#Polly said she’d only met them ONCE and she’s been in the mix for TWO YEARS

[dannybobany]

Really sad omori headcanon I have (small spoilers) (Basil thing)

So, it’s never said which side of the family basils grandmother was on, but in my head she was basils maternal grandmother (as in his mom’s mom) and while this was something I just arbitrarily decided one day and didn’t give a lot of thought to…. Thinking of it now I can’t help but imagine that towards the end of her life Basils grandmother began to mistake Basil for her daughter,

And Basil wouldn’t correct her, wouldn’t tell her how she was mistaken and he was not his mother, he would let her believe that her daughter was there for her, that she had not abandoned them both … because not only did Basils parents leave him in the darkest days of his life, but they left Basils grandmother in the dying days of hers

Basils mother left her son to take her place, to let his hair grow out more then usual, to let his grandmother call him “daughter” when her real daughter had left them both behind :(

(We may not know much about Basils family but where there is potential I will FIND the angst and I will share it with everyone I can to make you all sad too)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Twelve.

Unless a little miracle occurs in the writing, this will be the last chapter for a while, besties. I need to get the last chapters all plotted and planned perfectly, so updates are paused until I do. Thank you, as ever, for being such a beautiful and captive audience :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,716

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

It was a small, yet beautiful affair, the bride and groom exchanging their vows in front of the Christmas tree at Georgian House on New Year’s Eve, their loved ones assembled around them. Candles lit the room in a glitter of amber and ochre upon every surface, the scents of spruce and cinnamon perfuming the air.  

The groom wore a charcoal suit, as did his brothers, and the bride was resplendent in blush lace, the gown hugging her curves. The flower girl wore a little dress that matched that of the bride, Polly having to pull her back from hugging the legs of the woman she now referred to as mommy Bryn while she and her father exchanged rings.  

“And with the exchange of rings and vows, it gives me great pleasure to announce you man and wife. Go on now, John. Give her a kiss!” Johnny spoke, who had officiated the marriage, John taking his wife’s face in his hands as their lips met to the raucous cheers and applause from their guests. Just one month before, he had been a lonely single man, and now he was once again wed. To a vampire. One just couldn’t make it up.  

“Congratulations! Oh, you look so beautiful, flower,” Grace spoke warmly as she and Bryn embraced, Tommy offering his best to John.  

Bryn kissed her cheek, grasping her hands. “Well, if not for you and Polly, I likely wouldn’t have!” Grace and Polly had been instrumental in finding a dress at the last minute, Bryn giving them a vague idea of what she wished for, the women trawling through the bridal boutique within Birmingham city centre to find anything that matched.  

Polly had paid them a very handsome wedge to remain open after 5pm upon discovering a few dresses that fitted the description given. Bryn’s vast jewellery collection meant she was prepared there, a purchase of lace and Polly’s handiness at the sewing machine had sorted Katie, Bettie laid on the food and the house was already beautifully decorated enough.  

All John had to do was put his best suit on and not turn up drunk.  

Arthur had very nearly seen to the latter not happening, until he’d been reminded of his now sister-in-law's likely fury should he not wait until the celebrations afterwards. John had never seen a man push a bottle of whiskey away across a table so quickly. 

Music filled the air as the bride and groom received the warmest wishes from their guests, champagne flowing, Bettie’s delicious array of party food being devoured and merriment abounding. It was tinged with a little melancholy for Bryn, though, her heart clutched in sadness that Alexander and Joy were not present. She’d cried in John’s arms the day before after being sent an abundance of flowers from Joy, and a gift from Alexander she most definitely intended to enjoy, too.  

“So, what is it in this bottle your son sent?” John asked after finding her in the kitchen, opening said bottle up. “You were too busy having a moment to ask yesterday.”  

“This, my love, is a bloody pain to get into firstly,” she began, negotiating the wax seal with a knife. “Inside this bottle is virgin’s blood, which as I am unsure whether I have mentioned is the only way a vampire may become intoxicated. Something about the purity mixing with us being the antithesis of that, I don’t know, but it works.”  

His hand rubbed fondly at her bare upper back, mischief alighting his handsome features. “Nah, you didn’t mention that, but it’ll be fun getting to watch me new wife pissed out of her head.”  

Decanting a measure into a wine glass, she re-corked the bottle, taking a sip. “Oooh, it’s Japanese. I did wonder where he was at present, seems his travels have taken him from Sicily to the far east.” Another sip followed. “One glass I shall be merry, two and should think rather sloshed.” 

John nodded at the glass. “Hurry up and drink it, then.”  

“My darling husband,” she cooed, grasping his face gently in her hand. “Ever the perpetuator of shenanigans!” 

“Ar, that’s me.” Taking her hand, he led her back to the festivities, not able to stop himself from admiring her adoringly. Drunk or sober, she was his complete everything. Sinking the blood, she left a little in the bottom of the glass, topping off her champagne with it so it would not take immediate, strong effect. Much like alcohol for a human, it would require a few more glasses for her to become tipsy. 

They continued to mingle with their guests, eventually parting from one another, John enjoying time with his brothers while Bryn made a point to go and speak with the young woman she enjoyed the company of very much after their first meet at Christmas.  

“I have to say it, Bryn, your home is absolutely stunning,” Ada spoke, being given the grand tour by her new sister-in-law. “And you’re letting a reprobate like our John move in, too. Brave.”  

She widened her eyes a fraction. “See those vases over there on the landing? He nearly broke one three nights ago. Drunk as a lord, falling up the stairs making his intentions very clearly known. ‘I’m gonna smash the hell out of you, bab!’ is what I had yelled at me, before he stumbled and very nearly ended up smashing my beautiful porcelain instead. Thank the stars I can move as rapidly as I do, saving it mid-descent to the ground.”  

Ada shook her head. “My brother, ever the charmer.” Running her hand over the rim of the tall, black and gold vase, she marvelled at its beauty. “How old are they?” 

Bryn paused for thought a moment. “I was living in China when I bought them new, so that makes them around three hundred years old. They did well to survive the voyage when I moved back to European shores, packed in crates padded out with hay.”  

Immediately Ada removed her hand, looking perturbed. “Yes, and my clod of a brother lives here now. You might want to glue things down, Bryn.”  

The vampire chuckled, resting a hand to her shoulder. “He isn’t that bad, I assure you. Although he did break my bed, but that wasn’t from any kind of clumsiness. The fewer details you know there, the better, I feel.” 

She snorted, pulling a face. “Yeah, yeah do spare me those!” They shared laughter, heading back down the staircase, Bryn telling her of the history behind the grand crystal chandelier when suddenly, an almighty boom sounded from outside. 

“Stay here,” she instructed, placing a protective hand against Ada’s middle to halt her upon the stairs, moving rapidly to look through the glass panels bordering the front door. The sound of surprised gasps and commotion coming from the sitting room reached her ears, the pounding footfalls of heavy boots striding towards her as she witnessed the second car parked out there explode into a ball of flames.  

Turning, the first eyes she met were Tommy’s, both silently confirming one another’s thoughts.  

“Cover the rear of the house, I will hover above where my eyes will be of greatest merit to see what’s coming.”  

It hadn’t been lost on either of them, the distraction tactics. The same could not be said for Bryn’s newly betrothed, though.  

“Them fucking cunts,” John growled, yanking a machine gun from the hallway cupboard where they were stowed in times of no guards being present upon the front gates, striding for the front door. Immediately, his wife appeared in front of him. “Bryn, out of the way.” 

“Darling, no. Get to the back of the house with your brothers,” she spoke, her eyes as urgent as her tones, flitting to see Arthur arm himself similarly, throwing one to Tommy as well.  

“But they’re fucking out the bloody front!” he yelled, Bryn closing her eyes tightly. 

“It’s a diversion, John! Get to the back of the house. Trust me. Remember my place in commanding an army as a human. I have seen this before.” He was about to make protest, but the look she shot him made the words shrivel and die right there in his throat, indeed remembering. When your wife was once hailed as a warlord, it was perhaps not in a man’s best interests to argue with her.  

“Ada, get the guests into the cellar, children first,” she then spoke, all of the men capable of fighting heading to the rear of the house, Isaiah and Mickey keeping an eye on the front from concealed points at the front windows, just to be certain. The three eldest of the Shelby men moved swiftly to the back of the house, Bryn vanishing within a flash.  

True to her estimations, bullets began to fly through the air, the three taking points of concealment to begin fighting back against the onslaught of machine gun wielding northers peppering the rear of the house with bullets. Being gunners in the army, the former members of the Warwickshire Yeomanry gave as good as they got, men hitting the ground with grunts as they were taken out, John wondering just where Bryn had gotten to when suddenly, a Rasmussen found himself in flight. 

She was bringing the attack from the air, he saw, the man screaming in surprise before his corpse hit the snowy ground, his head dropped a second later.  

“Got a bit of an affinity for that, hasn’t she?” Tommy shouted over the roar of the guns.  

“She ain’t half,” John snickered, watching another leave the ground rapidly. She seemed to change track then, the remaining men finding themselves rapidly disarmed, five of them left, Bryn landing neatly before them as her husband and brothers-in-law stood.  

“Do you have this handled, Brynhild? I think the fire brigade could benefit from being called and somebody going to check the front,” Tommy spoke, adjusting his jacket.  

Her smile grew, an eerie growl rattling her throat. One of the men made a move to his pocket, finding himself shot straight between the eyes by John. “Any more of ya move an inch and I swear to fuck, this ain’t gonna end well for ya. The rest of you, drop the bloody guns. Now.”  

She smiled, jerking her head in his direction as she spoke to Tommy. “If I didn’t, then he certainly does.” He departed, Bryn pivoting neatly, eyeing the men with alarming menace. “I feel the silver upon you all. If you wish to leave with your lives intact, then drop your weaponry and fight me, five on one. See how well you can best a woman when not armed with such an advantage.” 

One ran, Arthur sending a round into his back, the four remaining all rifling in their pockets, taking the silver knives they were armed with and casting them aside. “We go down fighting, lads. Hold your chins up now, boys.”  

“Yes,” Bryn rumbled in dark laughter, popping her fangs. “Hold your chins up, let me get a good look at what I am to bite.” She moved in a nanosecond, the first man missing his throat in the next moment, dropping to the floor. The remaining two found themselves toyed with, the vampire allowing them to get a few punches in even, laughing and cracking them back with balled fists that shattered bones, grinning widely as she did.  

The brother’s exchanged glances, Arthur pulling his hipflask out. “Shall we er, shall we just stand here and let her get on with it, John boy?” 

He took the flask passed to him, glugging back a few mouthfuls as he watched his wife put her fist clean through a skull. “Yeah, might as well. She looks like she’s having a good time of it.” He raised his eyebrows, passing the flask back, letting out a low whistle as he scratched his head.  

“What’s that face for, eh?” Arthur inquired, he and John ducking when a severed arm flew in their direction.  

“Ahh, just thinking how knackered I’m gonna be tomorrow. If she’s this amped up, she ain’t gonna calm down easily, so I’ll probably have to spend most of the early morning fucking her until she finally unwinds.” He snorted laughing, his grin widening. “What a fucking hardship, eh?” 

Arthur joined him in drunken laughter, watching Bryn continue to eviscerate the men. “Go on, love! Enjoy yaself!” He chuckled, looking back at John. “I think the way she is right now, you’ll probably break her back before you calm her down.” 

Once again, the hipflask was passed, John still tittering with mirth. “I dislocated her hip once, shagging the absolute shit out of her, I was. Proper gave her a pounding and then suddenly, CRACK! And she just fucking pops it back in like it’s nothing and tells me to carry on!” 

“Fucking hell!” 

“I know!” 

Arthur hiccupped, a long snort of laughter suddenly leaving his nose, hysterics following.  

“What?” John chuckled, laughing more the further his brother fell apart. 

“Your wife...” 

“Yeah, what about me wife?” 

“She’s a fucking vampire!” His laughter was but a drunken hiss as he hugged his sides, snorting, John descending with him. “How the fuck is our life even fucking real that you’re married to a dead bird? And how am I alright with it all when I was so fucking... well you know how I was.” 

John watched Bryn’s little spree of carnage end, dropping a severed head onto the floor, muttering complaint about her patio becoming bloody. “Because she’s great?” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, the vampire herself appearing before them at speed, Arthur reaching out and holding her face in his hands, kissing her forehead. “She bloody is.” 

“Okay, it seems I am done,” Bryn finished, sucking blood from her fingers, grinning in triumph.  

“And what do you propose is done with the bodies, bab?” Arthur asked, reaching to pull a piece of sinew from her hair.  

“I have some old, jute sacks in the outhouse from coal deliveries. I shall scoop up what remains, weigh each one down and dump them into Witton Lakes. It is the nearest deep body of water I can think of.” 

“You better hurry, love,” John spoke, jerking his head in the direction of the house. “Fire brigade will be here in a bit, and the old bill will likely turn up with ‘em an’ all.” 

He made a good point. The sudden explosion of a number of cars would of course rouse suspicion of criminal activity. While she was ferrying the dead over to Witton, though, John and Arthur assisting in quickly covering all the bloodied snow by shovelling fresh atop it, Tommy explained away the incident to the police.  

“I think it was my fault, constable,” he began, viewing the smouldering wreck of his Bentley. “I tampered with the fuel pipe before we went in, sure somat was coming loose there for the fact I noticed a little puddle of fuel on the drive. All it took was somebody accidentally being careless with a cigarette end and whoomph. They all went up.”  

His lie was believed completely, for who on earth would want to condemn his own Bentley to the fiery inferno it had become? “And you are the owner of the property, Mr. Shelby?” 

“No, that’d be my sister-in-law. One moment.” Bryn was speedily lathering a bar of Pears soap in her hands when he found her in the kitchen, touching a hand to her shoulder. “The old Bill are out front, want a word with you, sweetheart.”  

She nodded, placing a kiss upon his cheek as she passed him by, going to relay the same reason for the fire as she’d heard Tommy himself state. “I will arrange for the cars to be towed away tomorrow, lest bring the beauty of the neighbourhood down, officer.” 

He smiled at her, nodding. “Not to worry, my lady. We’ll pencil this up as a very unfortunate accident and be on our way. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

Oh, how she planned to.  

Her first call was to open more champagne, and get stuck into the bottle of blood sent by her son a little further.  

“Go on, bab. Get it down ya neck!” John encouraged, witnessing her chugging it directly from the bottle. She turned to him with a wide grin, a definite twinkle glittering her eye. “Oh blimey, I know that look. I’m gonna have a right sore cock tomorrow, ain’t I?”  

