#finn Shelby fanfiction

[lilacsnid]

Don’t You Think It’s Time? — 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 (𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙏𝙒𝙊)

PART ONE  ✘

It had already been a couple of weeks since the night of the encounter. Y/N didn’t let the incident stop her from going to work and seeing her patients. As she rode through the streets of Small Heath, she would often catch glimpses of Finn Shelby. Whether it was outside The Garrison or anywhere else where he seemed to of been running errands.

Whenever the pair would lock eyes, it’s almost as if time stood still.

Y/N would blush, and Finn would feel his heart pick up it’s pace just from the mere sight of her. She was driving him crazy. They would smile at one another or perhaps even wave. However, no words were ever said due to the fact that both of them were busy whenever their paths would cross.

On this particular day, something was different. It was another early start for Y/N, though she didn’t mind. As much as she loved her job, she couldn’t deny how excited she was to have the weekend off.

Finn had woken up that morning with that same feeling in his chest he’d get whenever he would see her. He hasn’t been able to think of anyone else apart from her since that night. She was all he could seem to think about. It didn’t help that the vision of her would visit him in his dreams, almost every night.

He couldn’t go on another day. The thought of her this time simply wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her before he really did go crazy.

The youngest Shelby sat up against the headboard of his bed, slowly rubbing his hands over his tired face. Flicking open his pocket watch, it read to be 11:37am. Usually he would be up much earlier than this, but fortunately for him; his weekend had started early.

Tommy was away on business in London and Arthur had everything covered in his absence. With the amount of jobs his brothers have had him doing these past couple of weeks, Finn wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity of having a weekend off.

To do whatever he wanted. With a particular someone.  

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The day went by fairly quickly for Y/N. It was around 4:00 in the afternoon, which meant her weekend had finally started. She didn’t have any plans, but she didn’t seem to mind. After a busy day, there was nothing else that excited her more.

That’s what she thought, until she caught a glimpse of Finn Shelby. Suddenly, there was nothing else more exciting than seeing the man she had been longing for since he had walked her home only weeks ago.

He was in his typical Peaky Blinder attire. He was wearing a dark grey suit with a typical white dress shirt and a matching vest underneath. He wore a blue tie, having a diamond pattern on it. Y/N liked it, she thought it suited him.

He wore the signature cap with pride, and she noticed a cigarette between his fingers as he leaned against the wall. He looked confident this way, and it made her nervous. But in the best way possible.

As she began getting closer to the bike shed, he noticed her out of the corner of his eye. His head turned, as he was met with the girl he hadn’t managed to stop thinking about since he had first laid eyes on her.

She was already smiling, which lit up her whole face. Her eyes were bright, and Finn knew it was going to be a challenge to not stare into them and make himself weak in the knees. He took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground an making his way over to her.

Y/N put her bike away, grabbing her nursing bag before turning to face him.

“Well if it isn’t Finn Shelby!” She said, her heart going a million miles an hour due to the fact that she was finally standing across from him.

Finn gave a cheeky smile in response, taking his cap off as he stopped in his tracks, “Hi love.”

Love, he was using pet names now. If he kept going she wasn’t sure how she would be able to cope.

“How you doing?” he followed up, running a hand through his hair and looking down at her.

“I’m good, yeah,” She nodded her head, “Just been keeping myself busy.”

Finn tilted his head to the side slightly, “I know the feeling.”

Her gaze narrowed slightly, in a humorous sort of way, “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”

Her words caused him to look at the ground for a second before glancing back into her eyes, those beautiful eyes.

“Well,” Finn started, a wave a nerves suddenly washing over him.

A few seconds went by, the two of them just staring into each other’s eyes as if everyone in the whole world had stopped existing for a short moment and they were the only ones left.

Finn broke the silence, “Fancy getting out of Small Heath for a bit?”

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The pair were now in the car. Finn in the driver’s seat with Y/N next to him. As they drove out of Small Heath, watching brick buildings being replaced with green fields, it’s like they could feel all their worries disappearing away. 

Y/N had changed into a dress before they left and had taken her hair out, letting it fall free over her shoulders and back. 

She was leaning against the window on the passenger side of the car, looking out of her surroundings. While she was admiring the landscape, Finn couldn’t seem to stop admiring her. She looked so comfortable and it was invigorating for Finn to see her this way. 

