never leave again, the children left her alone and she had to encounter her husband. However, while he had too much to say, she had nothing.

The truth was that Tommy always had too much to say, he was a clever, eloquent man, no one ever struggled in maintaining a conversation with him because his views of life were beyond intriguing. The war had taken away his will to speak, but his mind was still a powerforce capable of generating the most fascinating speeches.

On the other hand, Y/N carried herself silently, preferring to show than tell. Every time Tommy spoke about politics, science, religion or even boring mundane tasks, she paid close attention, not bothering to hide the adoration in her eyes. She believed displaying genuine interest was more flattering than attempting to engage in the conversation.

Standing at the entry of the house, they remained silent and silently the days went by. No talks about what happened, no apologies, no touches or significant looks. Everything went back to normal as they ignored the elephant in the room.

That lasted until a particularly warm night, the children were in bed, all the windows were open and many watch dogs guarded the garden. The summer was coming and Y/N decided to welcome it by getting a new style, joining the new fashion of haircuts above the shoulders, as if a new external could cease the mess in her head.

That night no comments were made about her sudden change, everyone sensed the tense atmosphere including herself, who was in desperate need of relaxing, then the idea popped in her head, she needed a long, warm bath.

Heading to the bathroom, she denied the maids' offers of help, aware that she regenerated better alone. She filled the bathtub with cold water and enough soap to make bubbles.

The sudden temperature change sent a shiver down her spine, the blood running on her veins matched summer and took a while to cool up. Resting her head on the tub's edge, Y/N closed her eyes trying to focus on the delicious smell of lavender soap.

However, her heart beated fast and her chest held a tight feeling, as if someone was stepping on her, crashing her ribs and making it hard to breathe. 

Her jaw clenched as she ran hands through her recently cut hair, the strange feeling persisted and her blood traveled to her face, heating up her cheeks. 

Ignoring the situation, she took deep, slow breaths and rationalized the symptoms. She had an awful couple of months, her body must've been too warm when she got into the cold water. That was all, it would pass.

In the frustrated attempt to calm down, Y/N conjured happy memories. The night her and Tommy celebrated the first legal betting license. Their first honeymoon night and how delighted she was to be officially his wife. When they moved in and inaugurated the house by spending the night together in the bathtub. 

Everything with the same Tommy she hadn't spoken to in weeks, the same Tommy she had killed for, the same one to send her to the noose. 

The rope squeezed her braid and neck together, Polly's silent prayer was all to be heard, but God wouldn't save them, what would happen next? Was it all done? Would she wake up somewhere else? Was the sapphire really cursed? What now? She wasn't dead but she couldn't breathe,

She couldn't breathe…

She couldn't breathe…!

Y/N opened her eyes, noticing her cheeks wet with tears, gasping for air, her shaky hands grabbed the bathtub's edge in a quick impulse to stand up. Water drops trickled from her naked body making a mess on the bathroom's door, the dogs were barking outside and her sight was getting dark.

Clumsily, she managed to reach for her robe, covering herself with the soft piece of clothing. The tears still came out as her legs got weak, holding onto the walls, she supposed she bumped on something because maids were knocking on the door, "Is everything alright, Mrs. Shelby?" 

Y/N recognized Frances' voice, unable to answer, she shrunk her legs and pressed her lips together.

"I think we should call Mr. Shelby," another maid suggested.

Despite feeling weak, her feet moved rhythmically, quick with the energy the rest of her body was lacking. In a matter of seconds, Tommy called for her.

"Y/N, are you alright in there?" the worry in his tone was clear, "Y/N, I need an answer even if you don't want to talk to me!" 

Gulping, she brushed off her wet cheeks and sobbed, "Tommy?" 

"Y/N, are you alright?" 

"...no," 

Everything got silent, the fear was slipping away as she heard the door unlocking. The extra keys, every single door in the house had extra keys. Tired and confused, she remained still.

Tommy rushed to her, it was his turn to panic, he kneeled to her level looking for injuries. Not finding any, he worried even more.

"What the fuck happened?" he sat her up, "What happened, love?" 

Ashamed, she stared at the floor, a knot formed on her throat with the urge of crying again, "I don't know- I-" 

She sobbed, shrugging off. He immediately pulled her to his chest, not caring if her wet hair would ruin his shirt, "No, no, it's alright, eh? You're alright, I got you now," 

Words were unnecessary for Tommy to acknowledge he was the root of her suffering. He knew how badly he fucked up and seeing his wife like that was the worst punishment ever. Worse than his family's hatred, worse than the possibility of her leaving him, worse than himself being hanged.

Together at bathroom's floor, they grieved her near death. Not all the money, cars or jewels they had could fix the damage, perhaps not even time could, a scar would remain forever regardless of her forgiving him or not.

Feeling her snuggled into him, Tommy muttered, "We need to talk," 

Fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt, she quietly answered, "I think we do."

[loulouwrites]

DIVULGATION . TOMMY SHELBY

summary: tommy's perfect life comes crashing down around him

warnings: angst, swearing, infidelity (sort of), talks of childbirth, terminal illness, child abandonment, infertility issues, period typical attitudes towards pregnancy and childbirth, period typical sexism/misogyny, loss of a parent, unedited

a/n: i will get to making a taglist, but life is a nightmare atm lmao

word count: 3.7k

In many ways, life had not been kind to Tommy Shelby. He had been raised in nothing more than a slum, in a town that saw no sunny days, any form of sunlight being covered by the thick smog of the factories that loomed over the town's residents - a constant reminder of their destiny. He had volunteered to fight for the King before he truly had time to understand what it meant, the thought of fighting men the same as him in a foreign country seeming better than being stuck in Small Heath for the rest of his miserable life.

He was meant for greater things, and he knew exactly what he had to do to get them.

As haunted as he was, Tommy excelled in nearly all aspects of his life. He had built an empire from nothing, he had secured a country manor for the cost of a shack in Small Heath, and he had a wife that had seemed to be put on this earth just for him.

Every decision he made, every step he took, was a calculated move to protect what he had built and to silence the ghosts that refused to let him be. Tommy Shelby was a man driven by both his aspirations and his demons, forever walking the line between triumph and torment.

She had married Tommy Shelby out of nothing but love. When they were wed, he had just arrived home from France, and people told her he was a shadow of the man he once was, though she never believed them. He was funny, charming, and clever; he just kept that part of himself hidden from everyone but her, which only endeared him to her even more.

They had come a long way since their wedding day. They had moved out of the terrace on Watery Lane into a mansion that was far too big for their small family. She no longer spent her days working in the shady betting office at the back of their house; now her days were filled with planning dinner parties and organising fundraising events for her husband's numerous charitable organisations.

Life was easier now, even if it felt a little emptier. She had thought her family would be bigger by now, expecting a few children to fill the vast house and keep her company, but it had never happened for her. She had wondered if there was something wrong with her, that her body was simply created wrong. It wasn't until she was having lunch at Polly's house that realisation dawned on her.

"You're pregnant," the older woman grinned behind her cigarette.

Her eyes widened at the words, and she dropped the china cup on the table. She had long given up on the thought of carrying a child, so the signs of her pregnancy had gone unnoticed. But the words Polly spoke hit her like a ton of bricks.

She was pregnant.

She left Polly's house hastily, barely glancing at the woman as she rushed to her car, a smile on her face, already imagining Tommy's reaction when she told him. She knew he would be thrilled. He had been pining for a child of his own even more than she had, and the hopeful looks he gave her whenever she was sick pierced her heart each time. But that didn't matter now, she was finally giving him a child, they were finally starting their family.

She called Frances' name as soon as she stepped through the door, asking if Tommy was home yet as she threw her bag and coat on the chair by the door. The housekeeper appeared in the foyer with a nervous look on her face, a rarity for the somewhat judgmental woman.

"Mrs. Shelby," Frances started, wringing her hands together in a timid manner, "you have a visitor."

"Who?" she asked, her joyful smile slowly fading.

"A woman," the older woman replied. "She claims to know your husband."

She understood Frances' apprehension in that moment. It was rare for Tommy to receive female visitors at the house, unless they were family or there for business.

She was about to question the housekeeper further but was interrupted by the front door swinging open. Her husband stepped inside, his eyes widening in confusion at the sight of the two women standing frozen in the foyer, their eyes burning into him.

"Mr. Shelby," Frances broke the silence. "You have a visitor."

"Who? I'm not expecting anyone," Tommy said, walking to stand beside his wife and placing a tentative hand on her waist, not missing the way she stiffened under his touch.

"A woman," his wife said, pinching her lips together.

"A woman," he echoed, his eyes flickering between his wife and Frances. "Did this woman happen to give you her name, Frances?"

"She said her name was Catherine, Mr. Shelby," Frances replied hesitantly. "There is something else..."

The husband and wife fixed her with such a burning gaze that the older woman had to lower her head to evade it, only daring to raise it again when Tommy cleared his throat, signaling for her to continue.

"She has a child with her, little thing, about ten years old."

The tension in the room thickened with Frances' words. All three bodies straightened, Tommy dropping his hand from his wife's waist to nervously rub along his lips.

He didn't notice his wife's absence at his side until he heard Frances' panicked voice call her name as she stormed towards his study, the skirt of her dress swinging from side to side with the force of her steps.

He joined Frances, calling out of her name, but she didn't listen, swinging the door to his study open, her heated gaze landing on the woman sitting on one of the seats at Tommy's desk.

"Who are you?" she spat out, shaking off Tommy as he caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

The woman's eyes widened. "My...my name is Catherine."

"I didn't mean your name," she hissed, approaching the desk. "Who are you?"

"I'd prefer to speak to Tommy alone," Catherine answered meekly, dropping her gaze.

"You'd prefer to speak to Tommy," she mocked, leaning a hand on the desk. Tommy called her name again, shaking his head at her when she looked at him.

"Do you know this woman?" she asked her husband, whose gaze flickered to the woman sat by his desk, a blank look on her face.

"No."

Catherine scoffed at his words, standing up from the chair on shaky feet. It was only then the frail state of the woman was clear. She may have been pretty once, but her sunken cheeks and pale skin aged her, and the drab clothes she wore made her seem worn and tired beyond her years.

"This," Catherine pointed to the child sitting beside her, and the other two adults in the room looked at the boy for the first time since they entered, "is Frank."

The young boy didn't look up at the mention of his name, his eyes fixed to his swinging feet.