She chuckled, reaching for him, pulling him close by his suit jacket. “Nothing a little vampire blood shan’t fix.” 

His eyes widened. “I think I’m gonna need more than a little by the way you’re looking at me, fucking hell!” Oh, how right he’d been in what he’d shared with Arthur. Placing the empty bottle down, she beamed at him, moving to run her hands over his chest and exchange kisses of heated longing. They didn’t last too much longer among their guests, quietly slipping away to their bedroom.  

John still couldn’t quite believe it, that he’d gone from a back-to-back on Watery Lane to such an exclusive address, picking up his bride and nibbling her cheek before carrying her to the bedroom as she giggled drunkenly. A flick of her hand had all the many candles as well as the fireplace roaring into life, their undress hungry yet careful, lying naked and entwined while sharing magmatic kisses.  

The fire built to roar steadily as they relished in one another, burning as strongly as their desire, casting the alabaster of John’s skin in a beautiful, deep amber glow as Bryn watched him delight her body in kisses and licks The muscles in his back undulated in a display of erotic delight, his mouth eventually settling between her legs, tongue drubbing through the petals of her cunt with wild hunger.   

He, as ever, had her mewling and twitching against his ministrations, one hand clasping her breast while the other pulled tight in his hair, the suction of his lips around her tender, throbbing bud evoking a wail. A bonfire of pleasure roared within her core, the need to be filled by him driving the vampire to distraction. 

“John, please, my darling. I need you.” 

He grinned against her, skimming a quick lick over her swollen clit. “Already got me right here, though, ain’t ya?” 

“Don’t be clever!” Her frustration was met by the usual amusement, his laugh filling the air. “You know exactly what I want, John Shelby.” 

“Oh ar, sweetheart. I know.” Open mouthed kisses plotted his ascent of her body, big hands pushing her thighs wider, his entire form rippling with the anticipation of being inside her as her husband for the first time, the press and stretch of him making her gasp as she sheathed him, his entire length arrowing into her soaking centre.  

Spearing her, watching the round of each breast bounce from the force, a wanton growl echoing his chest, his teeth sharp at her nipples, hands flexing upon her waist as he drove himself back and forth, enjoying the clutch of wet satin around him, panting hard against her soft, tattooed flesh.  

Already, the heat of it fizzed caustically through her bones, thighs trembling as they began to squeeze tightly around him, his mouth everywhere. Ravenous kisses peppered her breasts, clavicles and neck, his throat rumbling with the most sexual of sounds. Nothing sounded as sinful to her as John’s groans when he was inside of her.   

She was vanquished by her new husband completely, spread around the thick of his cock, held under his weight, her fingertips exploring, mapping each rise and fall of him, nails grazing his back. The way his body rutted against her provided the perfect pressure against her potent little bundle, already swollen from the incessant laving of his tongue, lightning beginning to flicker at the base of her spine as she twitched and pulsed around him. 

His girth dragged her, the hot wet of her saturating him with the gloss of her arousal, his hips beginning to piston against her. He held her face in his hands, staring down at her. “Fucking love you so much, Bryn.” he panted, teeth grazing her throat, fingers moving to tangle within her hair, the wild heat rising between them both. Each kiss he bestowed swallowed down every one of her little cries as their lips meet, whispering his love for her again tenderly, a heavenly juxtapose to how brutally he began to fuck her. 

They clamoured at each other, intense love and passions spiralling, his hands grasped tight upon her thighs, holding her still enough to take the full brunt of each merciless thrust, coaxing heady wails, watching as she gritted and cussed, his smile wide. The sounds of her moans were not the only sounds audible to him, though, the thump of hands pounding against the bedroom door the precursor to the next.  

“Go on, our John boy!” Arthur roared, laughing, a clearly entertained Tommy at least attempting to pull him away from the door through his own snickering. “Ain’t no man who fucks his woman as thorough as a fuckin’ Shelby man!”  

Bryin raised an eyebrow, her hands running down his sweaty chest. “Your brother is at least correct in his heckled encouragement.” 

“Ain’t half.” he panted, mouth pressing to hers once more as they both began to feel the rolling orb of heat swell and tumble, ice chased by tempest over their bones, his thrusts becoming staccato, cock making constellations burst through the hug of her molten walls. 

She cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as she clung on, rolling her hips up against him, the lightning jumping from strike point to strike point as the storm both swelled and crashed, her entire body alight as he pulsed jets of hot cum within her fluttery walls.  

Utterly spent, breathless and all that was electrifying ebbing away, the sparks persisted in gentle fizz, Bryn stroking his face as they shared tender kisses. As John predicted, it took a long time to wear his new wife out, but as they fell into sleep just as the dawn broke, it was with a huge smile upon his face for finally managing to do it.  

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xxvi. REPARATIONS

          It had been three days and both father and daughter were getting on well. They made up for the months that they'd been separated, every bad memory forgotten to the past. Ivy began to have thoughts about staying with her father permanently, it was possible and it would stop the girl from doing any jobs that would get her hands dirtier than they were already.

It was time for Ivy to make her decision.

Ivy wasn't ready for drastic change, not yet. She wanted to stay with the Shelbys, mainly because of Finn. Michael too. But, she wanted to see her father more often, a lot more often. It was decided that she'd continue to live with Polly but have weekly visits with her father. And when working with Tommo, she would not allow him to push her around like he had in the past. It appeared to be a deal no one could dispute with.

The Solomons' had a meeting with Tommy Shelby himself that day, however, to discuss the business with the Russians; and so Ivy could report back to Tom what she had learnt. The girl had told her father the real reason why she was back with him, it was a part of Tommo's plan. Alfie and Ivy had agreed that she would tell Tom a few things but no where near the amount of information that he would be expecting. She didn't want to betray either of them, she wanted to be loyal to both, as hard as that seemed.

"Are you going to tell me about this...Finn you seem so fond of?" Alfie quizzed Ivy as they entered the last lengths of their journey to Tommy's house. "He's just a friend, father." The girl said, although she knew he was much more than that to her. She had come to terms with the fact that she was in love with the boy, at least she thought she was. The way she felt about him, it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before so she thought it had to love, surely. "You're a shit liar." Her father chuckled as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him. "I am not," Ivy tried to defend herself but she knew it was true if you learned to look for the signs; fidgeting and no eye-contact.

"Fine, we're close," Alfie's eyebrow rose in curiosity. "Leave me alone, I might actually have a good relationship with someone." Ivy joked with the man. "But he's a Shelby." Alfie seethed, although they were business partners, he still struggled to trust the family, let alone allow his daughter to date one of them. "Yes, father, he's a Shelby, but he's not like any of them. He's kind, he doesn't have a single bad bone in his body, as far as I've seen anyway. Please, just don't let your distrust of the Shelbys come between us." Alfie took a deep sigh at his daughter's words, thoughts raging through his mind,"You love him?"

"I think so, I don't know." Ivy confessed but Alfie made no reply. The rest of the journey was quick and silent; her father's true feelings unknown to the girl. The pair pulled up to the house, clouds raged over it and rain threatened to drench the building. Ivy jumped out of the car before her father, Tommo had asked to speak to her first without Alfie there. "Ivy, it's good to see you." Tommo said as he led her into his office after welcoming her through the door. "You too, I suppose." Her last words were muttered. "What do you have for me?" His eyes burnt through her, a mix of ice and fire. He lighted and lifted a cigarette up to his lips as he sat down in his large leather chair. The girl told him about her father, but only what her and Alfie had agreed to tell him. "Is that everything?" Tommo questioned once Ivy had finished talking. She nodded, "He was cautious with me."

He paused for a moment, thinking over his words, "I suppose you told him the truth then? About why you moved back in?" Tom stood up out of his chair to face out the window, his eyes locked on her father. "Tommo, I want to help both of you. I don't want to choose between you or my father anymore, I want to fluctuate between you instead of picking permanent sides. That doesn't mean I'll betray you, I won't. I just," She stopped, searching for the right words to say, "Any business that divides you two will be none of my concern, is that alright?"

"Get your father for me," He ordered her, although his voice was soft. The girl stood up, ready to leave the room, "And Ivy," Stopping, she turned back to the man who was now facing her, "Don't let your love for your father corrupt you. Don't feel forced to love your family just because they're family,"

'What's that supposed to mean?' Ivy asked herself. A few moments of silence was passed between the pair before Tom started to speak again, "You can live with whoever you want, but you still work for me, understood?" The girl nodded, no words left her mouth. Tommo's look was stern but there was still affection behind the ice of his eyes, deep down. As she left his office, laughter echoed through the empty hall. 'Of course the boys are here.' She thought. She made haste getting her father and leading him into Tommy's office so she could reunite with the rest of the Shelby family. It had only been six days, but it felt like it'd been a lifetime since she'd seen them all.

A cheer erupted as Ivy entered the kitchen, Johnny Dogs, Arthur, John, Michael and Finn were scattered around the room. "We thought you'd left us." John approached the girl, swinging his arms around her shoulders and squeezing her in a tight embrace. "We missed you." Arthur told the girl from his position on the table, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks, it's good to be back." John shook her shoulders once before before returning to where he was stood before. Ivy's eyes scanned the room. They landed on Michael's, his lips turning up at the corners when she looked at him. He gave her a small nod before turning  his attention back to the boys' conversation.

"Ivy," A small voice came from beside her, she spun to be met with the emerald of Finn's eyes. "I've really fucking missed you, doll." His long arms pulled her into his chest, her's reciprocating the action. "I've missed you too, Finn." She buried her head into his chest, reveling in the feel of his arms wrapped about her, squeezing. His head was rested against her own, his nose in her hair. "We still need to have that talk." He mumbled into her hair. "Of course," The pair pulled out of the hug. Nerves began to fill the girl, what was Finn going to tell her, was it good or bad?

Finn led the girl out of the room and to the sofa that rested in the foyer, the same one where she'd had her breakdown and Mickey had comforted her. The memory pained her. "What did you want to tell me?" Ivy asked, her heart almost bursting with emotion already. Finn's stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushed and hair tousled from his own hands. "I-I don't know how to say this but, um, I've never felt like this about anyone before... and, fuck," His eyes avoided hers, a large sigh leaving his plump lips. "What I'm trying to say is I love you," Finn took in another deep breath and looked towards the girl, searching for her reaction. "Ivy, I love you."

"Finn..." She whispered, her heart pounding against her chest. The truth was out, and it was mutual. "I understand if you don't feel the same way-" His words were cut short by Ivy's arm wrapping around his broad shoulders, pulling him in for another hug. "I love you too," She muttered in his ear, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. Finn breathed a sigh of relief, his arms coming around the small waist of the girl, squeezing hard as if he never wanted to let go.

But they had to eventually. Their arms loosened their grip around each other and returned back to their own sides. "But, Finn, I don't think I'm ready for a proper relationship yet," Ivy's voice was timid, not wanting to anger Finn. "We should wait and see what happens for a while."

She had done it again. Ivy had lied to Finn. Yes, she didn't want a proper relationship, but it wasn't because she wasn't ready for one. It was because of Michael. They had finally started getting along better, 'Maybe that would progress further,' Ivy thought to herself. The girl didn't register the words that were coming out of her mouth, it was as if her subconscious was speaking for her.

"If that's what you want." Ivy could hear the sadness in the boy's voice, it pulled at her heart strings, the pain running deep throughout her body. "That doesn't mean we can't be close though." She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, the tips of her fingers playing with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. "We can still kiss?" The smile that slid onto his lips was almost priceless, Ivy mirrored his look of joy and nodded, a small giggle left her lips too. "Maybe more, too," She smirked as she ran her thumb over Finn's bottom lip. "We should go back, they might suspect something." Finn nodded at her words and led her back into the kitchen.

Once they entered the room, her eyes immediately met with Michael's, a storm brewing behind them. The girl furrowed her eyebrows as if to ask Mickey whether she was the source of his anger, he shook his head, pushing his hands into his pockets. "You've got two choices, Michael," John spoke up, a cigar in his hand, a cloud of smoke circling his head. Finn and Ivy sat themselves at the table, listening intently to John's words, "You fuck off to America with Arthur, join the Apaches, or you marry the girl."

Michael stared right at Ivy, neither of them wanted the latter option. The girl figured that he must've told them he got Charlotte pregnant. "This isn't a joke." Mickey grumbled, taking a few steps towards John, clearly getting riled up. "Arthur, are you really gonna live with the Apaches?" Johnny Dogs quizzed the older man as he sat on the kitchen counter. Arthur ignored his question, a teacup held close to his lips, "Told her father yet?" The man asked Mickey. "No." Ivy's boss began to pace the kitchen, his eyes catching hers every other second. He seemed to almost be pleading for her to do something, to help him. But she was powerless, there was nothing she could do to help him even though she wish she could. "He'll fucking shoot you, man." John shook his head before taking another drag of his cigar.

"What happened?" Finn muttered in Ivy's ear, "Mickey got his girlfriend pregnant." She told him. "How the fuck do you know?" John quizzed the girl, she shook her head slightly and turned to Michael, "Are you sure it's yours?" He sighs and nods, "I shouldn't have told you." Mickey directed his words at John, Arthur and Johnny Dogs. The eldest Shelby rolled his eyes before he began speaking again, "Then think of marriage as a beautiful road, flowers all the way down it." Michael stopped pacing and turned to his other cousin, "Is he joking?"

"It's hard to tell these days."John stated, his head shaking. Mickey sighed once again, walking over to the table and resting his hands on the surface. "Do you, uh, do you love the woman?" Arthur didn't look at the man as he mumbled his words. Ivy knew the truth but she wasn't sure if Mickey would tell it to his cousins. "Fucking what?" His stormy eyes returned, burning holes into Arthur. "Mickey." Ivy warned, keeping her voice low and trying to keep him calm. She reached her hand out to gently touch his wrist, she needed to keep him grounded. The girl could feel another pair of eyes watching her, Finn. She slowly retracted her hand, Michael taking a quick glance at her as if to thank her.

"Go and marry her like the rest of us." Arthur brushed Michael off. "She doesn't want her family to know. She doesn't wanna have the baby." He took his hands off the table and stood up straight once more, going back to pacing. "We know a woman," John said nonchalantly, his older brother quickly telling him to shut up. "Same woman who helped you out twice." He continued to speak to his brother. "Not my women." Arthur seethed, anger beginning to pile up in him.