He couldn’t help but steal glances between her and the road ahead of him. He loved hearing her comment about how lovely the land looked, or how she would smile at him, or even how her hair would be picked up by the wind coming through the window. 

He was growing rather fond of this girl, even more so with every minute that passed while they were together. 

The pair of them were beyond glad that they were finally spending some time alone together, on happier circumstances this time. She knew she had nothing to worry about while she was with him. 

Y/N had this overwhelming feeling of adoration and proximity, he made her feel alive.

“Where exactly did you say we’re going again?” She giggled, the sound making him grin from ear to ear.

“I didn’t,” he joked, “But we’re nearly there.”

She shook her head at him with a smile, leaning back into the seat.

Finn wasn’t sure what came over him as he took one hand off the steering wheel, reaching out for her own. Y/N placed her hand into his, loving how it felt so familiar.

She took notice of his family ring that he wore on his index finger. It was a gold ring with a black gemstone, which glimmered in the light.

He squeezed her hand, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to glance at her, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she beamed, “I trust you Finn Shelby.”

That was all he wanted to hear in that moment. His heart fell back into it’s normal rhythm, feeling reassured in the fact that she still felt safe with him. 

Without a second thought, Finn lifted her hand to to his face. His eyes were still watching the road as he placed a kiss to the back of her hand, his lips lingering for a few seconds. 

Y/N was in awe of him, wanting to commit this exact moment in her memory forever.

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

It was only about 15 minutes before Finn pulled the car over near a bridge.

He turned the car off and faced her, “We’re walking from here, it’s not far. Is that okay?”

Y/N nodded, opening the car door, “That’s fine!”

The two of them jumped out of the car. It felt good to stand up after being sat down in the car for at least an hour and a half. As Y/N was waiting for Finn to walk around to her side of the car, she closed her eyes momentarily. 

The air around them was pleasantly warm. The sun was low in the sky, meaning the sunset shouldn’t be too far away.

Finn stood beside her, looking down at her with a smile, “You ready?”

Y/N nodded, taking his hand as he reached out for her’s once again. 

Finn led the way down a concrete path, surrounded by trees. The pair chatted comfortably as they walked for a few minutes. 

“Not long now,” Finn reassured her as they kept walking. She noticed the path had started to end and they were now walking on grass, down a small hill. She held onto Finn’s hand tightly, not wanting to trip and embarrass herself. 

Y/N could start to hear the sound of flowing water getting increasing louder as they kept walking through the trees. Finn soon halted as she stood beside him, swinging their arms slightly to which their hands were still linked. 

“Wow,” Y/N exclaimed, taking in her surroundings. 

In front of them was a large bed of crystal clear water, in a clearing surrounded by trees where the sun was starting to cut through. There was a small waterfall at the very top. The soft sound of running water was like music to her ears.  

The sun was visible behind the trees as it was slowly setting. 

She dropped Finn’s hand, making her way over to the edge of the water. She knelt down on the soft grass, running the tips of her fingers through the water. 

“What do you think?” Finn questioned, placing his hands in his trouser pockets while smiling down at her.

Y/N marvelled the beauty in front of her. She glanced over her should to look at him, “I think it’s beautiful.”

In this moment, she decided to act on her impulsive thoughts. To Finn’s utter shock and surprise, Y/N stood to her feet rather quickly as she started to unbutton the front of her dress.

Finn’s eyes widen at this, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going for a swim, care to join?” She chuckled, still trying fiddle with the buttons on her dress.

“Y/N,” Finn spoke, trying not to let the thought of her unbuttoning her dress do things to him, “It’ll be freezing. I’d hate for you to end up getting sick!”

She grinned, glancing at him over her shoulder as her dress began to fall slowly off her shoulders, “The water feels fine. C’mon! I thought you were a Shelby; you’re not scared are you?”

Finn breathed out through his lips, shaking his head with a grin plastered across his face as he started taking off his suit jacket.

“You’re a lot braver than me Miss Y/L/N,” Finn spoke as he turned around, wanting to give her some privacy.

She took another glance over her shoulder and watched as Finn took his gun holster off from around his shoulders. She couldn’t help but think about how attractive he looked and how he made her feel certain ways that gave her butterflies in her stomach with excitement.

Once Finn had stripped down to his boxers, he turned around, the sight nearly making his eyes pop out of his head.