"He's your son, Tommy."

"Ha," Tommy's wife scoffed. "I'm sure he is."

Your paragraph is mostly clear and grammatically correct. Here's a refined version:

Tommy called her name again, a warning in his voice that he seldom used when addressing her. She fixed him with a glare she seldom directed at him.

"It was before you went to France," Catherine interrupted the husband and wife's silent conversation. "You and your brothers were buying whiskey for the whole pub. I always remember you sitting in the corner, just watching everyone else have fun. I came over and asked you if you were drinking to celebrate or to forget, and you said..."

"Both," Tommy finished her sentence.

"Oh my God," his wife gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

Catherine ignored the other woman, turning her attention to Tommy.

"By the time I realised I was pregnant, you were already in France, and when you came back, everyone said you were different...I was managing fine so I didn't feel the need to tell you..."

"But now you need money," Tommy nodded, reaching into his breastpocket for a cigarette. "How much?"

"What?" Catherine frowned.

"How much?" Tommy mumbled as he lit his cigarette.

"I don't need your money," the woman had the decency to sound offended at the man's words.

"Bullshit," his wife scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't," Catherine insisted. "I'm sick, Tommy. Very sick, and I have no family. It's just me and Frankie."

The silent little boy in the chair finally lifted his head to look at his mother, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"He'll have no one when I'm gone."

"We run an orphanage," his wife spoke, her voice cruel and cutting, "we can reserve him a space."

Tommy's head snapped towards her, shock written clearly on his features. His wife was many things—sarcastic, witty, clever—but he had never seen her as cruel, not until this very moment.

"No," the boy shouted, getting up from his chair to stand beside his mother. "I won't go to an orphanage."

"You won't, son," Tommy addressed the boy for the fist time. "My wife was just joking."

His wife rolled her eyes, stormed out of the room, muttering a 'fuck you, Thomas' as she passed him on her way to the door.

It was late when Tommy finally entered the bedroom; his wife sat at her vanity, removing her earrings.

"They've finally gone then," she sighed, beginning to unpin her hair. "How much did you give them?"

He ignored her, throwing himself down on the bed and placing a hand over his eyes, doing anything he could to avoid meeting her gaze.

"Thomas," she warned, "how much?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Nothing? They left without a penny?" she scoffed.

"They didn't leave," Tommy snapped, raising his voice and slamming the arm that covered his eyes onto the bed. He groaned as the hairbrush she had thrown hit him in the chest.

"They're still here?" she hissed, standing from the vanity and approaching the bed as Tommy sat up.

"Just listen," he attempted to place his hands on her hips, but she smacked them away, pacing the floor with her hands in her hair. "I am that boy's father, whether we like it or not, I am, alright?"

She shook her head, muttering under her breath as she paced.

"I'm not going to throw him and his sick mother out on the street," he continued. "That's not the man I am, and you know it's not."

"No, your moral compass is a beacon to us all, Tommy," she rolled her eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" he shouted, beginning to lose his temper.

"Not get whores pregnant, for one!" she shouted back, throwing her arms up. "You've betrayed me, Thomas."

"Betrayed?" he repeated, the disbelief evident in his tone. "I didn't know you fucking existed then."

"Well, I still feel betrayed."

Tommy sighed, rising from the bed and approaching his wife the way he would a skittish horse.

"I know, I know," he sighed, placing a hand on her cheek. She didn't resist, though she didn't lean into it either. "It's a fucking mess, and I'm sorry."

She choked out a sob, dropping her head. "It was supposed to be a good day."

"I know," Tommy murmured, moving the hand that was holding her cheek to the back of her neck and pulling her to his chest. "I'm sorry I ruined it."

If only he knew what he had ruined.

The clattering of knives and forks was all that could be heard in the dining room, there were more than ten people sat at the table and it appeared nobody could find a word to speak.

It had been exactly three days since Catherine and Frankie appeared on the Shelby's doorstep, and the tension had only been rising. She had thought she was doing a good job of being civil towards the woman and child who had ruined her life—nodding at them politely when her attempts to avoid them failed, and choking out a 'hello' whenever she ran into them in the corridors.

Tommy had been less than impressed with her attempts to hide from the strangers, and insisted he throw a dinner party to offically introduce his son to the rest of the family, much to his wife's chagrin.

"Lovely lamb," Arthur muttered awkwardly from the other end of the table, his words met with half-hearted murmurs of agreement.

"Frankie loves lamb," Catherine responded, receiving eye rolls from the woman sat beside her, and Polly who was sat opposite.

"How lovely," Polly offered a fake smile.

"I don't eat it a lot, though," Frank spoke from his mother's side. "Lamb's too expensive for mum."

She and Polly sniggered at the boy's words, covering their mouths when Tommy threw them both a glare.

"You enjoy school, Frankie?" John asked.

"It's okay," the boy shrugged. "I'm not very clever, though."

"Takes after his father," Polly muttered, earning a laugh from the man's wife.

"That's not true," Catherine placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "He's a brilliant artist, and loves to read."

"What about you, Catherine?" Polly leaned forward, puffing on her cigarette. "Tell us about yourself."

"Well...I was a secretary until recently, I'm from not far from you..."

"Fascinating," Polly dismissed her.

"Polly," Tommy warned, subtly shaking his head.

"Why don't we take Frankie outside, Tom?" Arthur interrupted. "Show him how to shoot a gun."

"Oh, I don't-" Catherine started, but was interrupted by Polly.

"That's a wonderful idea, leave us ladies to chat."

Catherine conceded, not wanting to offend the older woman more than she already had. The men all left the table, Tommy having to gently drag Frank away from his mother, leaving the three women alone.

"So, Catherine," Polly began as soon as she heard the door close behind the boys. "Are you planning on staying here until you die?"

"Polly," the other woman gasped at her bluntness, but couldn't help but turn her head to Catherine to await the answer. She had been wondering that herself.

"Well, I hadn't thought about it," Catherine laughed awkwardly. "I just...needed to know Frank would be okay."

"He will be," Polly nodded.

"I know, I know that now." Catherine nodded. "Tommy has been very generous." Her eyes flickered to Tommy's wife, sat beside her, the omission in her statement clear.

"You have no other family that could take Frank?" Polly question, and Catherine shook her head, sweat beginning to pool on her forehead.

"No, my mother died when I was about his age, and my dad passed a few years ago. I'm an only child."

"Bless you," there was malice Mrs. Shelby's tone when she finally spoke.

"It must be scary, knowing you're not going to be here for your child. Trusing two strangers to care for him," Polly continued, not noticing Catherine's face getting paler, nor the way her hands shook when she lifted them to rub her head.

"Polly, I don't think she's feeling well," the other woman frowned when she noticed Catherine's body begin to slump in her chair.

"She's fine."

"No," Catherine said. "I'm not, I think I need to lay down."

They called Frances over, instructing them to take Catherine to bed, neither woman standing up from their seats to assist. They watched as Frances struggled to hold up the frail woman's body as she hald carried her out of the dining room.

"She's a fucking good actress," Polly muttered.

Frances returned to the dining room to inform the two women that Catherine had taken a turn, and the doctor would arrive soon to examine her.

Polly sat unaffected by the housekeeper's words; her counterpart's eyes, however, widened in horror.

"Oh my God, Polly," she gasped. "Have we killed her?"

"Oh, shut up," Polly scoffed, stamping out her cigarette in the ashtray. "She was dying before she even got here."

"Polly," she sputtered. "Your interrogation has literally put her in an early grave."

"Oh, because you were treating her splendidly?"

"I was just ignoring her. You've fucking killed her."

The dining room door slammed open. Tommy stood there, his face red, his eyes stormy.

"What did you two fucking do?"

Two days following the dinner party, Catherine's condition had not improved. The doctor had told them that her illness was so advanced that it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Still, she couldn't ignore the guilt that was bubbling in her stomach when she thought about the way she had acted at dinner.

She knocked lightly on the door, opening it gently, careful not to disturb the frail woman that was lying in bed.

"I'm surprised to see you," Catherine choked out, weakly pulling herself into a sitting position.

"I'm surprised too."

"Is there something wrong? Is Frankie okay?"

"Everything's fine," she reassured the woman, moving to sit in the chair beside the bed. "I came to apologise."

She didn't miss the way Catherine's eyebrow's rose.

"The way I've behaved since you arrived has been terrible. I'm not a cruel person, I swear. I was just angry."

"I understand."

She paused, her breath catching in her throat at Catherine's words.

"I would be angry, too, if I were you."

"It doesn't excuse the way I've treated you."

"No," Catherine breathed with a laugh. "But I understand it anyway. You felt like you lost everything in a few minutes, and I was easy to blame."

"I am very sorry," she spoke through the tears in her eyes.

"I am too."

"Well," she coughed, standing from her seat. "I should let you rest."

Catherine called her name when her hand was on the doorhandle, and she turned to look at the sick woman.

"Look after Frankie, please," she said, her voice weak and teary. "He's a sensitive boy. Please look after him, and love him, love him as much as the child in your belly."

"How did you know?"

"I had the same mood swings when I was pregnant," she said. Both women let out a small laugh.

"I promise to look after him... and to love him like my own."

"Thank you."

She approached Tommy, who was leaning in Frankie's doorway, quietly observing the boy as he slept peacefully. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back. Tommy jumped in surprise before reaching to hold his wife's hands, which were clasped around his stomach.

"You'll be a good father," she spoke into his back.

"Just wish it didn't happen like this," Tommy mumbled. "It should have been you and me."

"It will be," she promised. "You, me, Frankie, and the baby."

Tommy unclasped her hands, turning to face her, a frown on his face.

"You're..."

"I am."

Tommy's expression softened as he processed the news, a mixture of surprise and tenderness crossing his features.

"You're pregnant," Tommy breathed, his voice filled with a mix of astonishment and wonder. He pulled her close again, holding her tightly against him. "We're having a baby."

She nodded against his chest, feeling his heart beat faster beneath her ear. "Yes, Tommy."

Tommy pressed a kiss to the top of her head, overwhelmed with emotions. "I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you and I'm so fucking sorry."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him back, her eyes landing on the boy asleep in the bed.

Catherine's funeral service was small. There weren't many people close to the woman, the majority of the mourners being the Shelby family.

Frankie didn't say much the whole day, he just stood at his mother's grave, an empty look in his eyes that she recognised all too well.