Michael was still pacing the room, trying to keep his breathing steady. Ivy could see the muscles in his shoulders contract and relax with every breath he took. He moved over to the whiskey bottle that sat on the side, pouring himself a glass. "That's why you had them fixed, Arthur." John prodded his brother still. "Charlotte will want the best." Michael told the group, "She is the best. She used to be a nurse. Twenty minutes. Done." John reassured, but Mickey's eyes were focused on his eldest cousin. "You don't have to go in or wait outside," Arthur told him as he took another swig of his whiskey. "You go to The Garrison, drink whiskey, have a laugh. Remember, John?" He elaborated on his story but Ivy drowned out the conversation with her own thoughts.

Michael came back over to the table, his eyes burning into Arthur once more. Ivy moved her hand back to her boss's, trying to provide comfort once more without saying anything. But the conversation was cut short when the sound of a bell rung through the kitchen. "Tommy said when that bell rings, we're to all go into the big room. Come on, Tommy has a plan." Johnny Dogs finished the last of his whiskey before exiting the room, John, Arthur, and Finn following shortly after. Ivy turned to Michael, the pair now alone in the kitchen together. "Don't feel for-"

"Finn knows." Mickey cut off her words, then throwing back the rest of his whiskey.  "What?" She stood up from her chair and approached her boss. He turned to her, "Finn knows about us. At least, he suspects something." Mickey ran his hands up the girls shoulders, his breathing still slightly irregular. "There's nothing to suspect," Ivy told the man but he raised his eyebrow at her. They both knew it wasn't true. "We just have to be careful." He nodded then took his hands off of Ivy. "We should..." His words trailed off as he gestured towards the door. "I'm always here for you, Mickey. Remember that." Her boss gave her a small smile before following her out of the kitchen and into Tommy's office.

After a tense encounter between Alfie and Arthur, Tommy managed to explain his plan to the group. Tommo, Arthur, John, and Alfie would go to a party the Russians were organising while Polly, Michael and Ivy would go to Ada's house and she would join Shelby Company Limited. Tom spoke briefly about a priest that was involved in the Russian business, Ivy noticed Mickey tense up at the mention of him. She made a mental note to ask him about it later, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Polly and Ada were glad to see Ivy again, it seemed as if every Shelby had missed her. "I brought Michael because as chief accountant, he has to be witness." Polly told her niece as Ada led her, Michael, and Ivy through her house. "And I just didn't want to be alone." Ivy added on and Ada laughed lightly, Polly smiled at the pair.  The fire raged in the hearth at the end of the room, warmth cascaded onto the room, shadows following their path. Ivy glanced around Ada's house, expensive furniture, expensive trinkets, expensive clothes; the Shelbys had done really well for themselves.

Ada led them to a dark wood table that sat next to the fire, all of the girls sitting down and getting out the necessary papers. "Ada, can I, uh, use your phone?" Mickey questioned, still standing up. Both Ivy and Polly knew the reason behind his question. Charlotte. "Michael, business first." His mother told him and continued to arrange the papers. Begrudgingly, he took a seat next to Ivy, his eyes focused on his watch. "Michael, stop looking at your watch." Polly scolded again as she handed Ada a pen so she could sign the documents. Ivy giggled lightly at their interaction, Mickey shot a dark glare at her but she knew he had no ill intention behind it.

"Ada, whilst you're reading this, um, can I go and use your phone?" He persisted. "Who's the lucky girl, Michael?" Ada smiled through her words, still continuing to read. "Her name is Charlotte and Michael cannot breathe if he does not talk to her every two hours." Polly spat. Ivy bit her lip to refrain from laughing, not wanting to anger him anymore. Michael took a deep breath and asked Ada again. "Phone's in the hall. Dial naught for the line. And keep it quick, I pay the bill." Ada said, Michael not wasting a single second in leaving the room. "Not for long." Polly said with a smirk as she pulled a cigarette out of its case and lit it, Ivy and Ada lightly chuckling.

It only took ten minutes and Ada was already talking about politics, "Think about it, together we can take control," She spoke to Ivy and Polly, both of them intrigued in her words. "With three of us in the company, and Ivy's ties to London, we can straighten things out." Ivy nodded along to her words, she did make a good point. "What about the politics?" Polly asked. "You, and Ivy and me fighting together and winning, that is politics. That's a new kind of politics. It's just this way I get paid and Karl gets a nice Christmas."

"She makes a fair point." Ivy told Pol and she nodded, "She does. Welcome to the bourgeoisie." The woman smiled and the girls laughed lightly once more. "Welcome to Shelby Company Limited." Polly told her niece, a warm smile upon her face as Ada finished signing the papers. The longer Michael was out of the room, the more worried Ivy became. She just wanted him to be happy, no matter the cost. It was almost as if her thoughts had summoned the man. Michael entered the room again, his face pale, a look of worry plastered upon it. "Michael, would you like to welcome Ada, our new Head of Property and Acquisitions."

"Congratulations. Where do I sign?" His voice was shaky, his hands too. Polly handed over the papers, her eyes rolling slightly. Ivy watched the man carefully. "Ada, have you got whiskey?" The woman spoke with sarcasm in her words, "Yeah, Tommy." The girls exchanged looks with each other. Polly spoke up first, "I've already told him. He's becoming too like his cousin." Her eyes darted over the documents again. Mickey made his way over to the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a glass, "I though that was the idea." He replied to his mother. "Yeah, Tommy but with a bit more fucking charm and class." She shook her head.

"Where am I sleeping Ada?" More looks were exchanged, Ada and Polly's were ones of shock whereas Ivy's was concern for the man. "In the room in between Ivy and Karl." Michael stormed out of the room without another word, ignoring the calls from his mother for him to stay. "Heartbroken, poor love." Ada said, Polly turned to look at her, her eyebrows raised. "I should probably go up too, its been a long day. Goodnight." Both Polly and Ada said goodnight and Ivy rushed out of the room, eager to see if Michael was alright.

Gradually, she raised her hand up to Michael's door. "Go away, mum." He grumbled from the other side. "It's Ivy," She told him. Footsteps were heard from inside the room and after a few seconds the door opened to reveal a shirtless Michael. "I, um, wanted to make sure you were alright," He towered over the girl, the whiskey glass still in his hand. "Can I come in?" Mickey gingerly took a few steps away from his door, allowing the girl into his room. She heard the latch of the door behind her and almost immediately after a sob. She spun on her heals to see tears pouring out of her boss's eyes. "Mickey," She said, hastily making her way over to him. Ivy took him in her arms, led him to the bed and sat him down. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hot tears leaking onto the collar of her shirt. "It's alright, everything's going to be alright."

They stayed in that position for a while, Mickey's arms wrapped around her waist, his head against her neck. "Can you stay with me tonight, princess?" He pulled away from the embrace, her neck becoming cold from the lack of his presence. "Nothing sexual," His lips were pouted and his eyes were watery, the blue of them shining when the light hit them. "Unless you want to." He smirked slightly and his hands squeezed her waist. "And you call me a whore?" She joked, standing up and removing her skirt. "You love it though." He stood up too so he could remove his clothes and get into bed. "I do."

"Here." Mickey handed his shirt to the girl so she had something to sleep in. "Thank you." She took it from his hands and slipped it over her underwear. His eyes didn't move from her body. "Fuck, I've missed that." He moved closer to the girl, his hands slipping under his own shirt to touch the smooth skin of her waist. "You have Charlotte." Ivy said before Michael could kiss her. "Not for long," He took a deep breath as Ivy waited for him to continue. "I'm splitting up with her, after she gets rid of the baby." She cupped his cheek, coming closer to the man. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I am, Mickey, look at me. I'm sorry to hear it because it's upsetting you. I'm glad that you're splitting with her because I don't like her but I hate seeing you like this." His crystal eyes opened to look into the ice of Ivy's. Licking his lips, he moved closer to Ivy's. They met, soft lips caressing each other as Michael's arms wrapped tigher around her waist. "Thank you, for being so good to me. I've been nothing but rude and disrespectful."

"Get in the bed, Mickey," She told him softly once they pulled out of the kiss. He did as she asked and she followed suit, crawling into his arms. "I like it when you're rough with me," She spoke, her head leaning against Mickey's bare chest, his heartbeat playing like music to her ears. "I just don't like you being a dickhead." She chuckled slightly and he did too, "Noted." He mumbled before he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

As they lay in silence, Ivy's thoughts ran wild. Then she remembered, the meeting earlier, Mickey tensing up when Tommo mentioned the priest.  "Michael." She began. "Yes, princess?" His voice became deeper, sleep beginning to take him over. "Earlier today at the meeting, when Tommo talked about the priest who was working with the Russians," Ivy felt the muscles in his chest tense, his heartbeat becoming a lot faster than it was before. "Do you know him?" Taking in a shaky breath, he told Ivy, "I used to," She looked up at him, prompting him to continue his story. "When I was with the parrish, he paid more...attention to me." She understood what he meant, and she didn't want to force him to talk about it because he was clearly uncomfortable with it. "Mickey, I'm so sorry." Tears started to fill Ivy's eyes, his hand wiped the fallen ones from her cheeks. "S'alright. I'm going to kill him."

"Michael-"

"I'm fed up of my family treating me like a child. I need to do this." Pain coursed through his words, his grip on the girl tightening as he spoke. "I know, I understand. Just, let me come with you. It'll be your first kill and you'll need someone with experience who you can trust." Silence fell upon the pair as Michael considered it. "Alright, but I get the final shot."

Even after their conversation had died down and Michael had drifted off to sleep, Ivy's thoughts continued to race. Instead of business, it was about the war of hearts she now faced.

'Nobody could love a monster like me.'

She thought, it was something she had always thought yet somehow, both Finn and Michael had fallen for her. Finn loved her, but what about Michael? Was it just sex, or something more? Would she cave in for her love for Finn? Or would she go to the darker side, the rougher side with Michael?

xxvii. SHELL SHOCK*

MASTERLIST

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 12

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 12: Tommy makes drastic decisions while Leah finds out where she stands with him.

         "Tommy, I don't know if I should be here," Leah said quietly to him as he sat himself down behind the desk. The rest of the Shelby family began to filter in. "If this is a family matter..."

           He cleared his throat and reached for a cigarette. "You're practically family now."

           That was debatable to her. She enjoyed Tommy's family; they never gave her a fuss. Ada was always kind as was Polly. His brothers were rough around the edges but they were in good spirits just as Jonah had written all those years ago. But there would always be something holding Leah back from feeling like she was a part of the Shelby family.

           "Perhaps I should go wait upstairs with Charlie instead."

           Tommy was quiet for a moment. He pondered the suggestion with his cigarette. "Right, you can go upstairs." He agreed. If she didn't feel comfortable at the meeting then he wouldn't make her stay. "This won't take too long." His eyes fell to Arthur and John.

           "Alright." Something in the atmosphere of the room felt a little strange. But Leah couldn't place what it was. Instead, she kissed Tommy's temple before leaving. He felt like a stone.

~~~~~~~~

           Leah went upstairs to Charlie's room. She played with him to distract herself from the tense feeling she had in the big room.

           "What's that?" She placed his toy car on the floor in front of him.

           The toddler picked up the toy and smiled. "Car!" He chirped proudly.

           She smiled warmly. "Such a smart little boy." There was a lingering thought she'd been having for a few weeks. The idea that she wanted to see Charlie grow. It was a natural reaction to caring for the child for an extended period of time. She could imagine it was exactly how Grace once felt. She simply wanted to see her son grow up.

           Charlie leaned forward and grabbed the hem of Leah's skirt to grab her attention. "Lee!" He waved the car about in the air. "Car!"

           "That's right." She held out her hand so he could wrap his little fingers around hers.

           "Mumma."

           "Hm? Oh, yes, Mummy's over there." She pointed to the side table by Charlie's crib. There, Grace's photograph sat after Leah asked Tommy if she could move it to the baby's room.

           Charlie stared at her with his big eyes. "Mumma." He tugged at her hand.

           "Want me to go get the picture?" Leah stood and retrieved the silver frame. She carefully placed it in his hands.

           He stared at the picture of the woman he was slowly forgetting. Each memory he had of her, slipping away every day he grew just a little bit older. Then, he looked up at the woman who had been there for what felt like ages in Charlie's young mind. "Mumma." He pointed at Leah.

           "No, that's your mum." She redirected his gaze to the picture again. A feeling of guilt crept up on her and she tried her best to reinforce Grace's presence.

           Confused, Charlie furrowed his brow and stared at Grace. He returned the picture to Leah's hands, not sure what to make of it. His short attention span turning back to his toys.

           Leah stood again and placed the picture back on the table. As she did, she began to hear shouting from downstairs. It was faint at first but it grew louder. Not sure how Shelby meetings usually went, she wasn't sure whether to be concerned or not.

           "We'll fucking hang!"

           Leah was startled by the words and hurried to the door.

           "Lee!" Charlie stumbled to his feet and waddled over to her.

           "Sh, sh, it's okay." She scooped the boy up, resting him on her hip. Loud footsteps stormed into the house and the shouting only got more out of hand. Afraid, she went to the top of the stairs and saw Arrow House had erupted into chaos.

           Police had rushed the house and began to arrest the Shelby family members. The brothers kicked off, shouting at Tommy, their wives screaming angrily. Leah stood frozen, horrified and confused at the scene below.

           "I've made a deal with people even more powerful than our enemies." Tommy's voice could be heard above the fray. He walked out of his office while the officers were dragging his family out of the home.

           And just like that, it was all over. Everyone had been removed and driven away.

           Shaking slightly, Leah walked downstairs with Charlie. The little boy was whimpering fearfully and clinging to her.

           Tommy was standing in front of the open doors, watching the last paddy wagon pulling off.

           "Tom?" Leah's voice quivered. "What've you done?"

           He turned around and walked over to her. "You wouldn't understand. I needed to make sacrifices to keep everyone safe." He ran a thumb over Charlie's cheek to soothe him.

           "W-will they be alright? You're going to get them out, aren't you?" She whispered.

           "It'll take some time." Tommy nodded. "But yes."

           A chill came in through the open doors. The day seemed gray and Leah realized her bad feeling from earlier had been warranted. "What will happen to you?"

           "Everything will be alright. We'll be fine, aye?" He rested a hand on her hip.

           "I still don't understand." She didn't know how or why he'd done such a thing to his own family.

           "I wish I could explain everything to you." Mixed emotions crossed his face. He needed to be certain that everything would work out according to his plan. It was far too late to doubt himself.

           Leah nodded silently. She stepped closer to him and wrapped an arm around him. Tommy hugged her and Charlie close, his back to the open door.