There she was, standing in the water just up to her ankles in nothing but her undergarments. Finn instantly stopped from trailing his eyes down her figure, shaking any inappropriate thoughts out of his head. He respected this girl too much.  

He made his way down to her and stood by her side, hardly being fazed by the temperature of the water. Purely to be bold; instead of staying by her side, he kept walking until the water was up to his waist. Turning around, he noticed she still stood in place.

“Who’s scared now?” Finn raised his eyebrows, staring into her eyes from where he stood.

Y/N chuckled, “It’s actually colder than what I once thought.”

He smiled softly, slowly holding his hand out to her, “C’mon sweetheart, I promise it’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

By god, she adored the man standing in front of her. She already knew she would follow him anywhere.

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and she slowly made her way towards him. She resisted the urge to squeal as she kept walking, but she couldn’t control the way she screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of the cold water making it’s way up her legs.

She glanced up to find that as she was slowly making her way forward, Finn took a couple of steps back, starting to trek a little deeper.

“Don’t you dare move, Finn Shelby!” She warned, not wanting to take her eyes off him.

He chuckled in response, now standing completely still in place, “I’m sorry. I won’t move.”

As she neared closer to him, Finn met her halfway so she wouldn’t have to walk as far.

“You doing okay?” Finn questioned as he stood in front of her.

The two of them were so close to one another that she could feel the warm radiating off him. Just like the night when he saved her and the way he sheltered her from the rain.

“I’m better now,” Y/N looked down momentarily before starting to look back up at him through her eyelashes.  

Finn smiled, reaching his hand out once again, “Still feeling brave?”

She shrugged her shoulders with a growing smile, taking the hand he was offering in her own.

He nodded; slowing starting to walk back further into the water, expecting her to follow him. She took one step forward and squealed, yanking him back. Finn laughed at her reaction, stepping forward to stand close to her once again.

“It’s freezing!” She whined, not daring to let go of his hand.

Y/N reached up before Finn had the chance to speak, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He chuckled at her reaction and felt her legs start to snake around his waist, holding onto him for dear life. Finn carefully wrapped his arms around her back and slowly started to walk further into the water.

She had her head resting against his, shutting her eyes as they were now almost completely submerged in the water. 

He could hear her whimpering and laughing into his ear, “See how brave you are?”

The pair chuckled in unison and soon fell into a comfortable silence. Finn stood his ground, swaying slowly as they continued to embrace. Y/N hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear her heart thumping against her chest. The only sounds to be heard were the water flowing, the call of birds and their breathing. It was pure bliss.

“Don’t hate me,” Finn said out of nowhere. Instead of waiting for a response he slipped under the water for a couple of seconds, taking her with him.

After they resurfaced, they still held on tightly to one another.

“Finn!” Y/N screamed in disbelief, wiping the water from her eyes.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and against her skin. Y/N kept her arms wrapped around his neck, but loosened her grip slightly as she glanced up at the sky.

“Look at all those colours,” she whispered, taking in all the beauty above them.

The sky had now changed colour. Turning all different shades of blue, purple, pink and orange. It made this place feel like she was in a dream.

As she glanced up to the sky, so did Finn. However, his eyes were only on the sky for a few seconds before they began trailing over her face.

He took in every single detail. The way her cheeks were a light shade of pink, the subtle freckles that grazed over certain parts of her face, her long eyelashes, even the way small droplets of water fell down her face. He couldn’t control his ever growing feelings for her.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Y/N instantly glanced down at him, not believing she had heard the words correctly that had just toppled out of his lips.

She noticed the way he was intently looking at her with hooded eyes. A look of astonishment. He was in awe of her, and he wasn’t trying to hide it in any way.

They both stared into each other’s eyes, neither of them wanting this moment to end.

Y/N smiled, leaning forward to press her forehead against his. She kept playing the words in her head, over and over again.

“Say it again,” she whispered, her breath hot against his face.

Finn kept looking at her through hooded eyes, moving closer to her if that was even possible. He kept one of his arms wrapped around her and trailed the other up her spine until he reached the back of her neck, cradling her.

“You,” he started, dropping his head down to place an innocent kiss to her chest; right over her heart, he could feel hear her hum in contentment.

“….Are so beautiful,” he finished the sentence, his gaze never once leaving her plump and pink lips.