They arrived home in silence, Frankie jumping out of the car as soon as it pulled up in front of the house, running inside before anyone could stop him.

"He just needs time," she told her husband, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," Tommy agreed. He was no stranger to death, nor the solemn emptiness that came after.

She knocked on Frankie's door later that evening, popping her head in to see him sat on the carpet, still in his suit from the funeral.

"I'm just checking in," she offered him a small smile, kneeling down beside him on the floor. "How are you feeling?"

Frankie shrugged in response, his eyes downcast.

"It's okay if you want to cry, there's no shame in it."

"I don't want to cry," his voice shook, "I just want my mum."

"Oh, sweetheart," she breathed out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know you do."

He didn't respond, he just kept his gaze pinned to the blue carpet beneath him.

"I lost my mum too, you know?" she said. Frankie's eyes snapped to hers for a moment, then snapped back down. "She died when I was a bit older than you. She got sick and died a few weeks later; there was nothing anyone could do."

"Do you miss her?" Frankie asked, turning to face her.

"Every day," she told him, "it doesn't get easier. You just learn to live with it. And then, someday, you'll be able to think about her and your time together, and it won't hurt so much. But you'll always miss your mum."

Frankie's lips pinched together in thought, and he nodded, accepting her ineloquent words greatfully.

"I know I haven't been very nice to you," she said. "But we're a family, and if you ever want to talk about her, you can come to me, and I'll listen."

"Okay."

"Okay," she rose from the floor.

"I'm sorry about your mum," Frankie said once she was standing.

"I'm sorry about yours," she replied, offering him one last smile before leaving the room.

Elsie Catherine Shelby was born in the early hours of the morning. She came quickly and was less fussy than other babies, according to the midwife.

Her big brother was excited to meet her, pacing the bottom of the stairs until the midwife allowed him to enter the room, a smile on his face as he greeted his little sister with glee.

"I'm not an only child anymore," he had laughed, poking the infant's cheek gently.

And just like that, the Shelby family welcomed their newest member.

[mcumorningstar]

A Rose By Any Other Name || Part Three

part one part two

series pairing: tommy shelby x reader, hints of john shelby x reader, hints of tommy x lizzie

warnings: 18+ minors dni, implied rape (the aftermath so no detail), mild violence, typical peaky blinders content

summary: After a change of plans, you find yourself wondering why Tommy invited you to the Epsom Derby at all.

author’s note: I wanted to include the Shelby’s gypsy roots (however brief) but I do apologise for any inaccuracies. I have started a taglist for this series so let me know if you want to be kept updated :)

Tommy banged on your door late on Friday. At first, you worried you slept in but it was still dark outside. Slightly drunk, he walked through the threshold without an invite and leaned against the wall in the kitchen.

“I’ve got business in London,” Tommy’s deep voice rumbled in the dark of your house, “You’re to get the train to Epsom with Polly tomorrow at 9.”

“Polly?!” Your eyes widened and Tommy whispered, “Easy, ey, she can smell fear.”

An amused scoff escaped your lips. Tommy Shelby just made a joke. The pleasant rumble of his laughter softened your nerves. Tommy may be the devil by reputation but the man stood in your kitchen was... different.

“What’s in London?” It was a risk to ask but he was in a mood you’ve never seen before. There was a playfulness to his usual self.

“Arthur. Arthur is in London. May I smoke?”

You nodded and he lit a cigarette. Eyes trained to his every move, he was a vision in your humble living space as smoke fell from his lips.

“I’ll come find you tomorrow,” He pointed at you with his cigarette between two fingers and licked his lips, “You owe me a drink, remember?”

Failing to conceal a smirk, you raised your eyebrows at him and he turned to go, the shadow of a smile on his lips. You haven’t even fucked him and you were starting to understand Lizzie’s infatuation with him. He was unlike any man you’ve ever met.

The Epsom Derby was a magnificent spectacle; people with more money than sense flocked in the masses to the grand occasion. Everyone was in the best clothes, ready to indulge in a long day of drinking, dancing and gambling.

Alongside you, Polly strutted around the place as if she was King George himself and you meekly followed, taking in the extravagant sites.

“Chin up,” Polly grinned around her cigarette as you walked through the Derby, “Don’t let these bastards think they’re better than you. You’re a Blinder today.”

Lost for words, you accepted that fate and wondered if Tommy told her why you were there. From her statement, he must need you for a business dealing but that still didn’t make sense.

Why would he require your amateur assistance on one of the most important days of his career?

Stopping by a white fence, Polly scoped the area. Racehorses were displayed on the other side of the fence, trotting by with their trainers holding the reins.

Among the crowd, you spotted Tommy as he rushed down a set of steps with a blond woman in white and pink. A risky colour to wear in a field. Was that May Carlton, the posh horse trainer Lizzie told you about?

“Are you going to lay a bet, y/n?” Polly asked cheerfully, although her eyes scanned the crowds in search of something, or someone.

“I’ve never gambled before,” You realised, making Polly laugh, “But why not start at the most prestigious gambling event in England?”

She smirked at that and looked over at you, “I see why he likes you.”

An inaudible sound fell from your mouth as you struggled with what to say. What did she mean by that?

“Oh there’s Lizzie and Jeremiah,” Polly pointed to the pair as they walked through the crowd.

Panic rose in your chest, pulling at your lungs until a sharp gasp fought the taut struggle for air. Polly turned to look at you, sizing you up.

“Lizzie doesn’t know I’m here.”

Polly rose her eyebrows at that, amused by how boringly ridiculous it was.

Sighing you looked over to Lizzie, “She can’t know Tommy invited me. I don’t why he did and I can’t have her thinking there’s something going on. And I could hardly say no to the devil himself.”

“I think this is the most women my nephew has ever juggled at once,” Polly sounded a little impressed, “He has his father’s devilment. Lizzie’s a fool if she hasn’t realised it yet.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and listened to her. Tommy looked around fruitlessly before heading up the stairs with Lizzie a few steps behind.

Jeremiah disappeared into the crowd again before Polly called his name. The man approached with a warm smile.

“Jeremiah, this is y/n. I’ve some business to attend to so would you be kind enough to accompany her? You can look away when she lays her bet,” Polly addressed him but kept a comforting hand against your shoulder.

“Right this way,” Jeremiah smiled, gesturing through the crowd. Polly squeezed your arm and disappeared in the opposite direction. Jeremiah was a preacher, a friendly one at that, and so your nerves were at ease as you walked to your seats.

The race started and finished before you saw anybody else. Police officers left their posts and swarmed like flies on shit.

Now things started to make sense. The Blinders were burning other bookies’ gambling licenses, eliminating the competition. More money and business for the Shelby’s.

Bypassing the hysteria of the police and the indifference of the toffs, you made your way to the bar.

The blonde woman in pink and white stood by the bar in a heated conversation with a woman in red. Are these the women Polly joked were being juggled?

Abort, abort!

As the bar was off-limits, you redirected yourself to find John or Arthur. Surely they’ll know where the man who invited you was.

Sitting at a rickety table was the two Shelby brothers and Lizzie. Her glassy eyes caught you before you saw her.

“Y/n?” Her voice was weak and her hair fell in front of her face. A cigarette hung from her fingers, hands shaking as she held it to her lips.

Arthur’s thunderous voice, fuelled by the cocaine he was lining up, overpowered Lizzie’s meekness.

“What you doing here?”

Fuck it. Lizzie’s seen you now.

“Ask your brother,” You took a seat, “Fuck knows why, haven’t seen him all day.”

Lizzie glanced across the table at you, her head hung low but her eyes now fixed on you. A croaky gasp caught in her throat and a wave of sobs spilled from her.

“Lizzie?” You dragged your chair beside her and rubbed her back, “Lizzie, what’s happened?”

Sitting closer, you could see a bruise was forming on her cheek and a bloody scrape stretched across her forehead.

John leaned over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest against your back, “She was working. Caught a nasty toff. We’ll get her home safe.”

His face was so close to yours as your head snapped towards him in shock. Genuine sympathy was in his eyes and a soft smile graced his lips.

“But-“ You began before Lizzie cut you off, her voice thick with tears, “It’s fine.”

Your brows pulled together as you watched her wipe her wet cheeks. Lizzie didn’t whore anymore. Her only exception was Tommy.

“Is he here?” You turned to John, who shrugged with a mouth full of whiskey. Sighing and silently seething, you helped Lizzie to her feet, “Let’s get you home.”

As if she was in a daze, she complied and she didn’t speak another word for the rest of the day.

Once John and Arthur dropped you off at home, Thelma helped you get Lizzie to bed. Her wide eyed stare bore into you, “What happened, y/n?”

But you didn’t have time to explain. Lizzie was in safe hands and you had a man to find. From the limited time you’ve known Thomas Shelby, he was entirely focused on business and, after an event like the Epsom Derby, you knew exactly where he’d be.

Dusk had long settled and the danger of Small Heath loomed over you but it wasn’t long before you stormed into Shelby Company Ltd.

The double doors to Tommy’s office were wide open, as he and Michael toasted a whiskey. In a fit of rage, you marched right towards him.

“Y/n?” Michael asked, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked between you and Tommy. Your eyes didn’t waver from Tommy, grabbing the lapels of his coat and shoving him against his desk. His glass tumbler fell from his hand and hit the wooden floor with a thud.

The open palm of your right hand met his cheek, clipping at his ear too. So swift and firm that his head shot to the side.

Shaking him, you demanded, “What did you do?! She can barely fucking speak!”

You slapped him again and shoved at his chest. It was nothing compared to his past pains, you knew that, but you didn’t care. Tommy grabbed your wrists and you were powerless to stop him. He simply held you there as you struggled in his grip.

Michael put his glass down and approached you with his hands in front of him, like he was trying to calm an angry bear.

“Y/n-“ Michael started but Tommy spoke, keeping his eyes on yours, “Leave us.”

Michael nodded and hesitantly left you alone. You stopped struggling, almost collapsing into Tommy’s chest at the exhaustion of the past few hours.

“Is that why you invited me?”

It was out there now. A question you didn’t know if you wanted to know the answer to.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” He screwed his eyes shut and met yours again, “The path was blocked off for the King. I got there as soon as I could.”

He was telling the truth. Genuine remorse.

“Is that why you invited me?” You repeated with a sign, resigned to your fate.