~~~~~~~~

           A month after the police raid, Leah was still in Warwickshire. She couldn't find the strength to leave. She'd grown too attached to Charlie and was too in love with Tommy. However, she'd seen a change in the man after what he'd done.

           He worked behind open doors and often traveled to attend meetings. It was difficult to keep the business running without his family's help. But he always returned to his son and the woman he intended to marry.

~~~~~~~

           Friday, Tommy arrived home earlier than expected. When Leah went downstairs to greet him, Charlie at her heels, she saw the vardo outside.

           "I thought you wouldn't be home till tomorrow?" Leah asked when he kissed her cheek and picked up Charlie.

           "Canceled a meeting. I was thinking you'd like to go on a little trip with me?" He wondered.

           Leah's parents often took her camping during the summer holidays so she wasn't afraid of roughing it in the English countryside. "Okay." She agreed. "Where would we be going?"

           "There's a woman I need to speak with. She's a traveler but I know her usual whereabouts." He answered. "Shouldn't take more than two weeks."

           Leah silently hoped it would take the full two weeks. She'd been extremely concerned about Tommy. He hardly ever spoke about business to her. Never told her who his meetings were with or what they about. Never spoke about his family, although Leah knew from Ada that John, Arthur, Michael, and Polly were all still in prison for murder. She worried about them.

           She also worried about Tommy. Every night he was in Warwickshire, she had to remind him what time it was. Even then, he wouldn't go to bed. Instead, working right through the night and into the morning, surviving off of whiskey and cigarettes.

           Leah hoped that the journey would be good for his health. "And we'll bring Charlie along?"

           He nodded. "I'm sure he'll enjoy time outside."

           She smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. "I'll pack a bag then."

           It was a completely different side to Tommy, one Leah never knew existed. She’d been so used to the man who always wore three-piece suits and appreciated luxury items. But it didn’t matter if he had everything he had always wanted as a child. He was still a Traveler by blood and would never forget that.

           But it was still obvious that he was troubled. He tried to keep up a stoic front but Leah could see the thoughts racing in his mind. She couldn’t blame him for feeling so unnerved, but she had to give him credit for what happened to his family. He had orchestrated everything. Whether or not it was for the greater good or not wasn’t for Leah to decide.

           They found Bethany Boswell a day after they arrived in Wales. Tommy asked Leah to stay behind with Charlie while he approached her. The meadow they met in was open so Leah could see them speaking but couldn’t hear anything.

           It felt strange not knowing so much about Tommy’s business dealings. Leah wasn’t sure whether she should be more assertive and demand he disclose that information to her. In reality, she didn’t know whether she wanted know or if it would really change her view on him. She knew he did bad things; she had done bad things as well. There was a huge period of time after Jonah’s death that Tommy didn’t know much about. He didn’t know the things she’d done to stay alive.

           What she wasn’t unsure about was her love for him. Perhaps she was foolish and didn’t realize that one day she might have to pay the price of loving him. The price that most people in Tommy Shelby’s life paid. Sometimes with their life, sometimes with their freedom. Why should she be spared?

           They camped that night by a lake in Wales. Tommy hadn’t mentioned anything about what he spoke to Bethany about. He simply put Charlie to bed, kept the fire going, and checked on the horses every so often.

           Leah stayed up with him, her mind too active to sleep. She curled up by the fire, wrapped in a fur blanket. Tommy sat beside her, smoking and watching the sparks pop and fly out of the flames. His hand kept fidgeting, tucking into the pocket on the inside of his coat.

           She felt guilty for doubting him so much in the past few weeks. She was sure that he was taking on enough of a burden for what he did.

           “Tom?” Her voice disrupted the quiet sounds of the nocturnal creatures around them.

           “Hm?” He didn’t look at her, too consumed with his thoughts. Had he done the right thing? Would his family ever forgive him? Did he deserve to be forgiven? Would this be enough to silence his enemies? Would any of it be worth it?

           Leah’s warm hand touched his cheek and guided his gaze to her. Almost instantly, the anxious thoughts in his head quieted. “I’m worried about you.”

           He reached up and rested his hand over hers. “I know. I’m sorry, things aren’t good right now.” He agreed.

           “They’ll get better, won’t they?”

           “Yes.” He needed to be confident with his decision or things would fall through. With a heavy sigh, he stood up. “Can you swim?” He asked.

           “Not very well, but yes.” She nodded with a confused look. “Why?”

           “Need to clear me head.” He answered vaguely and began to unbutton his shirt.

           Leah’s eyes went to the lake and she laughed quietly. “Are you mad? It must be freezing.” She replied.

           “Good way to clear your head.” A faint smile formed on his lips. He stripped down to his boxers and walked away from the fire, heading for the lake’s bank. “Stay by the fire if you’d like.” His tone was a little taunting and Leah rolled her eyes.

           She stood and folded the blanket. She left it on the steps of the vardo, peeking inside to make sure Charlie was still asleep. Turning, she heard Tommy enter the water with a small splash, diving under for a moment. She walked over to the edge of the lake, waiting for him to resurface.

           The moon was bright, uninhibited by clouds and it cast a crisp glow over the small lake. The colors of the world had bled and faded, resulting in what looked like the scene in a movie picture.

           Tommy’s black hair reappeared a few feet away and the moon highlighted his pale skin. He pushed his hair from his face and looked out to Leah. “Not that cold.”

           Leah sighed and began to remove her blouse and skirt. She could feel Tommy’s blue eyes on her when she stepped into the water clad in only her undergarments. It was colder than she would’ve liked but could be tolerated after fully submerging.

           Tommy swam over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kept his feet on the mossy stones covering the bottom of the lake. His eyes were electric in the pale moonlight, almost glowing. “Would you like to know what I was speaking with Bethany about?”

           It was completely out of the blue and Leah wasn’t expecting it. “If it’s your business, then don’t feel like you have to tell me. I respect your privacy.”

           He chuckled softly and dragged his fingers up her bare spine, catching on the water droplets. “You treat me like you work for me sometimes.”

           A blush spread over Leah’s cheeks. “Sorry, I know I don’t fit in sometimes.”

           “You fit in just fine.” He assured her. “You’re just unsure of yourself.” He pressed his forehead to hers and let out a slow breath. “I brought Bethany a ring to make sure it was free of any bad luck. It’s for you.”

           Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, Tommy, you didn’t have to get me anything. There’s no reason…”

           “I would think a proposal would be a good enough reason.” He replied.

           “Proposal?”

           “Leah, would you consider marrying me?” His tone was serious but eyes were filled with hope.

           “Tom…”

           “I know this isn’t a orthodox situation.” He prefaced before she could decide on a whim. “But I love you and I want Charlie to have someone like you in his life. He deserves that much. And I feel like you’ve brought me back to life, even when I was at my lowest.”

           Leah swallowed and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I love you.” She insisted.

           “But you don’t want to marry me.” He could hear the doubt in her voice. Although he wanted nothing more than to be hers, he knew he didn’t deserve someone like her. She was far too gentle and patient for a man like him.

           “That’s not it. I just don’t know if I’m right for you. Or right for Charlie.” She chewed on her lip and averted her eyes from his.

           “You’re afraid of me, afraid of what I’ve done.” He leaned into her touch. At least he could have this last night with her if she truly wanted to leave.

           “No.” She shook her head. “Should I be?”

           “Would never hurt you. Would do everything I can to protect you. Lee,” He tilted her chin up. “I just want you as you are.”

           “You really want to marry me?” Her eyes finally returned to his.

           “Yes, of course.”

           She waited in silence for a moment before kissing him. Her hand pressed into the back of his neck to keep him close. Her touch was needy and quick.    

           He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, slowing her down, wanting to savor the moment. She kept him on the edge, waiting for her decision while they kissed.

           After what felt like ages, she drew away and nodded. “I’ll marry you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      “She’ll throw me, Tommy, I know she will.”

           “She’s harmless, wouldn’t put you on a horse that would throw you,” Tommy assured her and walked the gentle mare over.

           They were back at Arrow House after the trip to Wales. Tommy’s spirits had lifted considerably after Leah agreed to marry him. It made him much more confident that he would be able to restore his family to the way it used to be.

           “I’m sure she’s sweet but…” Leah sighed and chewed on her lip. “Promise you won’t let me fall?”

           Tommy stopped in front of her, reins in hand. It was a beautiful day in the countryside and he offered to teach Leah how to ride. The groom had tacked up the ten-year-old mare that had been retired off the track for years. A beautiful roan that hardly ever spooked at anything. “I’ll be right beside you.” He nodded.

           She took a deep breath. She’d gotten more accustomed to the horses on the grounds. Charlie went to visit them every single day. Although the little boy was a little braver than she was when it came to the large beasts. It took some convincing to even consider getting up on a horse.

           “I’ll give you a boost.” Tommy offered and held out a hand.

           Leah walked over and carefully stroked the mare’s shoulder. “Hello, Molly.” She said softly. “Go easy on me.”

           “I’ll push you up by your knee,” Tommy explained. “Go on three.”

           Leah took hold of the saddle and rested her knee in Tommy’s hand. On the count of three, he helped boost her up into the saddle, grabbing her leg to make sure she didn’t over jump and slip off the other side.

           “Oh boy…” Leah laughed nervously. “A lot higher up than I thought.”

           “You’re alright, I won’t let go.” He assured her and helped adjust the stirrups’ length. “Better being out here than inside, aye?” He checked the girth and handed her the reins.

           “It is a nice day.” She agreed and nervously took hold of the reins.

           “Thumb on top, that’s it.” Tommy caught sight of the engagement ring on her hand. It gave him a feeling of pride and joy that he cherished during those tough weeks after his family’s arrest. “Alright,” He clicked his tongue. “Walk on, Molly.”

           Leah’s fingers tightened around the reins when the mare began to plod on at a slow walk. Tommy kept an easy stride with them.

           “See you’ll be galloping ‘round before you know it.” Tommy smiled up at her.

           “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She laughed nervously. “Better take it slow.”

           It was stunning to see the differences that made them so compatible. Tommy couldn’t remember the first time he’d ever ridden a horse. Most likely his family of Travelers chucked him up on one the second he could walk. But he was reckless as young as he could remember. He’d suffered a few brutal falls for being so sure of himself and always wanting to go faster.

           He always wanted more out of life and Leah was content to take her time and be patient. For so long she wasn’t given the privilege of being able to take her time. Life seemed to be a never-ending cycle of sleeping during the morning and entertaining strangers at night. Not once could she ask for time off or to be given a break. Now, Tommy gave her the opportunity to truly find her identity again.

           Despite their differences, Leah did her best to keep Tommy’s anxiety and stress under control to a certain extent. Of course, there wasn’t much she could do when he was away for work but when he returned back to Arrow House, she offered him a haven. A place to escape everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Summer faded and one day, Tommy announced that Polly, Arthur, John, and Michael were all out of prison. He didn’t tell her that they were half a second from been hung. Despite this news, the family still seemed to be shattered beyond repair. Tommy didn’t like talking about it much.

           Arthur and John had moved out to the country and refused to speak to Tommy. Polly was lost in the tablets and suffering greatly from the trauma she’d met with. Michael and Ada were the only ones who stuck around.

           Leah knew that Tommy pretended not to care. If they couldn’t see the good he’d done for the family then that was on him. But it was obvious he was deeply troubled by the rift in the family and company.

           The upcoming holidays didn’t make anything easier. The large house seemed so lonely with just the three of them, and then just the two of them when Tommy was away for business. Leah could feel him drifting away. She assumed everything would remain strong, especially after the engagement. But once the weather changed, Tommy became cold as well.

           Leah assumed it was just because of the family issues. There wasn’t much she could do to remedy it because he never spoke of it, all she could do was just try and be there for him when he needed her. But he stopped needing her or at least pretended he didn’t need her.

           On rare occasions, he was home, he often wandered upstairs to the end bedroom. The door that was always locked.

           Leah passed by it a few times, only guessing what could be inside. One night, she was restless. Tommy was home but hadn’t even attempted to sleep. She’d heard him wandering around downstairs for a bit. Kept her ears open to listen to every footstep he took. Eventually, she heard him travel upstairs but he walked right past their bedroom. She could smell his cigarette smoke and became a little annoyed. Normally, she tolerated his behavior. Let him sulk about the house, smoking, drinking, and hardly ever sleeping.          

           But it had just gotten worse. Leah was starting to wonder if he could ever pull himself out of such a mood.

           Deciding enough was enough and she deserved a little bit of explanation from the man she intended to marry, Leah got out of bed. She wrapped herself in a dressing gown and walked down the hall, following the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. The light in the last bedroom was on so she knocked on the door.

           There was a pause of silence. No footsteps and no words. But eventually, Tommy opened the door for his fiancee.

           He locked eyes with her and waited. He’d been waiting for that day. The day Leah would get tired of his attitude. Whether it was self-destructive tendencies or just a cycle, Tommy knew it was inevitable.

           Leah didn’t want to be angry with him. She wanted to understand why he was torturing himself. Certainly, he had to be miserable but he continued on. “Can I come in?” She asked quietly.

           “No.” He answered flatly.

           Although it wasn’t the response she was expecting, she tried to take it with stride. With a deep breath, she continued on. “This was the room you shared with Grace.” She surmised.

           He nodded slowly.

           “Then I’ll stay out here.” She didn’t mind the restriction. If he wanted to keep the room as it was, he could do just that. She wouldn’t intrude or pretend he was being foolish for wanting to keep that memory of her.

           Tommy rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment. Although she was patient, he half expected her to demand to enter the room. Maybe he wanted her to yell at him. Give him hell for all the hell she put her through. It would ease him a little of his guilt.

           “You miss her?” She asked softly.

           He kept behind the door, the clear line drawn between him and Leah. “I miss everyone.” The words came out before he could stifle them.

           “Of course you do, Tommy.” She murmured and longed to embrace him but stayed in the hallway. “But there are people who love you, people in your family who are still alive and love you. Sometimes you can’t hold onto the people who are gone.”

           Tommy’s entire body was tense. He wanted to argue with her, wanted to tell her she was wrong. He could hold onto Grace, his mother, Greta, the friends he’d lost, hell he could hold onto his father if he damn well wanted to.

           “If you’re holding onto people who are gone then you’re missing out on the people who are alive.” She insisted. “Please, I just want the best for you. It hurts so much to see you like this.”

           “Then why do you stay?” He confronted her with the question that had been haunting him for so long. “Why did you say yes?”

           Leah swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. “Because I love you. I think you’re a good man even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

           He took a step back and finished his cigarette. Drifting away.

           “Why did you ask me to marry you if you didn’t want me to say yes?” Leah turned the question back on him. Dread was starting to seep through her bones and her heart began to ache.

           He didn’t answer and his eyes didn’t meet hers.

           “Tommy.” She refused to walk away from him. “Please, you’re breaking my heart.” All she could do was try and extend words out to him instead of reaching out.

           “I do that.” He muttered.

           “You’re only trying to hurt yourself, Tommy.” She was too upset to be patient anymore. “Everything you do to push away the people who truly love you…I-I don’t get it. Why do you keep opening up old wounds? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

           Tommy rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was so tired. Couldn’t even remember the last time he’d got a full night’s sleep. “Lee…” He finally stepped out of Grace’s room and shut the door.

           “Answer me.” She insisted. “I don’t understand why. You just want to hurt yourself and I-I can’t stand it. I don’t want to watch you hurt yourself!”

           “I’ll try to be better.” He stepped towards her.

           “It’s not about being better, Tom, it’s about allowing yourself to be loved by other people. Sometimes I feel you don’t want me to love you. You don’t want your family to love you. And I don’t get it. How am I supposed to love a man who doesn’t want to be loved?”

           “Lee.” He tried to touch her waist and pull her close.

           She pulled away from him and shook her head firmly. “No, don’t touch me. Not if you’re just trying to patronize me.” Hurriedly, she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I’m tired, Tommy, I’m so tired. Maybe I don’t totally understand what’s going on. Maybe I have no right to say anything but…” She sighed and her shoulders drooped with defeat. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” She finally admitted.

           Tommy stared at her quietly for a few moments. “I’m sorry. Maybe I don’t know what to do anymore either.”

           Leah just shook her head and turned away from him. There wasn’t anything else to say to him. She returned to the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

Masterlist

[loserholland]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

Pairing ➺ Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning ➺ Angsty-ish

Word Count ➺  1,724

Summary ➺  Reader spends most her time watching Charlie and later confronts Tommy to spend more time with his son.

A/N ➺ Based off my dream from last night teehee. Also part two?

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @hollandfieldblurbs , @beerbottlesandchainsaws

@softcillian thought you’d like to be tagged in this <3

☞  Masterlist  ☜

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was a close family friend of the Shelby’s, she had basically grown up as one. After her parent’s passed away, Polly had taken her in and raised her as if she was her own. (Y/N) had a special place in the Shelby family’s heart, well at least most of them.

Thomas Shelby, he was the only person (Y/N) was never close to nor got along with. They’ve always bickered with one another, it all started when Tommy had commented that (Y/N) new haircut looked like a mushroom. I guess you could say, they’re just kids they don’t mean it but boy (Y/N) felt so heartbroken and ever since that moment they’ve never gotten along.

I don’t think that would change anytime soon.

(Y/N) had been with them through thick and thin, she was there for the highs and lows. Hell she was even included in family meeting’s, Finn was never happy about that but he had gotten use to it. She was there when Polly’s son Michael had come back after Tommy went searching for him, she was there when John had passed as her close friend Esme left with the kids.

She was also there at the time Tommy’s life took a turn, she was there that night that Grace’s life was taken ever too soon. (Y/N) walked along side Ada, talking about the decorations, and well potential bachelors at the event. Just as they announced dinner was ready to be serve, everyone made their way into the room chattering amongst one another. 

Then it all happened at once, shots were fired and everyone ducked, John and Arthur quick to their feet stomping and kicking at the shooter who posed as a waiter. (Y/N) watched as Tommy cried for help cradling his wife in his arms, though it was too late. Leaving her two year old son Charlie and Tommy, may she rest in peace.

After Grace’s death Tommy spent most of his days awake, spending sometime with Charlie but would leave the house till dawn. He had distanced himself from the family, (Y/N) had taken Charlie into her care. Visiting him as much as possible, she’d take him into the city, go to the park and buy him many goodies.

Tommy watched as (Y/N) strapped his son into his car seat, watched them drive away. He spent most of his days attending to business and doing what Tommy Shelby did best, drink his sorrows away. 

(Y/N) placed Charlie into the small swing seat, pushing him back and forth cooing and making weird faces every now and then as a loud giggle erupted from his chest. “Oh Charlie, I know your father hasn’t been around lately.. he loves you bub... he’s just healing right now.”  though she knew there was never a special place in Tommy’s heart for her, she had a special place for him.

I know as cliché as it sounds (Y/N) had always had feelings for Tommy. It was during her twenty-first birthday she realized he was the man she’d love for the rest of her life. She had come to the fact that he could never love her as much as he loved Grace, she had come to the fact that he could never love her but hate her. She had come to the fact that she’d have to do the same, put up this wall and mask to hide the true feelings she felt. 

“He looks like you.” a voice said as (Y/N) glanced at the stranger who spoke, an lady who seemed to be in her late 50′s pushing her grandson on the swing next to them. (Y/N) smiled sweetly, she had been use to this comment whenever she had brought Charlie out to the mall or park, and the look on their face when she’d say oh he’s not mine, or he’s my nephew. 