Tommy let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around your waist. As soon as his hands landed on your back, you shoved them off and stepped back.

“You,” You spluttered at his nerve, “You seriously think that’s appropriate for this conversation? I’m not going to be another woman on the roster.”

“Ey?”

“The woman in pink and white? Was that May or was that another woman at your beck and call? Lizzie’s on there too but rule me out,” The finality of your statement crumbled slightly as you caught his eyes.

Tommy cleared his throat and, when you crossed your arms over your chest, he sighed and said, “I dreamt of a deer, walking along Garrison Lane. The next night I met you.”

“I don’t..?”

“Polly says a deer in a dream is a good omen. That gentleness and innocence will cross your path.”

“Are you suggesting the deer meant me?” Your jaw was slack as you tried to grasp what he was saying. Tommy tilted his head to one side in a non-committal display of likelihood.

“But I’m a whore and I slammed a door in your face.”

“Polly is rarely wrong.”

Tommy reached for you and pulled you closer once again. You weren’t touching but you could feel the warmth emanating from him. Calloused hands cupped your face and blue eyes held you hostage in his gaze.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that and you were never going to be involved.”

Foolish as it may be, you believed him.

Dried blood spread across his temple caught your attention, “You’re bleeding Tommy.”

He brushed it off as your fingers delicately held his face to inspect the cut. It wasn’t deep but you kept your eyes trained to it as you spoke again.

“Why did you invite me?” Another bold question you were scared of knowing the answer to. A man like Tommy Shelby wasn’t accustomed to being questioned.

“You’re my good omen. We took Epsom,” A soft smile graced his lips, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone, making you meet his dizzying stare.

You were speechless. The Shelby’s are a gypsy family so his superstitions made sense, but is he sweet on you because of the dream or is this rooted entirely in his superstition?

Rendered a fool by his bright eyes and soft touch, you asked, “Who were the other women?”

Tommy pursed his lips, “Nobody worth your time.”

“If I’m gonna be your good omen, I need to know the truth,” You said softly, resting your hands on his stomach. Tommy fought a smile, wrapping his large hands around your biceps.

“May trains my horse. She deserves better than me,” Tommy’s voice rumbled lowly between you, “The woman in white and pink, is Grace. She’s married, sailing back to New York with her rich husband.”

There was resentment behind his words. Interesting that she returned to him now that he’s rich.

“She said she loves me, not him.”

Standing there in his office, between his legs as he sits on the edge of his desk, you wondered how many others had been in this position. How many women were weak to Tommy Shelby?

“So why is she sailing away?” Your fingers idly fiddled with the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Because I told her to,” Tommy was no longer touching you, his hands busy lighting a cigarette.

“You don’t love her?”

Tommy gave a short laugh at that, “She’s of the past. I do not concern myself with matters of the past.”

“Maybe if she’d been in your dreams..” You teased, hoping his guard was lowered around you. Tommy laughed, his blue eyes glistening, and pulled you closer, “You may be my good omen but don’t push it.”

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, securing you in place. A tension lingered in the silence between you and Tommy’s gaze drifted to your lips.

You were here to punish him, to hurt him for hurting Lizzie. Poor Lizzie… and you were here, a devilish smile and a compliment away from letting Tommy Shelby kiss you. What were you thinking?

Breaking you out of your stupor, you blurted, “I should go.”

Like Icarus and the sun, your resolve began to melt away. Tommy rose to his feet, your bodies now pressed against each other.

“I’ll drive you,” Was all he said.

Taglist

@sherbitdibdab

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RUNAWAY FROM ME - CHAPTER 1

Pairing - Tommy Shelbly x oc

Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.

Warnings - Dark content, noncon, dub con, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.

Word count - 5.2k+

Notes - First chapter complete woohoo. Thoughts highly appreciated. And let me know if I should make a tag list.

CHAPTER 1

Arrow House, Warwickshire - Morning, July 23rd 1924

She was in his dreams. Or as he believed to be nightmares. Teasing him of her immaculate beauty that he so desperately longed to forget. In Tommy’s visions, he was running after her, chasing her like his life depended on it. But she was running in slow motion, the way that her silk brunette hair bounced in line with her steps. But Tommy could feel his heart pound in his chest, his throat dry as he was panting after her. So desperately trying to catch up to her. Right when he’d think he’d finally catch her, the light would shine brightly and she’d disappear. 

Every morning, Tommy woke up alone. He laid there, only for a few minutes reflecting on his inner demons conjured in his sleep. Every morning, he woke to the torturous hardness in his lower region. However, he refused to touch himself, refused to pleasure himself in the memory of her. 

It all started in the hospital. Tommy thought he was dead. All because he saw her charm, the sight that he had longed for, even after all of these years. She looked like an angel, her luscious hair rested on her shoulders as her light brown eyes blinked to him. His body missed her, but his mind, oh how it still despised her. That’s how he knew he wasn’t dead. Because he didn’t feel that warmth to see her again, to think of her. 

Somehow, she pushed him through his recovery. This urge to want to heal so he could finally take the journey to find her. In his hallucinations, he was back in the tunnels, face covered in dirt and smoke as he was crawling in hopes to finally reach her. Tommy heard her call his name down the hole. As if she needed him to save her. In his sleep, he called her name over and over again. “Deirdre…” It left him a desperate man who took morphine to numb his thoughts rather than his physical trauma. 

Tommy sat on the edge of his king size bed, his fingernails ran through his scalp, brushing over his healing stitches as he mumbled to himself, shaking his head lightly. He stood up and looked out the window, across the greenery of his estate. 

His wife had been shot. She took a fucking bullet for him. Tommy was still grieving, everyone knew so but wouldn’t dare to speak a word to him. There was no one else Tommy blamed but himself, his lifestyle killed a good woman, the mother to his only child. A woman that made him feel like a better person. Somebody that made him forget of his past affection, which was a dagger dug deep into his back. 

And how was he mourning her now? By getting fucking hard by his vex. By the woman that broke him, changed him into a monster that many now fear. She destroyed his happiness, and now he wished to never feel such emotion again. The woman that was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She was the only person that Tommy showed his complete vulnerability to, he gave her all that he had, and how did she fucking repay him? Everytime he thought of her, it urged his desires to make her atone for her failures to honor him. 

Tommy changed into his suit and headed downstairs into his office as he slid his pistol into his holster. Polly was sitting by his desk, a cup of hot tea in hand as she turned her head to him. 

“Polly, what brings you here?” Tommy asked as he reached his desk for some forms in the draw. 

“Just checking up on you Tommy” she replied, a content look on her face.   

Tommy hummed with a nod as he stood behind his desk. He debated if he should tell Polly of his dreams, wondering if she’d be able to help him. But the thought of mentioning her name again, after all of these years lit the cold hearth in his body. 

Polly gave him a knowing look and Tommy couldn’t help but to mentally grin. He slid the papers inside of his pocket. 

“I’m dreaming of the past Polly” Tommy disclosed emotionlessly. 

A raise of the eyebrow. “Which past?”

His stern expression didn’t flinch at her act. “You know what I’m speaking of” Tommy responded as he lit himself a cigarette. 

“Yes, I do” Polly confessed. 

“Well?” 

“She’s always been by your side Tommy, even though you turn your head from her. Keep your ears blocked from her cries” Polly sighed, looking hopeful in his doubts. 

“Because she so ever deserves my help” Tommy empathized, shaking his head. “She distracts me. Weakens me in my most vulnerable state. Why Pol?” Tommy asked, leaning towards her, his hands on his hips. 

Why did she come back to haunt him so menacfully now? After all of this time, why did she choose to torment him when he has so much on the line? For his business, his family, his future, his son. A part of Tommy hoped that she was dead. But feared that he would never be satisfied if he couldn’t find her. 

“Perhaps she needs you” Polly suggested, a slight shrug of the shoulders. The thought of Tommy doing such an act angered him.

“Fucking-” Tommy muttered, shaking his head at the thought of her.

“Where are you going?” She inquired. 

“To London. My brothers and I feel an urge to celebrate my recovery. It is our last night of freedom before we bury ourselves into this job” Tommy explained as he walked out of the room. “And tell her to get out of my fucking head!” Tommy shouted, shaking his head at the thought of her. 

“Perhaps you’ll be able to say it to her yourself” Polly mumbled to herself, sipping on her tea as she listened to the voices in her head. 

Oh how he hated her, the woman that he loved, but never actually knew. The one that split his soul in half. 

But after this last job, the security of a new life. Tommy would finally look for her, he would get her with the catchpole no matter where she was, no matter who she was. It was time for Tommy to kill his repressions which his last ounce of humanity discouraged himself from doing. 

Kensington, London - Almost midnight, July 22rd 1924 

Unphased, that’s how Deirdre looked in the backseat of the cab even though her thoughts were screaming. Her fingers played with each other as she noticed the driver looking at her through the mirror. Almost there, just a few more minutes, a couple more streets to turn down. All of the streets were dark and empty, Deirdre’s tired eyes blinked as the car rolled up to the address. She quickly paid the fee and exited the vehicle, the street lamp lit by the familiar berkshire bricked Edwardian house. 

It was late, too late for visitors but Deirdre felt too on edge to book a room. She didn’t know where could be trusted anymore, where was safe, her face was recognised in the high ends and targeted in the low. Deirdre held onto her small luggage bag in one hand and brushed back her silky brunette hair with the other. 

Deirdre was on the run, again. She had lost track of how many times she’s done it now. But she knew that this time, there was no mercy if she was caught. There was no forgiveness if she dared to go back to beg for it. The acts she had committed would result in nothing but a brutal death. Not even her father would excuse her behavior. She needed to be free, far away from the British lands. Deirdre dreamt of the sun and warmth in California. It could be a fresh start, a new life, the welcoming of peace and freedom.  

It wasn’t a guaranteed welcome when she rang the doorbell. It had been a few years since their eventful last encounter. They could have easily relocated somewhere else. But Deirdre had no other safe haven. The front porch returned to silence as Deirdre waited patiently. She saw the hallway light bright up through bay box sash windows. 

The door creaked open, Emily’s green eyes poked through the crack of the door. Deirdre sighed out and dropped her head in relief. The door opened wide as Emily looked her up and down, dressed up in her night robe and her blonde hair tied up into a bun. It took a moment for Emily to recognise her. 

“Deirdre! Why- What?” Emily was lost for words as she pulled her inside, safe from the chilly air.

Deirdre dropped her luggage onto the ground and embraced her intensely. The first sign of care that she had gotten in the past few months. As she blinked back her tears, Deirdre shuddered against her friend. But quickly straightened her posture and plastered a mask on her face. 

“Come, come. Sit down, I will make us some tea” Emily ordered politely. 

Deirdre was led into the reception room and Emily helped her slip off her overcoat and hung it on the hook. Her eyes looked around the room, Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel slightly envious of the family portraits on the wall. However, this silence was tranquil. 

Deidre sat on the two seater couch with her legs crossed over as she anxiously patted her hair. She adjusted her cream corsetless dress and tugged down at her sleeves. Emily walked over with tea, a small hopeful smile on her lips as she poured the boiling liquid into her aynsley teacup. Deirdre looked out the window, the moonlight shone through the sheers. 

“It’s been forever” Emily acknowledged as she poured the tea into her own teacup.

“It has” Deirdre replied politely, her southern Irish accent still as strong as Emily remembered. 

They spoke quietly, Emily’s young children were asleep in the other rooms. But also because Deirdre felt on edge that there were ears in the walls. 

“A part of me never expected to see you here again” Emily hesitantly admitted, her eyebrows jumping at the memory of the last time she saw her.

“Yes, I certainly thought the same” Deirdre retorted as she sipped on her tea.

There was a silence as Emily waited for Deirdre to spill her guts. But Deirdre was holding back, because if she cracked, the great deal of her despair would crash down her masquerade.   

“I apologize for arriving so late, and without notice. Is Max home?” Deirdre raised an eyebrow. 

“Work in Germany” Emily nodded. “There is no need to apologize, I promised you a safe spot and I’m glad that you’re here” she assured gently.  “Will you be staying for long?” Emily asked.

No she will not be. Deirdre needed to be far from London as soon as she could. Her husband never knew the depths of their friendship, the arrogant bastard hardly remembered her name, but if he was to become suspicious of her whereabouts, Deirdre needed to be gone without a trace. 

“Just for the night” Deirdre promised. “I merely needed some advice” she nodded. 

“Which is?” Emily asked nervously.   

“I need to do something, in order to free myself from this life. I could only gather so much on such short notice. All I know is how to run with nothing and it’s always gotten me caught. I need to figure out a way to get ahead” Deirdre explained, the steam of the tea warmed her cold lips. 

Emily hummed and set her tea down on the table. She was an honest woman, who married an honest man and they lived an honest life. However, Emily wasn’t always honest, she was clever in her acts, a true damsel in distress when needed be. 

Deirdre sighed heavily and blinked her weary eyes. “I’m tired Emily, so, so tired. I cannot rest, I cannot live. My body can only take so much. If my life of burden is not taken by another, I fear I will do it myself” Deirdre promised, her expression dry of humor. 

“I can-”

“No” Deirdre cut her off, her hand raised in warning. 

“Max would have-”

“No” Deirdre reinforced. “Being here already makes me feel guilty and nervous enough. I need to be gone within the next day. He will be coming for me if he is already not” Deirdre elucidated, her expression stern but her eyes showed how terrified she truly was. 

Emily sighed and batted her lashes. 

“Eden Club, no Scots or Irish are ever seen there. Most are rich, harmless travelers from America” Emily recommended. “Many are easily charmed by the native beauty” she added. 

“Who owns it?” Deirdre asked cautiously. 

“Ah-” Emily wondered, her fingers tapping on her chin. “Some Italian gangster, Sabini I recall” Emily confirmed, remembering the sight of the man on her spontaneous night a few years ago. “I will be able to get you some powder in the morning” Emily said. “Just be cautious who you choose” she raised her finger to her. Deirdre hummed and finished her tea. 

Shortly after, Emily led her to the guest bedroom and bidded her goodnight. As she stripped to change into her nightwear, Deirdre stared at the large bruise across her outer right thigh through the mirror. Accompanied by the many scars and small bruises all over her small fragile body. 

She crawled into the bed, her body immediately falling asleep but her eyes stayed awake. Her ears could hear the clock’s hands tick on the wall and her heart thud in her chest. All whilst she stared at the door, awaiting for someone to open it. 

When Deirdre finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, she saw her brute of a husband chasing after her. She was running across an open field, but he was hot on her tail. Deirdre’s heart was in her throat as she heard his brutal voice call out to her, to summon her back to him. But Deirdre wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. Refused to submit to him ever again. 

As she tripped on the ground, her body was flipped over and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Where did he come from? The warmth on his cheeks still looked the same after all of this time. A lopsided smile on his lips accompanied by his crinkles around those ocean blue eyes. 

His face was angelic, but she felt his claws dig into her shoulders. She squirmed underneath him, cried out for anyone to save her, but he was dragging her down the grass which had turned into the dirt roads of Small Heath by her ankles. Her body twisted over, her hands digging into the gravel, crying for salvation, for mercy. But she knew that she had to pay for her crimes against him. 

When Deirdre woke up from her nightmare, her body shot up as she was panting for air. She had forgotten about the man that she once loved. Yes, she heard his name at times in conversation, but they lived in different worlds. She always knew she was safe from ever crossing paths with him, her family would never dare to do business with him, nor go against him. 

The last she heard was his wife taking a bullet for him, her husband laughed and asked her if she’d do the same for him. But if she had the choice, she’d be the one to fire the gun at him, her dear husband. 

But to dream of him, after all of these years. Tonight of all nights. He was a changed man, ruthless, heartless, barbaric. It made Deirdre feel sick to her stomach, she ran to the ensuite and threw up in the toilet. As she flushed the toilet and washed out her mouth in the bassinet, Deirdre plodded back to the bed and laid stiffly. 

He was planted in her thoughts now, she needed to get out of London. Fearing that another wolf had picked up her scent and was ready to catch her like she was the helpless lamb in the field.  

Soho, London - Evening, July 23rd 1924

Tommy saw her stand on the straight wide road. The beaming sun warmed his pale skin as he studied her. He walked to her slowly, her back towards him as she wore a white dress. It was quiet, he felt the wind blow gently and heard his calm breathing. 

As he stood directly behind her, his hands brushed over her shoulder, up to the back of her neck. Tommy gently pushed her soft hair to the side as he pressed his mouth to her ear. He heard her breathe out, her body relaxed back up against his as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Tommy…” she whispered. 

Tommy woke from his light sleep when Arthur and John bursted into the hotel room, bottles of expensive champagne in their hands and foul words dripping from their lips. There was a confident smirk on his lips, he sat up on the made bed and brushed over his suit, still fully dressed. They were pulling out the champagne glasses and popping open the bottles. 

Without a word, he headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Tommy stared at himself in the mirror, his blue eyes wide and jaw stern. Arthur and John could be heard clearly, drinking piss and smelling snow, ready for their big night. 

“I feel you with me” Tommy breathed out slowly, his eyes shut. “Oh, how fate wants us together again. It demands you pay for your crimes against me” He sighed softly. “And I’d be a fool if I showed you leniency” he swore. 

Arthur banged his hands on the door. With a heavy blink, Tommy opened the door and gladly accepted the glass in hand. Through one gulp, the glass was empty. The brothers cheered Tommy on and quickly refilled his glass. 

They were oblivious to the thoughts that dripped out of Tommy’s mind. No one ever really knew what he was thinking of. He was an enigma, so difficult to analyze, purely emotionlessly at many critical times. Everyone always thought that Tommy never really cared about anything anymore, since the war, except for his business. 

Arthur wrapped his slender arms around his brothers and pulled them in close. “One last night as brothers, eh John? Eh Tom?” Arthur asked, a gleeful smile on his lips. 

“Of course brother” John nodded in content. 

“I feel this night will be one to remember” Tommy acknowledged and looked to his brothers dramatically.

"What is it Tommy?" John frowned with Arthur's expression following.

Tommy breathed deeply and nodded his head. "I've been dreaming of the past, and I dreamt of a wide straight road with the woman of my past standing right in middle of it. I feel her with me, she calls my name on this night" Tommy confessed.   

Eden Club, Soho - Night, 23rd July 1924

One drink, two, three, four? Deirdre lost count on how many drinks she allowed this American lawyer to purchase her. The plan was to get him knocked out, not her. She needed to slow herself down, the eagerness to rob him blind had her high on alderline. The thrill of breaking free, running away for good was too much for her mind, emotions and body to handle. 

She had been throwing up all day. Every second she wasted brought her husband a step closer to her. The powder was hidden in her purse and Emily was correct. It wasn’t hard to seduce an American. Jack was assertive, clearly up himself. He had daddy's money to lean on anyways, he had security. She did not. 

It was hard to hear any form of conversation over the jazz music echoing around the walls. As her eyes darted around, she saw everyone was either intoxicated or high on the sweet melodies. Nobody was watching her, Emily was right, she was safe. 

Deirdre’s fingers traced around the rim of the martini glass as the melodies calmed her nerves. The conversation Jack made was muffled, Deirdre’s mind miles away from reality. His hand brushed through his blonde hair as his eyes undressed her. 

Deirdre truly was a sight for sore eyes. If she was on the streets, people would stare. That did not please her husband. The many that knew of his nature, forced themselves to look away. Hearing the many tales of what happened if he felt a slight bit of jealousy. A need to ensure ownership over her.  

The navy silk v neck dress curved her petite body perfectly. A parting gift from Emily, a token of good fortune. Only time would tell if Deirdre still had it in her. If her confidence had not been completely broken. She felt the pearl necklace, she'd sell it as soon as she was free.

Jack leant over to her, a seductive look in his dark brown eyes. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it made her feel nauseous. “Later, I want to bring you back to my suite, and fuck you all night” he confessed, a confident smirk on his lips. 

Drunken men were always foul. Focused on the outside of a woman and did not care to know who she was. He hadn’t asked a single question about her all night. But that made it easier for her, faded her upcoming guilt.   “Jack my darling, you haven’t even asked me for a dance yet” Deirdre teased with a toothy grin.

“Oh, there will be plenty of dances, Cassidy” he promised, his arm snaking around her back. 

A simple alias just for Deirdre’s comfort. Deirdre chuckled as she watched him finish his glass, she needed him to only have a couple more. Then she’d politely accept his invitation over, suggest one finally drink and slip in the powder. It would all be over before midnight. She’d catch the overnight train to Liverpool and board the boat to America by the end of tomorrow. 