“Oh! He’s my nephew actually.” (Y/N) said sweetly tickling Charlie each time he swung forward, the lady smiled nodding as she continued to push her grandson. “It’s good to bring these kiddos out, keep them away from the electronics.” (Y/N) nodded in agreement, it was also good to actually spend time with someone who’s not their child. 

In the back of her mind, she had wanted to tell Tommy to spend more time with Charlie, but she knew it wasn’t the time nor her place so she kept it to herself. She loved Charlie with all her heart but, he needed to spend more time with someone who he shared blood with; someone he shares DNA with. 

“How old is he?” the lady questioned as Charlie raised his hands up and bursted into laughter, “He’s two, how old is your grandson?” (Y/N) conversated, usually she was never one to start up a conversation with mother’s at the park typically anyone honestly. “Six.” the little boy answered hoping off the swing to the jungle gym, the lady smiled walking after her grandson “Hope you two have a wonderful rest of your day!” (Y/N) smiled wishing her the same. 

She took Charlie into her arms walking back to the car to grab his lunch, they sat under a tree atop a blue fluffy blanket. (Y/N) laid his toys out in front of him and prepared his lunch, soft and easy to chew foods like; banana, a little smoothie and some steamed veggies. 

“Do you miss your daddy bub?” (Y/N) watched as he smooshed his veggies lifting his hand up and squealing before placing it into the mixed greens into his mouth. “Ma-ma.” he cooed causing (Y/N) to sigh, there were nights when he’d call for Grace. There were night’s when he’d call for his father who was god knows where. 

“I know you miss her.. your daddy misses her too. She’s watching over us now.” (Y/N) pressed a kiss to his forehead and placed him in her lap watching as he reached forward for his food, making a little mess on the blanket. 

They’d usually be out till dusk, she’d drop Charlie back home and feed him dinner, bathe him and tuck him into bed. Mary would offer to take him after but (Y/N) would refuse saying she didn’t mind and that Mary could go rest. When it was time for bed, she’d sit in the rocking chair just in case he woke up calling for his mom or dad. 

After a few hours, she’d leave the room and head into Tommy’s study to see if he was in. Yet she found an empty room, papers spread out on the desk along with a few cigarettes in the ash tray. The bottles of whiskey almost empty, she moved around his office tidying up the place. She had wanted to tell Tommy if he needed a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to she was there and would always be there for him no matter how they felt for one another.

The front door was slammed shut causing (Y/N) to move away from the desk and seat on the chair behind her, crossing her right leg over her left and turned her chair in the direction of the entrance to his study. The door flew open, Tommy stumbled into the room his broken blue eyes met (Y/N) a small groan tumbled pass his pale lips. 

“Oh your still here.” Tommy snickered moving around the room pouring himself whatever whiskey was left in the glass, finally seating behind his desk. He placed a cigarette between his lips, lighting the end the sound of crackling paper echoed through the room.

(Y/N) didn’t want to say it, but her heart was heavy for Charlie. “You need to spend more time with Charlie.” she mumbled under her breath, keeping her eyes focused on her lap finding the conversation to be non-interesting. Tommy leaned forward glaring at the woman in front of him not wanting to believe the words that had left her mouth were real.

“Wait, what did you say?” a hint of annoyance was laced between his words, (Y/N) stayed silent for a little bit scolding herself for evening mumbling the goddamn words. He slammed his fist into the table causing (Y/N) to jump slightly in her seat but she kept her eyes on her lap picking at her distressed jeans. 

“(Y/N), what did you say?” Tommy demanded waiting for (Y/N) to answer his question, she sat there for a moment trying to regain herself but exhaling.

“I said.. you need to spend more time with Charlie.” silence drew in before Tommy scoffed in anger shaking his head lightly bringing the cigarette between his lips, “Fuck off (Y/N).” the comment caused her head to snap towards Tommy. Anger radiated through her body, she knew better to keep the comment to herself but didn’t want Tommy to continue being this way.

“No, I will not fuck off Thomas! You can’t scare me away like you do to your brothers! Charlie wakes up in the middle of the night crying for either you or Grace! I stay with him till you return!” (Y/N) shouted tears brimmed her eyes staring at the most feared man of Birmingham, he sat there expressing no emotions instead he wore a blank face. 

“You don’t have to fuckin’ stay! Mary is there for that reason! She is here to tend to Charlie’s fuckin’ needs! You’re not his mother (Y/N)!” Tommy screamed watching (Y/N) expression drop, she knew he wasn’t his mother of course she knew that. But it’s the fact that he wasn’t even acting like a father, and he brings up how she’s not his mother?

“I fucking hate you Thomas.” 

That was a lie, she didn’t hate him fucking hell she loved him more than she could ever love herself. Though he was rude to her on many occasions, she loved him so much it was impossible to hate him. It was exactly what Kat Stratford had, ‘But mostly, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.’

(Y/N) got up from her seat the legs of the scrapped against the wood tiled floor, she stormed off to the door stopping for a second before turning back to look at Tommy. 

“I know I’m not his mother Thomas, but you’re sure as hell aren’t acting like his father either.” 

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

A Battle Joined • Ch. 3

previous chapter • on ao3 • next chapter

PART I. WHAT HAPPENED TO MRS. SHELBY? (cont.)

THEN • The return of an old enemy causes considerable turmoil in Esme’s life.

NOW • In pain, Tommy makes a rash choice.

NOW

Tommy limped through the back alley to the Watery Lane house on memory alone; the moon, at its thinnest, had been all but eclipsed by clouds, which sent a light rain to earth and turned the alley pitch black. When he was only a few minutes away, and could picture the little back door with its dull brass handle in its place in the darkness ahead of him, the rain suddenly became a full downpour, getting in his eyes, puddling in his shoes, and slicking his shirt as close as if it was a second skin.

He fumbled with the key on both sides of the door. Once he had locked it behind him, he shoved the keys back in his pocket and made a beeline for the kitchen in the dark, feeling for the cabinet handle and then finding the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Finally, he sat himself down at the kitchen table, in the dark, coat on, hat on, shoes on, and had himself a drink straight from the bottle while the rainwater and blood mixed in a puddle beneath him.

He’d be embarrassed if anyone saw this, likely, with injuries no worse than a shallow cut on the abdomen and a sprained ankle, but fuck, it had not been a pretty night and there was no one left to see that his wreckage was worse than could be accounted for by body alone.

Tommy worked the coat off his shoulders, soaked wool thick and unwieldy, then rummaged through its pockets for his cigarettes, still dry in their holder, and his lighter. He lit a cigarette. The exhale, long and slow, soothed him. So did the familiar orange glow that accompanied the smoke.

A quick bandage and a quantity of whiskey later, and he was ready. He called once a day at least. He was beginning to despair of ever getting an answer. Likely, he would likely have to go back up to London and threaten that Wilkes woman again, but that would be tiresome and fuck he was tired enough already.

He hauled himself up out of the chair, walked over to the office, and leaned on the desk, dialing the number he’d memorized, waiting impatiently for it to ring out.

This time, someone picked up.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice, tentative. Fucking hell. He hadn’t prepared for this. He hastily tried to make his voice as unthreatening as possible.

“Hello, is this Ms. Lee?”

Her cautious tone turned decidedly grim. “No, but give me one moment. Rupa!”

There was a bit of a scuffling sound, and then a new woman was at the phone.

“Yes? Is this Tommy?” She was making an effort to sound light, very unsuccessfully.

It was odd, hearing someone call him that when he’d never met them before, had no idea what they even looked like. But still. “Yes.”

“You scared Maisie half to death, I hear. Threatening to cut her up if I didn’t talk to you within the week.”

“My apologies.” He wasn’t sorry. “She was being...uncooperative.”

“What did you expect her to be like, with a man breaking into her house?”

“Usually that makes people more cooperative.”

“Have a lot of experience with break-ins, is it?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

She paused a moment, shifted, became far more direct. Now her voice was more familiar; it was decidedly not Esme’s, but you could hear how they were sisters in it. “What do you want?”

“I went to London to find Esme. She and I had an arrangement. She was supposed to let me know that she was still alive, and she didn’t. So I’ve been making inquiries.”

It took Rupa altogether too long to answer that. “What do you want to know?”

“When was the last time you heard anything about her?”

“I can’t remember exactly.”

“Try.”

Rupa sighed. “A man came looking for her, six months ago. Said she had disappeared.”

“Luther Sutton?”

“Yes.”

He could practically taste the reluctance coming off her. “What exactly did he say?”

“I can’t remember. He wasn’t much of a talker.”

“Did he seem guilty?”

“Why do you care?”

“I want to know what happened to her. I want to know if he happened to her.”

“He came himself, and only weeks after she’d gone. You’re in Birmingham, calling me seven months later.”

“Enough.” Tommy didn’t need any more of that from her, had plenty of it already. It was nearly intolerable to talk about Esme at all, and to talk about the telegrams, which were in their own way intensely private, was even worse, but he did it. He explained the system.

“Do you see?” he said when he was done, hoping this would mollify her.

“Yes, I see.” She said it terribly flatly. She didn’t seem placated at all. If anything, she sounded more unhappy than before.

“So can you tell me now?”

Rupa sighed. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Tommy pushed off the desk and settled into the chair behind it. He lit a cigarette. It seemed to take her a moment to figure out where to begin.

“I would have told you before,” she said. “I would have called you. She gave me your number, in case of an emergency.”

He didn’t have enough whiskey in the house for this.

Rupa went on: “But I thought you already knew. I thought you had her killed.”

Tommy exhaled slowly. “Is she dead, then?”

“I don’t know.”

Due to the distance, he couldn’t press her, couldn’t afford to scare her off. He had to allow the silence, as much as he loathed it.

“Let me start at the beginning,” she said. “Esme called me about a couple weeks before she disappeared, all excited. She said she’d saved enough money to pay back the Favells for the robbery Dad pinned on them. I didn’t believe her. Nobody could make that kind of money with that kind of work. I thought she’d stolen it. Maybe stolen it from you.”

Tommy felt the expectant pause, but said nothing. Esme had money when she left, but Shelby money matters were none of her sister’s concern.

“But the way she talked,” Rupa went on, “she wasn’t happy. She was trying to make a change. She wanted to move to France, and of course I told her she could stay with us as long as she wanted—Paige and I, I mean—” And how odd, Tommy thought, that this woman could talk about her lover this simply and matter-of-factly, but perhaps that was France. “—but she said she wanted to get her own place, and she wanted Dad to come. She had me ask Dad, on her behalf, to come down to London and meet with the Favells on neutral ground, to offer an apology.”

“What neutral ground?”

“I didn’t ask for details. I thought it was ridiculous from top to bottom. They’d never forgive Dad. I knew it had been hard on her, when Dad left, and she was alone to carry the dishonor. Maybe it made her foolish. I thought Dad would see that, but he was just as wrong as she was about it. He went to London two days before she disappeared. And then they were both gone. I thought they had robbed you to pay back the Favells and finance the French house, but apparently not.”

Esme’s father? Fucking hell. Tommy wished he’d brought another pack of cigarettes with him; his last had gone on so long that it singed his fingers and had to be put out in the ashtray.

“Do you have any family friends in London, anyone that—”

“No. Dad had been in France with me, so we didn’t know anyone there, really. None of the other sisters lived there, either. And we’ve avoided other Romani. It’s better that way.”

“Right.”

“I spoke to her only once. Then I spoke to Dad once. He came to the flat before he left and brought his dog, so Paige would look after it. But that is all I know.”

“All right.”

“If you find either of them alive, tell them to come and take the dog. If you find either of them dead, I don’t need the ashes. But call me.”

“I will,” Tommy said.

She hung up.

Right. He was out of whiskey and didn’t have cigarettes at hand. He could detach, but there was work to be done.

Returning to the kitchen, he turned the lamp on, fetched needle and thread and sat once again at the table, stitching himself up. The chest-seizing sensation of the needle piercing his skin was enough to wholly occupy his mind, and by the time he had finished it up neatly with a clean white bandage, he felt nearly numb. There were thoughts—always thoughts—but he felt very little aside from the continuing dull ache in his ankle and the sharper ache in his abdomen. Though it was well past midnight, he ate a ploughman’s lunch as he went over the weekly shop report.

He very much wanted to go to bed, but if he let the puddle stay on the wood of the kitchen floor, it might stain, and he’d catch hell from Polly for that. He fetched the old mop from the back closet and returned. Blood had turned the puddle dark and nearly opaque against the wood of the floorboards. In fact a little trickle of blood was traveling very slowly down the leg of the chair and into the puddle, where it curled in little eddies and whorls, then dissipated, slowly. Finally there was no more blood, and no more patterns, just a still, shining liquid.

Tommy stopped staring. He put the mop down, turned, and went for the telephone.

“Charlie?”

“Of course it’s me, who else would be answering?” Tommy’s uncle replied, voice thick with sleepiness. “Fuck’s sake, what time is it?”

“Listen to me. I need to take a boat to London tomorrow morning. And I need you in it.”

“Can’t you take a fucking train? Or at least take Curly instead?”

“No.” Tommy hesitated, then added: “I’m expecting to have cargo on the way back.”

This time, he hung up first.

THEN

Bang.

Esme opened her eyes, hoping beyond hope to find her room still dark. But no, beyond the half-curtain of her own hair in her face, she saw plenty of warm early sunlight slanting through the window, and besides, she could hear the high-pitched chirping of a couple little black starlings perched outside on the sill.

“Oi.” Without looking, she knew it was Tommy. He kicked the door again, for emphasis.

She groaned. “I know.”

“Then?”

They both know that if he left then and there, with Esme still horizontal, he’d return in a minute only to find her asleep again. Flinging the old green blanket aside, she sat up in bed, turned, and fixed him with a narrow-eyed look of mock anger.

Tommy imitated a yawn, which in turn made her yawn, enormously. His lips twitched.

“Fuck off.”

Tommy did. Or at least he went back to his room, door still open. She could hear him moving around in there, opening closet doors, choosing clothes, getting dressed.

Esme shook her head, got up, and began to dress too. She was smiling, but likely that was the sleepiness.

“To this day, I don't know why I fucking married you,” she muttered.

“Your mistake,” he called back.

“Everyone makes foolish mistakes when they’re young.”

“Is that what you call twenty-seven, sweetheart?”

“Younger than you, darling.”

Esme waited for the next retort, but it never came. Mildly concerned, she wandered across the hall into his room, combing her hair all the while, to find Tommy rifling through his closet, back bare, trousers on, suspenders hanging from them in loops.

He must have heard her footsteps, because without turning round to see her, he said, “Where’s my blue shirt?”

Technically, he had three different blue shirts, but she knew exactly which one he was talking about. “It’s dead. I cannibalized it for dust rags.”

He made a noise of disgust. “Chin Li Foo could’ve got the stains out.”

“Chin’s a professional launderer, not a magician. It was nearly white, and you had blood all up the front. Here.” She reached around him and plucked a perfectly good, relatively unwrinkled white shirt off the rack.

Tommy didn’t look pleased, but put the shirt on as he was told. Esme walked into the hall, threw her comb on her bed through the open door, and headed downstairs, braiding her hair as she went.

Now fully awake, she reflected that on the whole, they were doing oddly well. She had expected some difference after last night’s conversation, a slight withdrawal on his part, perhaps, but for all the world he seemed as if nothing had happened. Perhaps that was withdrawal in its own way. Well, good. She was more than happy to mutually refuse acknowledging that anything had happened.

She put their old copper kettle on the stove for a morning cup of tea, then put on a pot of water and a few eggs to boil for a quick breakfast. A bit of toast would be nice with that. Now, didn’t they have half a loaf left from John’s kids’ baking spree a few days ago? Yes, there it was.

No. Even if they never spoke of it again, and even if he never thought of it again, Esme couldn’t forget it. She could still vividly remember the feeling of the moment, the cold of the night air on her skin after she left the bed, the low rasp in his voice and the expression on his face when he said, So this is it? Weary and vulnerable. I’m asking.

Perhaps Esme had made a mistake. She had made her reply in panic, mostly, knowing that she was exhausted and sentimental herself, knowing that the bed’s shared warmth and weight of understanding him had weakened her…

No. She closed her eyes. No, it had not been a mistake. The wavering she felt was only a human exhaustion.

By the time Tommy got to the kitchen fifteen minutes later with his gun in his shoulder holster and the morning newspaper in his hand, Esme had already finished her tea and toast and eggs, left his on the table, and moved on to washing up some dishes from the night before. Upon finishing the dishes, Esme interrupted Tommy’s article on the Newmarket racing prospect by putting a little brown bag on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Egg salad sandwich, apple, leftover gingerbread. Might be careful of the gingerbread; Katie’s a liberal cook, especially ginger. She says she hates boring food. Detests it. She talks like she ate a dictionary sometimes.”

Tommy looked up at her. “You made me lunch?”

“Might not have time for it later,” Esme said, as if that was an adequate explanation. It wasn’t, and they both knew it wasn’t, but she found she could only shrug.

“I’m seeing Polly before work today,” she said. And fled.

NOW

“Tommy! What a wonderful surprise!”

Alfie sauntered into the room smelling of rum and down to his shirtsleeves, sheened with sweat and clearly just off a bit of work. Tommy found himself sitting up slightly and awakening too. It was not unlike the reaction one might have to being in the presence of a large bear restrained by only a rusty chain. Any other day, and he would have hailed the challenge with pleasure, but just then, he found it nothing but a trial. He would play along, but he knew himself to be in such a weak position that there was no joy in it.

“Sit down, sit down.” Alfie waved a hand at him and plopped down into his own seat behind the desk. “Wot is this, Buckingham Palace? Are you standing on ceremony, mate?”

“I can only stay for a minute, Alfie,” Tommy said, as lightly as he could.

“A right shame, that, cause you could’ve stayed for lunch. There’s a leg of mutton would melt your tongue, Tommy, melt it right out of your mouth. But I understand.” He made a generous, expansive gesture with both hands. “Business is business.”

Tommy settled into the proffered chair and lit a cigarette. Then, with a slow exhale, he looked at Alfie expectantly.

“I’ve been hearing you’re having some troubles, innit,” said Alfie. “The Chinese?” And his face creased into a grin. “Fuck’s sake, Tommy, if you can’t handle them…” He shook his head. “And what’s this about you losing your temper?”

“You’d better check your sources, Alfie. You’re behind on the news.”

“I’m behind, is it?” Alfie was still grinning with his mouth at least, if not with his eyes.

“We’ve more than answered that rebellion. With force.”

“Mm.” Alfie appeared to be considering that. Then, abruptly, he repeated: “And what’s this about you losing your temper?”

“You know how it is, Alfie,” Tommy said. “People can forget who you are if you leave them alone long enough.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded the man opposite with flat eyes. His voice went down a few notes. “Sometimes they need a reminder.”

Alfie took that in, unsmiling. Suddenly, he broke out into a laugh, mad and real at the same time, finger pointing at Tommy in some sort of discovery. “You haven’t killed anyone lately, ‘ave you, Tommy?” Not just discovery, triumph. “I can see it. I can see it.” He stopped laughing. “You’re like my dog, is what you are. Sometimes I have to go on business and I have to leave him locked up in the house for a few days, right? By the time I get back, he’s scratching up the doors, desperate to get out. He’s torn the place to pieces. But you’re a businessman now, innit, and you’re not in Birmingham. Not in the kingdom anymore, so you gotta be civilized. No clawing up the sofa cushions for you. No impulsive little manslaughters. All you can do is sit there and look at me with those fucking eyes.”

Alfie tsked sympathetically. “Poor puppy. Here.” And up out of the drawer came the eternal whiskey bottle. “‘ave yourself a drink.” Alfie filled the little glass generously. Tommy didn’t touch it.

“I didn’t come to talk killing, Alfie.”

“Then why the fuck are you here, mate?”

The rest of this chapter is here on ao3, because Tumblr malfunctions when I post chapters as long as this one. My apologies for the inconvenience.

I worked on this for a long time. I edited some of the scenes several times in an effort to make sure they were the best they could be. This chapter is 16k words. Please, if you enjoyed it, if you want to see more, if you felt one drop of feeling while reading it, let me know.

And thank you so much to those of you who have commented or have sent me an ask or said something. I can’t tell you how many times I have reread some comments when I needed energy to go on. Thank you again, so much.

@b000ks, @lolashelby, @fookingblinders, @peakystitches, @blinder-secrets, @theskinofmyemotions, @sympathyfortheblinderdevil, @imsortoftrash​, @unluckymonaghan​, @peakyrach​, @shelby-gin-limited​, @unicorndreamer1622, @reyloshipper-starwars, @peakyblinderqueen, @prettieparker86, @sameshitdiffernetday, @serpentregalia, @pb-bonniegold, @ladytshelby, @wweavengers​

(lmk if you want to be added to or removed from tag notifications)

[bugheadotp]

a birthday to remember

so this is a really really late secret santa gift for @betts-and-jug​. i took your prompt and put my twist on it, i hope you enjoy!

ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/13381398