The band came to a sudden stop, the audience’s heads turned towards the three men that strode through the dining. All three of them wore peaked caps with large overcoats as they walked tall. They approached the stage and Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel her heart thud harder in her chest as this suspicious tingle crawled over her skin with her light brown eyes glued onto the men that felt too familiar. Deirdre’s heart froze when the man in front came to clear sight as he took off his cap, revealing his harsh undercut styled brunette hair.  

Thomas Shelby. 

Her face went numb when his pale hands wrapped around the microphone, ears clogged as his words fell deaf yet she remembered the sound of his deep, captivating voice perfectly. The two other men, which she quickly recognised to be his brothers, Arthur and John, stood with their chests puffed out, arms locked across shoulders and stern expressions. 

Deirdre’s heart pounded in her chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. Even though her head was frozen in line to his speech, her eyes were darting around, already planning her escape. The room was full, surely his blue eyes would not be able to point her out in the depths of the occupied round tables. Let alone recognise her after all of these years. 

How could she have been so foolish? The massive city of London had never felt smaller than tonight. She had heard his name many times and every time it felt like a stab in the heart. He had made a name for himself, built an empire in that fire and brimstone city. Just like he always said he would. Her father and dear husband already hated him, gypsy bastard. Every day she prayed for their obliviousness to her heavy past with him.

It felt like her soul was pulled out of her body when his blue eyes landed on her. His mouth fell ajar open as his long lashes batted, head gently tilting to the left as he acknowledged her, remembering her thoroughly. The brothers noticed his pause and looked towards her as well, she couldn’t help but to cower slightly. The rest of the room was oblivious to the stare off between him and her. 

“And now, shall we dance?” He suggested it in a slow and challenging manner. One hand snapped to que towards the band and the other gestured towards his brothers.  

The sounds of jazz roared against the walls as everyone abruptly stood up. A deer caught in headlights, that’s how Deirdre felt at first. As she watched him walk down the stage, his eyes still on her. The brothers were already out of her sight. 

She snapped back to reality when Jack’s fingers traced over her bare shoulder. Deidre gulped hard as she quickly stood up, nervously brushing through her dark loose brunette hair. 

“Sorry, I, I suddenly don't feel too well” Deirdre admitted, which was actually a lie, but the implication went in the opposite direction. 

“Nonsense! I haven’t even gotten a single dance with you yet” Jack acclaimed with a charming smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

Her eyes shot towards the stage, he’s gone. 

“I’m so sorry, I really must go” Deidre quickly spoke, her voice trembling as she yanked herself out of his grasp. 

She heard him rebut, however she was already heading straight towards the large doors as she zigzagged through the crowd. Unfortunately, her poorly planned escape route had quickly soiled, she spotted Arthur and John standing on opposite sides of the exit. They were always loyal pawns in his game. There was a pause in her movements as her eyes shot around, her body covered in pins and needles. 

She’d escape through the workers quarters. But as she turned in a hasty measure, her small body smacked into another. The arms that she had felt years before wrapped around her possessively as he steadied her stance. There was no doubt who it was, no hope for it to be another. 

“My dearest Deirdre, my sight has declined; however, my eyes will never fail to spot your beauty. May I have this dance?” Tommy asked with a stern expression but soft voice, head tilted down towards her as she kept her eyes on the floor. 

The coat he wore was gone, and she could easily feel his muscular frame hidden underneath the button up shirt, not to mention the pistol in his holster. His cold hand lifted her chin and their eyes locked. As she blinked slowly, her eyes glistering, she bit on her tongue. Tommy waited patiently for her next move. 

Show no fear. 

“If I knew that the Eden Club was in your possession I would have steered clear. We can pretend that you never saw me” Deidre negotiated confidently but her front failed when her body shook against his. 

Tommy laughed loudly as his arm around her waist tightened in a proprietorial manner. 

“Unfortunately we have unfinished business, you and I” Tommy replied coldly. 

“Please, surely you haven't held onto those emotions for all of these years” Deirdre chuckled presumptuously as she tried to push their bodies apart without gaining attention.   

Tommy grunted at her words and dragged her to the dance floor, his fingers dug into her upper arms. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene here. But then she’s heard many tales of him, the beast that he had become when he returned from the war.

“You’re in a considerable debt with me, my love. One that you thought would fade if you merely ran” Tommy growled. 

“I can get you your money” she winced at the sharp pain, not like it would even mean anything to him with how much his businesses bring in these days. When they passed through the crowded floor, she realized that he was leading her out of the lounge. 

“If you think your debt is based around money, are you still that naive girl from all of those years ago, eh?” Tommy smirked as he kicked open the double doors which led them into the kitchen. 

It was now or never. Deirdre shoved him away with full force and scrambled through the busy kitchen as she nearly fell over in her heels as she broke free. All eyes were on them but no one dared to move a finger in the wrong direction. As she roughly pushed past everyone, she tried to remain calm. 

Tommy grinned at the girl who loved to run. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed for the both of them, her heart was pounding immensely as she panted in her heels. The first door she took led her to a hallway, the open exit to the streets on her right was blocked by two working men. Cigarettes in their lips as they watched her intimately, she bolted to the left. 

The next door she took, she didn’t consider analyzing, she locked herself in the small dark room which appeared to be an office. The moonlight shined through the sash window which she yanked up and looked down to the small drop, survivable but not without two broken heels. As Deidre laid her hands on the windowsill, her head snapped back as she heard the door unlock from the other side. There was no other option besides hiding. Deirdre found herself hidden underneath the wooden Lombardo desk. It was human instinct to cower, pray that she’d be able to run from her past demons.

The weighty door creaked open, and she heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet. Tommy pulled out a cigarette, the end of the stick brushed in between his lips as he lit it. “Oh Deirdre, my dearest” Tommy spoke loudly, his tone dripping of sarcasm, which made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Why do you run? Why do you hide? From me of all people? You seemed to have forgotten the vows you swore your life on. The promises which are still owed to me. You ignorantly believed that fate would keep us apart? Oh but haven’t you heard the tales of the Peaky Blinder Devil?” Tommy spoke, his footsteps slowly approached her. 

The thuds in her chest were painful, her throat felt like the cold air around her was strangling her. He could hear her heavy breathing and chuckled silently. The Colt M1911 is pulled from his holster and he ensured that she heard the safety click off. 

“Once upon a time there was a boy. Who foolishly fell for a girl with a secretive past. They created a life as one. He protected her from the pure evils in this cruel world and how did she repay him? She robbed him blind. She ran from the boy that she loved and turned his soul black. She created the Devil of Birmingham. And tonight, the runaway has tripped over her bad deeds” Tommy teased as he leisurely approached her. 

With a turn of the corner of the desk, Tommy raised his pistol and pointed it at her forehead. Deirdre looked up to him with doe eyes and gulped down her nerves. “And now, you will repay your debts” Tommy ordered with a gentle nod. 

“I will do no such thing” she refused, her words sizzling in anger. 

Tommy knelt down to her level, his pistol pressed against her temple. Deirdre breathed out but didn’t fear, she’s been pushed and shoved too many times before to know when there was an actual threat on her life. 

“Yes you will. Because you’re still my property, my dear wife” Tommy smirked.

CHAPTER 2

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

---

Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Alternate Doctor Who Companion Endings

The Hartnell Years

Barbara: becomes an Aztec queen

Ian: Stabbed by a TARDIS-possessed Susan running with scissors

Susan: Eaten by a normal-sized Earth woodlouse while shrunk

Vicky: Conscripted into a civil war between large-sized non-Earth moths and ants

Steven: arrested for mugging a man for his Rolex in 1066

Katerina: journeys with the Doctor for eight multi-part serials before falling in love with a Samurai and staying in Edo period Japan

Sara Kingdom: becomes a Golden Era Hollywood stunt actor

---

The Troughton Years

Polly: Becomes a fish person

Ben: Conscripted into being a Highlander

Jamie: New face new man

Victoria: Killed by a Cybermat

Zoe: vanishes in Foam

-----

The Pertwee Years

Liz Shaw: falls in love with a Silurian

Jo: accidentally drops the Doctor's tupperware box of anti-matter

------

The Baker Years v1

Sarah-Jane: stays on Peladon to pioneer feminism

Harry Sullivan: accidentally replaced by a Zygon

Leela: steamed

Romana 1: a Mishap with a giant squid on a methane refinery. Regenerates.

Romana 2: becomes a vampire

------

The Davison Years

Nyssa: stays on Earth to become a paleontologist

Tegan: goes home with the wrong Doctor (it was a choice of 5, whoops)

Adric: gets lost in an Escher building. Left behind.

Turlough: succeeds in killing the Doctor. Sent home by the Black Guardian with an extremely silly hat

------

The Baker Years v2

Peri: turned into a bird by a slug

------

The McCoy Years

Mel: stays and joins a rebel punk roller derby team and takes on alien!Thatcherite non-Britain

Ace: becomes a Time Lord (with a baseball bat)

------

The McGann Years

Grace: stays dead

Chang Lee: stays dead

------

The Eccleston Years

Adam: promoted and eaten by a gelatinous ceiling

Captain Jack: is so successful on Trinny and Suzannah that he gets and stars in his own future!TV show, How to Look Good Naked. Becomes a celebrity. Stays.

------

The Tennant Years

Rose: possessed by Cassandra

Martha: blows up Earth with the Oster Haagen key

Donna: refinds her real life husband from Silence in the Library after being downloaded

Mickey: becomes parts in a clockwork spaceship

------

The Smith Years

Amy: becomes an Angel

Rory: finds out his fiance sexually assaulted another man the night before their wedding and leaves to build a better life

------

The Capaldi Years

Clara: genuinely leaves and never comes back after that moon bullshit because she's fed up with his abuse

Bill: stays on the Cyber-infested spaceship to lead the colonists as they start a new society

Nardole: Cyber-converted, but is the quirky comic relief robot. The Doctor leaves him with Bill, in case he's useful.

------

The Whittaker Years

Yaz: joins Zheng Yi Sao, is now starring in Our Flag Means Death s3

Graham: stays in the frog universe with his dead frog wife

Ryan: seduced by King James VI and I, becomes prince consort

Dan: goes to space with his grumpy dog friend on new adventures

[terapsina]

#2 for the book worm ask game!

(ask game)

2. Favorite fantasy book(s).

(Eeeeexcellent, I do love fantasy books. Though how I'm gonna narrow it to only a few I've got no idea. Okay. I'm going to remove the very obvious choices like Lord of the Rings (though it is one of my faves)).

---

Monstrous Regiment. I love the entire Discworld series (especially The Witches) but I've also got a huge soft spot in my heart for Terry Pratchett's take on 'a girl dresses like a boy to go to war' (and thinks of everything except some spare socks in- erm... the right place). Along with Polly, the squad consists of a vampire, a troll, an Igor, a religious fanatic and two very, very close "friends" (and yes, the official summary put the friends in quotes too). And everyone has their own secret.

I love basically everything about this book and I can't tell you guys any of it because it would spoil all the fun.

The Goblin Emperor. This one's a story filled with light. Maia the half goblin son of the elven Emperor was never supposed to take the throne (or to ever even be at court. because racism). And then everyone ahead of him dies in a single "accident" and suddenly he's the new Emperor. Maia is a good person, and a kind one, and despite everything that gets thrown at him he keeps hold of that understanding of right and wrong and refuses to bend.

(I have to mention that the language of the writing is kinda hard to get into in the beginning, and the characters's have very complicated and long names, but once you get into it it really did enhance the story for me).

Good Omens. An Angel and a Demon try to stop the apocalypse and instead lose the Antichrist. I've loved that book for like a decade now and if I don't put it on a list of my faves that list would be a lie.

The King of Attolia. Third in The Queen's Thief series and my favorite one out of all of them. I've always enjoyed Outsider POV in fics. And here is a book that just... proves why. We've got Eugenides and Irene, the Thief and the Queen, and we know them from the two previous books. And adore them. But the story isn't from their POV, it's from the POV of Costis, a Queen's guard who's suddenly gotten assigned to the King. The useless, weak, undeserving king that as far as Costis is concerned doesn't deserve to even kiss the Queen's boots. And it's hilarious to read the story from the eyes of someone who knows so much less than us. And so satisfying, as he begins to understand.

(I recommend the whole series and am personally glad to have read them in the published order but Megan Whalen Turner has stated that she wrote them in a way that allows you to jump in at any point you want).

The Raven Tower. The story is from the viewpoint of a sentient, omniscient rock whose name is Strength and Patience of the Hill and it is the GREATEST THING EVER. The gods are real and must be very careful with their words, because if they speak a lie the reality will alter to make that lie the truth but if the lie is bigger than the power of the god... well. Inspired by Hamlet.

(the book also has a trans man as the main character; the other main character? The sentient rock is the narrator but the largest part of the story focuses on Eolo).

A Natural History of Dragons. The first book from The Memoirs of Lady Trent (and honestly it would probably be more honest to say that every single book from this series fits the category of fave but I'm putting up the first here because this isn't a series where you should skip ahead). The book focuses on the life of Isabella as narrated by her older self. This is the story how a Scirland lady bucked all tradition and became a world renowned expert on the Natural History of Dragons.

(this series has a piece of my heart and always will).

---

(and finally, here's some more of my favorite fantasy books that I also adore and would totally ramble about but I got tired of typing).

[imaginesforeveryone]

Arranged (Part 5)

Pairing: Finn Shelby x Y/N Summary: You were the youngest child of you fathers, being part of a mob family in the heart of New York, your family had many enemies in the city, and even further away, and your life was about to change after a Peaky Boy barged into your life. Warning:smut, fluff, comforting

Giggling as Finn picked you up bridal style before walking through the threshold of his home, that is now your shared home. Setting you down softly on your feet.

"Wow, this is beautiful." You said looking around the dimly lite home. You could tell it probably wasn't Finn who decorated this home. More then likely is was Ada or Polly.

"Yeah, Ada did most of the decorations. I just moved the heavy shit, and live here." He said with a light scoff. You smiled looking around. There was a painting that hung above the fire place. Tommy, Arthur, Polly, Finn, Ada, Lizzie, then there stood one man between Finn and Arthur. You didn't recognize him. He wasn't at the party last night. He was very handsome, icy blue eyes like the rest of them, and a tooth pick in his mouth.

"Who's this? Did I miss him yesterday?" You asked pointing up at the painting. Finn cam ever with a glass in hand and giving it to you. You took it and sipped it. He cleared his throat a little before looking up at it.

"That is John." He spoke plainly and took a sip from his drink. You looked at him with confused eyes.

"He's my older brother. Second youngest. He was killed a few years back. Lucca Changretta took him from us, while he stood on his own porch." Finn explained, with what looked like tears forming in his eyes.

"Oh, Finn." You said looking up at him and placing your hand softly on his cheek.

"No, no, it's okay. Unfortunate, But we can't go back now. We just remember him everyday. We don't have his kids anymore. His wife took them all and went off on the road like gypsies do." He spoke looking down at you. You gave him sad eyes, and all he did was grin down at you.

"No time for sadness. Come, let me show you around." He said kissing your forehead softly, and taking your hand. You followed behind him, now walking into the kitchen.

"This is the kitchen." He spoke, going to the basket that was full of fruit and grabbing an apple and taking a bite out of it. You looked around. It as a beautiful kitchen, and you couldn't wait to cook in it. Yes, you cooked. You had maids and cooks all your life, but you had one cook and maid, who taught you how to cook, clean and all those duties.

"We have a live in maid, that cooks and cleans so you won't have to worry about any of that." He explained sitting on the counter.

"Well, I do enjoy cooking and cleaning, so if they ever want a day off that is perfectly fine with me." You said walking over to him and taking the apple from his hand and biting down.

"A Gotti women that cooks and cleans?" He asked looking down at you confused.

"Yeah, my father didn't like it too much, but the maids and cooks I had growing up taught me. Well, because I wanted to." You explained with a smile and handing him the apple back.

"Well, lucky me, ey?" He said getting off the counter, with a smile. He walked through a door way into the dining room.

"Dining room, where most of the time, the boys and I just get drunk at." He said laughing. He turned the corner and went up a flight of stairs, and down to the end of the hall where a door stood. The only thing on the wall. He opened it, and you walked into a large room that had a king sized bed up against a large window behind it. There sat a couch in the middle of the room with a table in front of it and two other chairs in front of it. A fire place crackled in the corner, radiating heat off of it. You watched as Finn stripped off his jacket, and took his watch out of his pocket, along with his case of cigarettes, and placed them on his bedside table.

"The maids took all your things and put everything away. The vanity is in the bathroom with all your personals, and our wardrobe is over there in the corner. Make yourself comfy." He smiled as he took his vest off, then unbuttoned his white shirt and removing it.

"Take a bath with me?" You asked walking over unbuttoning your jacket and throwing it on the bed.

"Now? Aren't you tired?" He asked looking down at you, looking a bit nervous. You unbuttoned your shirt and took it off, revealing your naked chest in front of him. He looked down taking them in and grinning. You turned around to head to the bathroom, removing a piece of clothing with every step. You heard Finn behind you fumbling with his clothes. Getting to the bathroom you were completely naked. You leaned over starting the water and throwing a bit of bubbles in there. You turned to see Finn standing in the doorway also now, completely naked. You scanned his body up and down. His pale white freckled skin, looked soft and untouched, other than the scare he had on his arm from wha looked like a bullet. He walked over to you almost felt like it was slow motions because you just couldn't see your eyes off of him. Wasn't very sexual, even though his length and girth were quite impressive, you just thought he was beautiful.

"Come on, let's get you in." He said caressing your cheek. He slide into the large claw tub first, and he held his hand out for you to grab and slide in, in front go him. You leaned your back on his chest, feeling his warmth against you, along with the warmth of the bath. You left no lights on and just the candles. You took a deep breathe and relaxed even deeper into him. You felt his fingers very softly glide down your arm in effort to help relax you more.

"Finn." You said with your eyes closed.

"Hmm?" He hummed up as if he was also relaxed into the bath along with you.

"You wanna know what I was thinking right before I walked down the aisle and also what I had said to my mother?" You asked him, wanting to tell him every feeling you had.

"What's that, love?" He asked relaxing his arms on the sides of the tub, with his legs slightly bent on either side of you, due to him being so tall compared to the bath.

"I was afraid that I wouldn't be safe. I was afraid that you would be mean, and that I would be treated like shit in the middle of your metal yard. But, I was proven wrong. I judged a book by its cover, and I just want to say how sorry I am about that." You spoke spilling your emotions out right in front of him. He huffed under his breathe as if he was laughing a bit. He took his hands and began massaging your shoulders.

"Well, I mean you're half right half wrong. I honestly had no intention of actually having feelings for you. I honestly just thought that you were just a wop. I was not happy to being forced to marry an Italian. But, much like you love." He said sliding up and turning you face to look at him.

"I judged a book by its cover, and realized fairly quickly, that I'm lucky. You are beautiful." He said kissing one cheek.

"You're sweet." He said kissing your other cheek.

"You fiery." He said with a giggle kissing your forehead.

"And." He spoke getting close to your lips.

"You're mine." He whispered feeling his warm breathe over you lips, and clashing your lips together. Getting up quickly, making the water splash over the side of the tub getting the ground wet, you straddled him pushing the kiss deeper, and deeper, till you were eagerly yanking at his hair, and he was leaving scratches on your back.

"Finn." You breathed out between kisses trying to catch your breathe.

"MMM" He hummed still with his lips interlocked with yours. You pulled away and looked deep into his icy blue eyes.

"We still have to consummate this marriage." You spoke with a devilish grin on your face and quickly one spreading on his face. He went back to abusing your lips as he got up with you still stranding him, and he carried you out of it. You smiled and laughed as he did so.

"Don't drop me." You warned him.

"Never, love." He said as he walked out of the bathroom with you still wrapped around him like you never want to let go. He laid you softly down on the bed on your back, hovering over you with his hands planted on either side of your head.

"Are you sure?" He asked pulling away from your lips.

"You're my husband, and I'm your wife. I promised you to have and to hold, to take care of. So, here I lay to take care of you." You said all while tugging at his length and watching his eyes roll back, and felt it get hard quickly in your hand.

"Og fuck, love. And I'm going to take, really, really good care of you." He said attaching his lips to your neck and replacing your hand with his, rubbing the tip of his cock and your already wet hole yearning for him to be in there.

"Already wet for me, eh?" You asked looking up at you.

"Hard to fight it when I have you in front of me." You whispered to him with a smile. Teasing your entrance more and more you whined out.