~~~~~

“I don’t understand how you can be so cheery so early in the morning, Betty,” FP yawned as opened to the trailer door wider to let her in.

“It’s an exciting day Mr. Jones, and thank you again for agreeing to help me. I know you’d probably rather be sleeping,” Betty said as she unpacked food from the brown grocery bag she’d been carrying. “It’s not every day your son turns eighteen.”

“God, where did the time go?” he sighed. “It seems like only yesterday you, Jughead and Archie would play in Fred’s backyard and piss Alice off with the mess you’d make in her kitchen.”

Betty smiled at the memories, “Yeah, much simpler times.” She reached into the cupboard above her to retrieve the carton of eggs and cracked all six eggs into a bowl. “Can you heat a pan up please Mr. Jones?”

“You know it’s FP, Betty.” She nodded bashfully and FP moved to the stove and turned the dial on the right to a medium heat. The blonde also handed him a frying pan from the clean dishes next to the sink, which he placed on the back burner of the stove..

Betty continued to whisk the eggs, then moved onto making a pancake mixture. FP made a pot of coffee before sitting at the small table, knowing that she’d rather not have him in the way. He smiled at the thought of his son. FP was always proud of him, even when he wasn’t around that much, knowing that Jughead wasn’t following in his footsteps had made him a better person already.

“Do you kids have plans today?”

“We’re going to Pop’s where Veronica, Archie and Kevin are meeting us. Then the Bijou this evening and then to my house. I told my mom that Jug doesn’t really like his birthday but she was insisting that he had to do something on his eighteenth, so she’s baked him a cake. You’re still  okay to come right?”

“Of course, Alice has been texting me all week. I think she thinks I’m going to forget or something,” FP sighed as he got up to refill his coffee cup.

“Yeah, she does that a lot. I’ve had three texts from her this morning already.”

FP watched Betty move around the kitchen like it was her own. It wasn’t an unusual sight. Ever since Jughead had first asked her out, Betty had slowly started to add her own touch to the trailer.

It started with her own body wash on the small shelf in the shower, and a very sleepy FP not realizing he used it until he was popping bread in the toaster and Jughead had asked why he smelled like strawberries.  

A month later he’d returned to his trailer, after a long day at a construction site, and was greeted by the smell of freshly baked cookies. FP knew that he didn’t have anything in his kitchen cupboards that would assist in the baking of said cookies and walked into the kitchen to see new mixing bowls stacked on the counter and Jughead who was washing up a bowl. Betty was using a smaller bowl to mix icing and insisted that he need not pay her for any of the newly bought things.

Betty had a printed chore chart for housework stuck on the fridge, color-coded and laminated, that had the three of them alternating between washing up, laundry and vacuuming. Jughead had started to learn to cook, basic things like rice and pasta, to accompany whatever feast Betty was making alongside him. They’d work together effortlessly every time.

FP smiled at all of the memories, his son was lucky to have Betty in his life.

He glanced around the living room, noting the wrapped box next to the TV stand. “Can I ask what you got him? Or is that something private?”