"Finn, please." You cried out begging him to get on with it, and with that he slide into you, stretching you out and causing a gasp to escape your lips.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned out.

"And it's all yours." You whispered snaking your arms under his and grabbing his shoulder from behind him to bring him closer.

"That's right. All mine. No one else's. My property." He whispered into your ear and began thrusting deeper and hard.

"Oh shit, fuck, yes, yes, yes Finn. Right there, don't stop you're going to make me cum." You yelled out as with every thrust he was hitting that sweet spot of yours.

"If you keep tightening like that, I won't be able to hold on any longer either. Fuckkk." He said through deep breathes. You let go of him so he could get better leverage as he sat up on his knees between your legs, getting a better angle making your body start to shake from the orgasm building so much and eventually you couldn't hold it any long and tightened all around him.

"Ahhh, fuck I'm cumming!" You screamed digging your nails into his wrist that held you at your hips to keep you steady.

"fuckk, me to, love." He raised his voice as his thrusts began to become shaky, and with no rhythm. Soon feeling his ropes of seed fill you up. Riding out your highs quickly, and he fell to the side of you.

"Fuck, love. I haven't cum that quick, well ever." He spoke sprawling his arm out across the bed.

"And I've never cum that hard ever either." You told him with a giggle. You moved up to lay your head on his arm. He turned over still with his arm under your head, and softly moved a piece of hair out of your face and behind your ear and just looked at you .

"What?" You asked starting to get nervous.

"Nothing, just looking at my beautiful wife." He spoke with a smile as he caressed down your arm, with his eyes now closed looking tired.

"Finn." You said softly.

"Yes, love?" He asked still with his eyes closed.

"I love you." You said almost in a whisper as you thought it was the wrong thing to say and nervous to see his reaction. He fluttered his eyes open, now looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

"I love you too." He said with a smile and kiss to your lips. You smile letting out a quick breathe. He pulled you into his embrace, and quickly the two of you fell asleep in each others arms.

[timaeuslover001]

Polly Wilkins “The King’s Man” Headcanon (AU)

Polly was born to an Arab mother and a British soldier father

She was escaping her arranged marriage, and escaped to England but died in childbirth due to her being ill and her father died soon after of the same illness.

They named her Margaret Wilkins but Polly was a nickname and proffered that so always went as Polly.

She was raised as an orphan in an orphanage and hated ever moment. bullied and strict rules never suited her. Often got into fight with the girls. She left the orphanage at 12 and decided to go into a work House. Basically a prison for the homeless that was colder, stricter and meaner. You felt more like a prisoner than person. She only stayed there for 2 weeks before she left.

She was found by a man who owned a brothel and he was a slimeball and a creep but his. Girls were getting pregnant and having children and need help watching them. Polly agreed but little did she know he had ulterior motives for her being there but that would come later.

As crazy as Daryl (owner name) was he kept up the lols of the girls because he didn’t wan t his property sick. So he made sure they were clean, smelled good, hygiene good , and hair washed.

Polly met Emily at 14 one day while walking through the upper class shops in London. Emily was a counter girl at a department store. They made fast friends and close like sisters. She told Emily eventually where she worked and Emily was shocked and concerned but Polly reassured her she could handle herself. She met Emily friends but never said where she worked.

It almost costed her reputation once after someone claiming to have spotted her in that area once.

The girls loved her and she loved them. Polly got experience nursing the girls and taking care of children. She also worked spend the building sometimes as a waitress to which she was mistaken as a Sex worker. Sadly that only lasted until she was 16 years old. When Daryl finally wanted Polly to join the girls as a working girl but refused and after a struggle and a brutal fight between her and Daryl . She eventually relented.

She cried herself to sleep every night after that for a year.

One client who was a wealthy man led to the brothers by a few rumors decided to have Polly but at his place and paid a large sum to do so and even took photos of her. She never felt cheaper.

But her sex working days would be at an end sooner than later. Emily had noticed Polly wasn’t visiting her as much and went to see her. Deep in shame and embarrassment Polly tried avoiding her but Emily was persistent. After she told Emily , Emily demanded she leave and never turn back but she couldn’t leave due to the girls and their kids and repercussions from Daryl. But She insisted. Polly said her final goodbyes to the girls and left in a stormy night with Emily.

Emily had gotten engaged by Orlando since then

Emily took her to her parents barber shop not far from where she worked. She begged them to help her and they of course did. All Emily said was she was in trouble and need help. She stayed with them. She told Polly of her happy news of being engaged to Orlando , Duke of Oxford and told how kind and sweet and loving he was.

Since Emily would be an upper class lady now ,she would need a nurse maid and governess for the children. Polly would be perfect but she doubt Orlando would go for it without a resume. She has experience , not the best of places but real experience. So Emily sat him down and explained the situation vaguely but not lying because she didn’t think it was her story to tell. But she asked for him to trust her and if he had any reservation she should meet her. Cautious but agreed.

They met for lunch, and spend the afternoon together ,just them two and unintentionally by Polly fell in love. She couldn’t believe it. But as she gotten older know him she was everything Emily said he was kind, sweet, gentlemanly. Unlike men she is used to dealing with. He addressed his concerns for a woman with a mysterious past, potentially scandalous, caretaking his children and no resume to show for it. But he deduced she wasn’t a bad person and trusted Emily judgement and agreed to hire her.

The more she spent with him the more she fell for him. She hated herself for it, but as much as she tried she couldn’t shake the feelings but also loved Emily and Orlando love and supported Emily all the way 100%. She never once thought she’d have a chance anyway with her past, so she kept her feelings to herself.

Polly moved into the mansion after the wedding and Honeymoon. Her first job was a maid in the home and she had a lot to learn but picked up quickly she wanted to prove her worth in their lives so she learned quickly. She loved the country so peaceful and quiet and away from any one who would ever know her. She couldn’t believe it . She was finally free. She did fret how long it would last though, she would tell him eventually about her true origins and did wonder and fear the repercussions but loved being with everyone so much.

[alexanderwales]

Sweet Polly Oliver

There's this trope that doesn't show up all that much in Western media where a woman has to, for contrived reasons, pretend to be a man. By contrast, it seems like there's a new K-drama every year or two that has this as its core premise, usually part of a romance.

Personally, I love it, and I'm not entirely sure why.

Some of it is that I'm a sucker for forbidden love, especially when the thing that forbids that love is something that's mostly in the minds of the characters. When two characters yearn for each other and feel like there's this enormous gulf between them, not realizing that that gulf is at best six inches across? That gets me.

Some of it is that I find the tropes fun — secret identities, misunderstandings, people talking past each other, double-booking, that sort of thing.

There's a stock scene where the love interest does something that his culture perceives as totally fine for two men but inappropriate for a man and a woman, but he's oblivious and she's shocked, stunned, or blushing. Maybe he slapped her butt, or got undressed in front of her, or just made some sexual comment.

There's this other stock scene where she does something that would be appropriate for a man and a woman but inappropriate for two men. Some of that "male distance" gets eroded. She falls asleep on him. She slips her hand into his without thinking much about it, then withdraws when she remembers.

Obviously this only works if you have some fairly strong gender roles, which I think might be one of the reasons that it's not super popular in the West. Of course, one of the things I like is that it's poking at how gender is performed and perceived, these arbitrary rules about how we relate to each other, what's appropriate and inappropriate, how feelings can bubble up, where the transgressions lie.

And of course most of these end up in completely conventional straight relationships, partly because the intended audience seems to be straight women, but also partly because they don't want to make a statement. I have watched three or four of these now, and I would be shocked if the next one I watch concluded with any kind of queer acceptance (beyond what's implied by all the gender stuff that goes on over the course of twenty episodes of gender poking). There's flirtation with queerness and gender nonconformity, I guess.

I've just started on The King's Affection, which seems to be taking the whole thing a little more seriously, but it feels like it might still fill the same niche.

[transmutationisms]

Her first task: assemble a team of development executives to rummage through Mattel’s toy chest and identify I.P. that could be fodder for Hollywood studios. Mattel would help match properties with writers, actors, and directors; studios would provide all the funding. The brands, and audiences’ familiarity with them, were their own form of currency. Brenner told me, “In the world we’re living in, I.P. is king. Pre-awareness is so important.”

[...]

The gamble now looks like a smart one. The hyper-saturated trailers for “Barbie” have sparked endless memes, and interest in the film’s aesthetic sensibility, which mimics the look of Mattel play sets, is so intense that the hashtag #Barbiecore trended on TikTok for months. The movie, which opens in mid-July, is tracking to be one of the blockbusters of the summer. Meanwhile, Mattel has amassed a long slate of other projects. Daniel Kaluuya, for example, has agreed to produce a feature about Barney, the purple dinosaur. Thirteen more films have been publicly announced, including movies about He-Man and Polly Pocket; forty-five are in development. (Some of the projects have an ouroboros quality. Tom Hanks is supposed to star in “Major Matt Mason,” which will be based on an astronaut action figure that has been largely forgotten, except for the fact that it helped inspire Buzz Lightyear—one of the protagonists of Pixar’s “Toy Story” franchise.)

Barber told me that Mattel had figured out how to “engage with filmmakers in a friendly way.” Gerwig, meanwhile, was looking to move beyond the small-scale dramas she was known for. “Greta and I have been very consciously constructing a career,” Barber explained. “Her ambition is to be not the biggest woman director but a big studio director. And Barbie was a piece of I.P. that was resonant to her.”

[...]

Talk turned to a few recent pitches that had surprised the team. “Somebody just asked me about Bass Fishin’, which is, like, a toy fishing rod,” Bassin said. The pitch was for an “intense sports drama about this cheating scandal in competitive fishing”—an attempt, it seemed to me, to Trojan-horse a story that the writer actually wanted to tell into a conceit that might be green-lighted.

After the meeting, McKeon told me that it was possible to incorporate complex characters and emotions into toy-based properties, though not every brand could support mature themes. “Thomas the Tank Engine isn’t going on a bender with his friends,” he said. But “Major Matt Mason” could be reimagined as a “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”-esque drama for adults: “It’s prestige-y and asks really pointed questions about life and our place in the universe.” He went on, “Our top priority is to make really good movies—movies that matter, and that make a cultural footprint. Our second priority is to make sure that we do no disservice to the brands.”

found this article helpful in contextualising the medium piece that’s been circulating on here