“Not at all.” Betty moved the pancake she’d just made onto the stack of others and, after turning the heat to low on the stove moved to sit opposite FP with a glass of orange juice. “It’s sort of like a memory box of us, from things I found when mom was cleaning out the garage. It has some pictures of us that I didn’t even know existed, the ticket stubs from our first date, the first article we co-wrote for the Blue and Gold, things like that.”

“Wow, and all I got him was a voucher for Pop’s.” The silence grew between them once again, neither knowing how to continue the conversation from there. Betty got up to resume making pancakes when FP two of the photos on the fridge caught his eye. They were taken simultaneously, on the first day of Pre-K. One of Betty and Jughead, the small blonde’s arms wrapped tightly around his son and the other of them smiling brightly at each other. “Did you know the first day he met you, he told me he wanted to marry you?”

Betty turned around, a shocked look on her face, “What?”

He indicated for her to sit back down, which she did, pouring them both another glass of orange juice (FP limited himself to two cups of coffee a day.) “The first day you met, your mom, Fred, and I had met up beforehand so that you’d all become acquainted with each other before school. We’d all arranged to meet in the park, Fred was running late but you and your mom were already there, sitting on one of the benches. As we were walking up to you, Jug tapped my leg and said you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.”

Betty’s face turned a light pink and she gulped down the remainder of juice in her glass. “How do you remember that?”

“It’s one of those things that stick, I guess. When your first day finished and he came out of school, he begged me to take him to your house to play. In the truck, all he talked about was you and for a four-year-old, he knew a lot of words to describe you. That night when I was tucking him into bed, he said ‘One day, I’m gonna marry her.’

“When he was seven, Gladys and I forgot his birthday, but you didn’t and had brought in a cupcake for him. He kept the candle too and before he went to bed, he came and told me that you wore your special dress when you brought it him, the one you only wore to Church at Easter and Christmas.”

“I remember that. I spent days convincing my mom to let me wear it even though it was about fifty degrees out. Juggie deserved me looking my best.”

“Betty, my boy’s been in love with you for as long as I can remember. You could have worn the worst thing you can think of and he’d still think the world of you,” FP explained with a laugh.

“For the record, I still want to marry you,” Jughead said, leaning on the short counter between the kitchen and the living room.

FP looked between them then got up, “I’ll leave you both to talk. Call me when you’re ready to eat?” He walked towards his room, pausing to give Jughead a hug, “Happy birthday, son.”

“Thanks, dad,” he responded then greeted Betty with a kiss to her forehead and sat where his father had just vacated.

Before Betty could say anything, Jughead opened his hand to reveal a ring. Her eyes widened as she gazed from his hand, back up to his face, “Juggie, I-”

“Betty, I do want to marry you someday. You told me that in your life plan, you wanted to get married by 25 and no sooner, so think of this as a promise ring. We’ll carry on with life, moving to New York, going to college, getting jobs, we’ll do all of that and this,” he held the ring between his thumb and index finger, “this means we’ll do it all together. Through everything that’ll inevitably happen, we will stick together. If you want to that is.”

“Of course I want to Juggie, I love you.” She closed the gap between them, kissing him.

Breaking the kiss he took Betty’s left hand and said, “I read that promise rings go on the ring finger of the left hand.”

Betty nodded and wiggled her finger slightly to help ease the ring past the knuckle. She wrapped her arms around Jughead’s neck and sat on his lap, hugging him tightly.

“Is it safe to come out kids?” FP yelled from his room.

The blonde pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s lips before telling FP he could return. Betty resumed cooking, plating up what was ready to be consumed.

                                                              ~

After finishing breakfast,  FP gave Jughead his gift then left for work. Betty had finished drying the dishes, with Jughead’s help, when she remembered the present in the living room. She took his hand and led him to the couch and handed him the box.

“I hope you like it, Juggie,” she said pressing a kiss to his cheek then taking a seat next to him.

Jughead opened the box, “Betts, what?”

“It’s a box of our memories Juggie, everything from the plastic toy you gave me when we first met to the pictures you had developed of us yesterday.” Betty said as Jughead went through everything in the box, telling each other the stories associated.

                                                              ~

Later that night after the annual tradition of an ‘inner circle’ lunch at Pop’s, followed by Betty and Jughead’s date night at the Bijou, they arrived back at the Cooper’s house to Alice, Hal and Polly (as well as her twins - who were only just awake) in the kitchen, Alice holding a cake with an 18 candle lit. They all sang happy birthday and Polly’s twins, Junior and Emily, hugged their uncle before being taken to bed. Alice and Hal ate a slice with them before retiring to bed.

Whilst Betty was getting ready for bed, Jughead was sitting at her dressing table, and opened up his email on her laptop to watch a video he’d received from his sister and mom earlier in the day, blowing party horns and singing happy birthday. He typed back a reply about his day, using several exclamation points about his proposal/lifelong promise to Betty, and that the following week when JB’s in town, he’s going to spoil her rotten with the voucher for Pop’s.

Betty walked back into the room, wearing grey pajama shorts and a white tank top, kissed him on the cheek then settled into bed. He logged off and joined her, wrapping his arm around her waist and entangled their fingers, lying gently on her stomach. She turned her head back and glanced up at his blue eyes, kissing him again. “Love you, Juggie.”

“Love you too, Betts,” he replied bringing her closer to him.

[theonceoverthinker]

My Weekend at Once Con (Part 2)

Hello again and welcome back to my recap of my weekend at the Once Upon a Time Convention in Whippany, New Jersey from October 20-22, 2017!

Not caught up but want to be on my adventure so far? Click right here!

()()()()()()()()()()()()() Saturday

()()()()()()()()()()()()() I woke up at seven once again, and once again, I was out the door relatively early, but this time, I took my time preparing for the day. That's because today was my Duo Photo Opp with Jen and Colin, and I wasn't about to do this without looking my absolute best! I dressed in a Once Upon a Time tank top, my Once-themed cardigan, a pair of black slacks, and sneakers. For me, at least, that's pretty good as far as outfits go.

I arrived at the hotel about an hour before registration opened. Dani was there too, waiting to register, so we waited together, chatting it up with a family who was also just attending for the day as we did. I feel bad. Dani, who had been waiting patiently on a sofa right next to the line, got caught back, and then went back even further once the Gold passes started being registered. At some point, I lost her in the crowd. That said, I knew she'd be fine. She's a strong and independent woman, and with a certain Meet and Greet soon to be happening, I knew she had far more important things to think about. As for me, I started to head towards the theatre.

Today, after all, was also the Colin/Jen Gold Package Exclusive Panel, and I wasn't about to miss that for the world.

I went in there with a plan, one I somewhat regret in hindsight. Given how Colin's photo opp was the first thing to sell out, I figured I would ask my Colin question now because he was more likely to fill up in the Q&A line, and then ask Jen's at her individual panel. If I had another go at it, I probably would've asked something that they could both answer, but hey, I still got a question with Colin (And later a second one at his individual panel, but I'll tackle that later!) So, here went my question: "One of my all time favorite dynamics on the show is the rivalry between Killian and Rumple. The chemistry between you and Robert Carlyle is fantastic! How do you two work together to create such a stunning on-screen feud? Do you work on your scenes together or do you both plan independently before just going at each other on camera?"

Now, keep in mind that the wording was a little different than that, but not by much. Perhaps my words didn't come across in the way that I intended, but Colin didn't really answer my question, focusing more on their current dynamic rather than the one from Season 2-6. Thankfully, he did talk about working with Robert Carlyle in general, so it was far from a waste of a question.

Jen and Colin have a fantastic rapport, and it was so nice to see it once again and live. Their dynamic is very casual, and speaks to their great friendship. As expected, the two were swarmed with baby questions, questions about their happy ending, and basically every adorable Captain Swan question, both on and off camera, under the sun. And man, was it fun! Basically all of their responses were met with boisterous cheers and applause (I did quite a fair amount of whooping, myself).

After the Jen/Colin Panel was a quick break, followed by the "Wild Crew" panel. This was a Q&A with Lee Arenberg, Chris Gauthier, Gil McKinney, and Michael Coleman. These guys work well off each other and you can feel the time they've spent together in every word exchanged between them. I did get to ask a question, and this time I decided to kill two birds with one stone and ask a question directed towards the entire panel. My question was simple: "How do you define True Love?" Do you feel those butterflies in your stomach? Yeah, that's what everyone else was feeling too. It made me so happy to hear the "Awww's" that fluttered around the room, both after the question was asked and as each of the men answered. Chris' response, regarding how he and his wife fell in love and are now more in love than they were before was probably my favorite of the four, though every story was heartwarming as hell.

After the Wild Crew had howled away, we got Karen David. I was a big Galavant fan, so I was looking forward to this! My question was pretty simple: "What is the difference in preparing for a comedic role like Galavant as opposed to a dramatic one like Once?" Karen's response was nuanced, detailing the funny moments involved in Once and the more dramatic parts of Galavant as well as touching upon the more regularly picked up parts of the genre.

There was one other question that I wanted to highlight. It was given by a young woman who was actually lucky and skilled enough to both win one of the trivia segments and ask questions at every single panel, all the while wearing a stunning pride flag on her back. She asked Karen about her experiences as the first Indian woman to be featured on Once Upon a Time. Karen's answer was once again just fantastic! She went into the importance of diversity in the media, and her excitement in bringing this role to life. This fandom has a of problems, but when questions are asked about representation in the show, I find that we can be more insightful than we first appear to be. I hope in the future, we ask ourselves continuously if we are doing enough to present a more accurate and beautifully colorful picture of the equally colorful world we live in.

So, there was now a break in the schedule for the cosplay contest. I sadly didn't end up going to because I wanted to talk to Dani about her Meet and Greet with Jen. That said, I wasn't completely oblivious of the cosplays, so I'd like to take a brief moment to highlight some of the coolest cosplays there. First, one person who I had met on the Facebook group that I mentioned in Part 1, Kelly, was dressed as a different version of Regina everyday, and ever single one of them was more phenomenal than the last. ABC, hire this woman! Second, there was this amazing Swan Costume with a crown on it, very clearly going for a literal interpretation of Swan Queen (Lana even called her as much when she asked a question at her panel on Sunday), and that was so freakin' cool! I heard she won a prize in the contest, and that makes me pretty happy! I talked to her later on in the weekend and she said she worked for months on the costume! Third, there was one woman who wore a Belle cosplay on Saturday and an Evil Queen costume on Sunday, and damn, they were both so pretty! Fourth, there were not one, but two exceptional Captain Swan couple's costumes. Like, wow! Finally, there's Opal, who went everyday as Maleficent. Her cosplays were just wonderful! Honestly, her whole crew was en pointe! One of them had up until the night before the debut been working on a rider Regina outfit, and it came out so well and the other was wearing a totally awesome Maleficent costume as well! 

I can go on with this list, stating every Elsa, Zelena, Emma, etc. that I saw that weekend, but for brevity and faulty memory, I'll leave it there. Just know...there's a lot of them, and they're all fabulous!

Later, there was an auction. Auction...how that word would come to haunt me.

But that will have to wait for now.

Anyway, there may have been a break in the panels, but it was anything but for me. My photo opp was coming, and it was coming fast. I asked everyone about if they think I looked good. Dani had coached me through the procedure, and I anxiously waited for my number to be called. After some time, it was, and I got into line, trying to figure out how I'd make a single flash of an instant perfect. It was anxiety-inducing waiting on that line, but the photo happened, and it happened fast. Colin said something to me, and readers, I'm so sorry, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. I remember my foot brushing against his leg, smiling, and then...it was done. Now all I could do was wait for the photo to come out. Fears and doubts settled into the recesses of my mind as I proceeded on with the day.

But enough about that! I know what you're here for! You want to hear about the panels, and now it's time for the one, the only, Colin O' Donoghue!

As I said before, I got another chance to ask Colin a question. This time, I went with something a bit more comedic in nature. "What kind of pet would Hook want? Would he prefer a scurvy dog or would his pet respond more to 'Polly want a cracker?'" His response? His dog Buckley, of course! I couldn't help but go "D'aww" at that answer and neither could the rest of the audience for that matter.

I have two more highlights to point out, and forgive the bias, but both of them come from friends. The first was Dani's. She asked Colin if a scene from Season 3, Dark Hollow was intentional. In the scene, Emma takes a sword out with Hook walking behind her as they walk, and almost strikes Hook in the face without realizing it. Colin said that it was unintentional, which really makes that scene funny to watch in hindsight. The second question came from my carpool buddy, Cassie. It was about the experiences he went through and things he learned while filming The Rite. Colin discussed how he studied exorcisms and even saw some being performed. I'm pretty sure Colin exorcises the fans' souls every time he smoulders! XD

The rest of Colin's panel proceeded as one would expect. Colin is a unique mix of shy and hysterical. He is both approachable and snarky, and at the same time rambling and apologetic. He's down-to-earth and confident, and you never know just which side of him you're going to see next. You can tell how excited he is about the new season, and especially now that we have some of the new season's episodes to go off of, it's pretty easy to get wrapped up in that excitement with him.

Who wants to hear about Jen? I do!!!! Today we got redhead Jen, fresh out of a film festival! And damn, does she rock the new look! So, this panel I got completely locked out of as far as asking questions goes. It was definitely saddening, though I really did love each and every question asked during it. I think I was sadder for Dani. She hadn't had the chance to ask a question to Jen during her Meet and Greet and now, that our fellow con goers had grown wise to the strategy of lining up early, her question line became flooded. It was an impossible block and about halfway though, we both realized we weren't going to get anywhere with it. Dani sat down and while I held out a little longer, I eventually decided to do the same. Rightly so. One thing I really tried to do during this con was not to view it through a screen. My recordings are jagged and audibly terrible, but seeing everyone live, and not just through the camera of my iPhone was well worth it.

Jen's genuineness (Or should I say, JEN-uineness!) shines in everything she says. She answers professionally, but will be vulnerable when she either doesn't know how to answer or the question deems showing that side of herself. She discussed everything from Emma's character and growth over the course of the seasons to her new directing projects to insight into the world of media! One thing I found especially funny and has been highlighted in photo and gifsets a hundred and one times by now was when Jen commented on a question Colin answered during his panel about who would be the fun parent and who would be the strict parent between Hook and Emma. Colin was very much on the side of Emma being the stricter parent, but Jen seems to believe that Hook would change his tune pretty quickly if they were to have a daughter. Personally, I think Hook would be more easygoing either way! XD My favorite question from the set was one about Jen's thoughts on how Swan Queen had brought all of these different relationships together, inspired creative works, inspired coming outs, and even inspired proposals. For one, the question was immaculately worded. It was polite, but so strong in its conviction. It prioritized comfort for all involved but was undeniably something that both everyone could enjoy and at the same time was something special to the Swan Queen and LGBTQ+ communities. I had the pleasure of speaking with the young woman who asked the question Sunday evening, and if you are somehow reading this, you are fantastic and I'd love to follow you or PM you on Tumblr sometime! Also, it seems like Jen is going to be releasing a project having something to do with the LGBTQ+ community in the near future! I can't wait to see it and I don't think I'm alone!

This was the last panel of the day. Afterwards were autographs, which again, I'm going to save my thoughts on for the ending of this overview. That said, I'll hint that halfway through this autograph session, I began a bit of a tradition that would carry through until the end of the weekend.

Now, I've got one last event to comment on, and that's the Once Upon a Concert!

This was fantastic! Picture this: Gil, Lee, Chris, Karen, Michael, and Beverly putting on a concert with every genre under the sun! Here are some fast highlights:

1. Happy hitting on Granny through a musical number, sung entirely in character (I dub the ship Hanny)

2. Karen trying to sing "Love is Strange," but continuously forgetting the lyrics! At one point, a fan brought over her phone so she could look at the lyrics

3. Michael riffing on the show and fandom while singing a song

4. Gil and Karen fumbling their way through "A Whole New World" and laughing the entire time

5. Karen singing Katy Peri's "Roar," going into the audience, and actually giving the mic to Dani and myself at one point so we could sing along

6. Beverly and Karen wearing fabulously sparkly dresses and singing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough"

There were loads of songs and fun performances all around, but I'm going to end off here. The concert went on until about 11:30, and following its conclusion, I shared a goodbye with Dani and went back to the hotel where I went directly to sleep.

Tomorrow, after all, was going to the final and most thrilling part of the adventure yet!

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

The Bride • Chapter 11

The Dressmaker: Shopping with Tommy comes with some surprises.

Prologue (if you haven’t read The Bride yet) • on ao3

Esme paused at the place where the trees met the long grass of the hill. Looking out across the landscape, she thought that the image was almost close to perfect. A stream cut across the fields to the west, and to the east, the trees' shadows were quickly shrinking against the rising sun. The two horses, roan and grey, were grazing a small distance from the fire, which Tommy had put out. He was wrestling with the tent, had on a fixed expression of seemingly permanent frustration when a lick of wind tugged the canvas this way and that in his hands.

If only there were a couple dozen wagons over there, in the grasslands below, a few fires burning, the sounds of children mixing with the low murmur of the running water. That would be the good life.

This, though, was only close enough to be dangerous.

Esme had desperately underestimated him, that had been her mistake. All that time in Birmingham, and she'd thought she understood him, but thinking back now, it was only in the past day or so that they'd ever had a minute alone; even that night at Ada's, there had been the baby between them. So now she saw the enemy more clearly, and the worst of it was not his lies, his violence, his family, his callousness, or his appetites; he could simply be who he was and that still left her fucked ten times over.

She'd like to blame that night on the situation alone. But in the woods there was nobody to lie to, so why bother? The city could help, though. She had been happy in Birmingham before, in moments: with Karl cooing in her arms, with Ada laughing at the newspaper, with John and Arthur rising to meet the noonday rush. If she could string those moments together more closely, she could make a good life of it. She just had to get back there.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy. She just walked across the grass, stood next to him as he settled the saddlebags on his mare, and said, "I think we should go back now, cut this short." She could've added, Polly's going to need a hand with the wedding, but then, no. She'd rather not have him talk to her like she was other people, so she wouldn't do it to him. It was close enough to a lie.

"I thought the same," he said, and that was it.

They talked quietly and pleasantly, in little snatches here and there, of small and irrelevant things: of Rupa's abrupt, suspicious woman; of Arthur's nascent boxing career cut short by the war; of Lizzie's ailment and Polly's slight softening towards her. But it was so casual, so blatantly on the surface, that to Esme, it only highlighted that there lay depths below. She didn't let the discomfort show.

By the time they reached the stables, trading the horses for the car with a brief hello to Curly (possibly the most charmingly friendly man she'd ever met), Esme had moved on from the complex miseries of the night to the much smaller, pettier, and more solid miseries of a thicker air, a dimmer sky, and an uglier landscape. She got lost in her head, thinking about whether all that factory smoke might make for weaker lungs or stronger ones, when Tommy stopped the car and said, "Here."

"It looks like fucking London."

The shop windows were clear, or as clear as any window could be after a half-day's worth of Birmingham traffic; the dresses on the mannequins glowed under soft lights. One of them was sleeveless altogether.

Tommy smiled. "Not exactly Selfridges, but Polly's come here once or twice. When there's been a good haul or a celebration."

As they got out of the car and crossed the street, Esme caught a young woman walking with a pram down the sidewalk, giving them both a funny look. She decided to ignore it. "Is this where you go?"

"No, I still get my suits made in Chinatown."

"Of course you do."

He opened the door for her, an anomaly that she forgot all about the second she walked in.

Before them spread a veritable sea of clothing in a rainbow of colors, enough to paralyze even the most confident woman. For fuck's sake, Esme had made most of her dresses herself. Where would she even start? She picked a direction at random and found herself looking at the beading on a delicate sea-green dress that suited neither her complexion nor her life, something suited to a flapper, something she'd never wear. She could feel the eyes of the shopgirls on her--it was midday, after all, and not on a Saturday--and did her best. This was some gesture on Tommy's part, after all, and fuck it'd been a long time since she'd last had something new. All her scarves and earrings, pawned to pay back what they owed, not to mention her mother's necklace--

"Tommy!"

Beaming at them was one of those rare women who managed to look exquisite without looking breakable, with a magnificent mane of tawny hair dark eyes that would put a doe to shame. She stood there, almost expectantly, looking at them.

Tommy met her with the rare, soft smile he usually reserved for horses and babies and old mates from the war. "Esme, this is Astrid Jurossi. She was a couple years younger than me in school. Astrid, this is Esme. My wife."

"Oh." Astrid took  her in, and suddenly Esme was aware there was likely still a bit of grass in her hair, likely too many wrinkles in her dress.

"His unbridled gypsy wife," Esme said dryly, and whatever she'd expected in return for that, it certainly wasn't a quick and lovely smile of appreciation.

"Pleased to meet you," Astrid said, and Esme was astonished to find herself believing it. The shook hands.

"Astrid, you're needed in the backroom." A disapproving woman built like a pencil with a bun on the end was bearing down on them with remarkable and frightening speed and smoothness, looking down her nose at Astrid with the unmistakeable air of a manager. Tommy's lips parted and Esme stepped on his foot. She hated the woman on sight, too, but she'd be damned if she was going to be embarrassed by her husband in a fucking department store with all the shopgirls looking. Tommy took a small step back, slipping his shoe out from under hers.

"Bye," said Astrid, just as the manager said, severely, "Can I help you?"

Esme looked her up and down with all the raw condescension of a policeman surveying a campground he was about to tear up. "No," she said finally, meeting the woman's eyes. "I don't think so."

Shopping was so much easier when she had an enemy. Esme surveyed the rows of dresses and finally came to one, white and gold, intricate but fluid. She walked to it, felt the sleeve between her fingers. The woman followed, hovering just over her shoulder, and Esme had to give it to her; she was persistent, at the least. Esme turned to her. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think," the manager said, coolly, "You may have mistaken this shop for another. The place you want is Mrs. Hart's, down on Union and Sixth."

"You're right," said Esme slowly. "It'd be a shame to get blood on something so pretty."

When she smiled, she made sure to show teeth. When she left, Tommy followed right behind.

"I can come around later and put in a word with--"

"Don't. My feelings are fine." They settled into the car. "Although I may be in love with Astrid. She's a heartbreaker, isn't she?"

Tommy cleared his throat. "She is a Jurossi."

Esme sensed she'd scored an unexpected hit, but she hadn't been trying to. There wasn't a need for it, and Esme had known that since Astrid first walked up. She had seen the way he looked at Grace and that wasn't it. There was something else, but she couldn't place it.

"Isn't Union to the south?" she said, looking out the window.

"You're taking that woman's advice?"

"Dika Hart's place may have been suggested as an insult, but better our coin goes to a Roma than that bitch. Besides, it's about time I met the Birmingham branch of our people, and I think she may be related to my second cousin."

"Polly knows them all. She could tell you."

"For once, I'd like to meet someone on my own terms, without a Shelby as introduction."

"As you wish."

Hart's dress shop was tiny and a little disorganized but within minutes Esme was already deep into it, five pairs of chandelier earrings in her hand and three dresses thrown over her arm.

An old woman in an long red jacket came out from the back of the shop and squinted at Esme, not critically, just directly. "Do I know you?"

"Esme Lee." Esme held out her hand, and at the handshake, she felt a ripple of relief and warmth go through her. Something of home was still here, even if the wagons weren't.

"Esme, very good to meet you. I'm Dika." Dika settled into a tall chair behind the counter. "So what happened? Why aren't you with the Lees? I heard they left camp days ago."

"They did. I forgot for a minute, it's funny." Esme wanted to laugh, but it wasn't actually funny. "I forgot. I'm not Esme Lee. I got married to Tommy, the middle of the Shelby boys, son of Mary Shelby, who was a Cavanaugh herself before she was married. He's just out there, having a smoke." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder.

The woman peered over the counter at the grey shape of Tommy's wool-clad shoulders, barely visible in the small window set in the door.

"Put the dresses down, child. Come here."

Esme did as she was told and Dika grabbed her hands. There was something profoundly disturbing about the strength of the grip beneath her the tissue-frail, feather-soft skin. "Listen to me, Lee. You need to be prepared for that family. I can tell he's charmed you, but that family is nothing but poison and ashes."

Esme's pulse jumped, and she had to hold herself in place to match Dika's dark eyes. "I know they're bookmakers. I know they get into fights. But it's all right. Kimber's gone, the copper's going. It's going to be all right. The family, they're all right. Everyone that's not an enemy gets spared."

"How do you account for the imprisonment of Freddie Thorne? Or the death of little Tim Whelan? Or--"

"Who?"

"Timothy Whelan went to Marcus Gates' place to take boxing lessons one day. Arthur Shelby beat him to death with his fists. He wasn't any older than fifteen. His brother covered it all in money, and made it all go away. That's the man you married."

"That's not..." None of this made sense, but Dika's eyes were iron in a way Esme couldn't doubt. She swallowed. She was scrabbling for excuses and she could hear it in her own voice. "I know he had a bad time of it after the war. It's shell shock, but he's all right now. Polly says he's come a long way."

Dika's fingers tightened, painful now in their urgency. "That wasn't 1918, child," she rasped. "That was two weeks ago."

A scrape and a sudden wash of fresh air announced the opening of the front door.

"I was thinking you should pick something up for Lizzie. A wedding present," Tommy said, and then: "Esme?"

There was a single moment of mute horror when Esme felt acutely that both Dika and Tommy wanted to protect her from each other, and that somehow, they were both right. But then the storm gathered on Tommy's face and Esme tore her hands away. "We need to go," she said.

"What did--"

"Let's go, Tommy." She shoved him back towards the door, out it, into the wind.

"Are you all right?"

"Get in the car."

When they were two blocks away, he finally said, "What is it now? I've seen those eyes before, Esme. I thought we were done with misunderstandings."

"This isn't one you can talk your way out of."

"Try me."

She looked down at her lap. The bare bones of it was so terrible that she was almost afraid to say it out loud, because it sounded unreal to the point of foolishness. "Did Arthur beat a boy to death two weeks ago, and did you cover for him?"

He was silent long enough for it to be an answer. And how many times now had she felt this awful feeling of suddenly realizing the earth beneath her wasn't fucking solid? God, she was so weary of it all, and angry, angry in a way she could feel vibrating in her fucking chest.

"Tommy."

"He didn't mean to. It just comes over him, sometimes. It's been hard for him, returning from the war, and--"

"We've all had a fucking hard time of it!" she shouted. "Half the country's mired in nightmares and the other half is dead! But you don't see everyone going out and killing boys, because that would be the entire next generation done for!"

"What did you think this family was, Esme? Did you think I'd let him go to the fucking gallows?"

"I thought he was a good man! I thought--he rescued me from Campbell, he took me out to drinks my first Friday, he taught me some of the accountant's shorthand. I was fucking--I was going to ask him to teach me how to fight, I thought I'd need to protect myself. From Campbell, from the coppers. I didn't think I'd have to protect anyone from him! I didn't think he'd be a fucking danger to just whoever breathed near him!"

"That's what a brother is, Esme."

"No! A brother is not by necessity a murderer, a brother is only the son of a shared mother, and God bless her but she was not my mother. This is not my family. Every fucking time, I think it is, and you prove me wrong. You keep me half-blind, like I'm other people, like I'm not a Shelby. This is not my family."

A grim silence settled over the car for a moment. And then:

"Be honest, Esme." He went slow, now, grave, and a little sardonic. God, she hated that voice. "This isn't Arthur alone. It's all for the same reason that you wanted to 'take a walk.'"

"Yes, Tommy. You're right. My feelings about you covering up the murder of a child are all down to my untouched cunt. You've done it! You've solved the mystery. Sherlock fucking Holmes."

Still slow, now, still controlled: "At some point, you'll have to stop seeing your father in every other man."

This was genuinely fucking breathtaking. It took her a minute. Maybe more than a minute. But then it all came pouring out. "You think I didn't fuck you because I was worried you'd betray me? That's fucking--you already have. You already have. You want to know why I had to go for a walk? Because you can't take me just because you're lonely. Why would you think that's automatic? Why do you think I would be looking to eat Grace's leftovers?"

The car screeched to a stop.

"That," he said, quietly, dangerously, "is the last time I'll hear you say her name."

For a moment, staring, Esme thought he might lay hands on her. For a moment she wanted him to. She'd prefer by far the clean blood of breaking his nose over this tangle of thorns. But then he didn't, and she spoke.

"This is your problem, with me and with every other person in your entire fucking family. You think of everything as a one-way street, and you don't understand when money and power and some useless mirage of safety aren't enough to make up for it. You can talk about my father, but I can't talk about Grace. You can demand honesty, but you can't give it. We all serve, and what do you do? A family is not a fucking company, Thomas. No matter how much you might want to run it like one."

She opened the door and climbed out. "I'm walking to Ada's." She slammed the door shut. The car sat there for a heavy second, then shot away.

Chapter Twelve • The Visit (unwritten): “Would you have come with me, if I’d asked?”

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