Y/N smiled, not being able to contain the trapped words anymore, “Kiss me, Finn Shelby.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Finn met her eyes one more time before gently placing his lips onto hers. The two of them sighed in relief against each other’s lips. He pulled away slowly, just for a moment before leaning back in.

They kissed slowly and sensually, never wanting it to stop. Y/N felt his hands rubbing comforting circles into her back, making her feel like she was floating. Finn then moved his hands from her back to her thighs, keeping her in place against him.

Y/N hummed against his lips, not being able to hide how good he was making her feel. She let her arms unwrap from his neck, and placed her hands against his shoulders instead.  

Finn could feel her start to run her nails gently up his neck and to the back of his head, running through his hair before she cupped his cheeks, not wanting him to ever pull away.

A few more minutes had passed before they both pulled away, giggling as their foreheads rested against each other once again.

“You’re all I’ve been able to think about since we first met,” Finn whispered against her lips.

Y/N grinned, rubbing circles into his cheeks as she continued to cup his face, “So have you.”

Finn groaned, causing her to laugh as he pecked her lips once more, “Can we just stay like this forever?”

“I have no objections against that, Mr Shelby.”

3146 words

©lilacsnid

[collecting-stories]

The Lakes - Finn Shelby

Summary: reader contemplates all the ways they’ve fallen in love with Finn.

A/N: this is just some fluff nonsense that I found half finished in my drafts.

← Folklore Masterlist | TS Anthology Series →

✰ and I want you right here ✰

“You know what that’ll do to you?” Finn was already lighting up your cigarette as he asked the question, watching you draw in a breath of smog before blowing it back out, hazy and white in the dusk of Small Heath. His own cigarette lingered between his fingers as he waited for your answer, as if he was dependent upon a reply.  

“I’ve a mind to find out,” you replied, looking away momentarily, back down the street where he’d come from, the looming church in the distance. “My mum says it’s not proper.”  

You could hear her voice in the back of your head, lithe but shrill, warning you that bad habits would chase away good suitors. There was only one you had in mind, the same one you’d been saying since you were small. You could remember still, even looking at him now all tall and lean like his brothers (save for Tommy who’d inherited his mother’s height), toking on a cigarette as if he were contemplating the whole of the world, the way your heart had pounded up into your chest the first time you laid eyes on Finn Shelby in a different light.  

Ten years old, troublemakers in your own rights, Polly used to remark that the pair of you were thick as thieves whenever she saw you playing together. When you were little, dirty knees and scraped palms seemed like the perfect forever. You couldn’t imagine a different kind of life, the world was only as big as Small Heath and you had everything you needed right on Watery Lane. It wasn’t all true anymore, you’d seen London and Edinburgh and heard stories from Grace about America. The world was vast and you had an itch that begged for exploration. But everything you needed was still right there, in the middle of Watery Lane behind a black door. Tall and lean and ginger, with a smile that melted your insides and made your heart feel warm. He had freckles like constellations across his face and shoulders and other places that would make your mother blush if she knew you’d seen them. 

“If your mum wanted you to be proper she’d have kept a closer eye on you,” he teased, eyes lighting up as he smiled.  

“You think that would’ve stopped me?” You asked, as if Finn wasn’t as magnetic as the sun, pulling you into his orbit with little effort. A smile directed at you was enough for him to have your whole heart.  

“Not at all,” he replied, curls bouncing as he shook his head. His hair was unusually unkempt, soft ginger curls enticing and free of gel. His typically shaved sides and back grown out just enough that you could run your fingers through it but not grasp it yet. He’d trim it by the weekend for the party but for now, he’d let it go. Finn liked the uniform look of the blinders, mostly because it meant that people recognised him immediately. If not instantly as the youngest Shelby brother than at least as a blinder. But he knew you liked when he didn’t bother with fixing his hair. The beeswax tended to make you break out in hives when you came in contact with it and more than looking like a blinder, Finn liked the feeling of your hands in his hair.  

He was rewarded for going without the product when you reached out and brushed some fringe out of his eyes, fingers dancing along the freckles on his face as you cupped his cheek. Your other hand held your cigarette, somewhat over the idea of smoking with Finn. You’d suggested it, if only because he said he had to get back home and you were trying to stall him.  

“Are you still going to London this weekend?” You asked, a faint smile gracing your features as he turned his head into your hand and pressed a kiss to your fingers.  

He hummed, green eyes meeting yours, “are you going to come with me?” He’d been asking you to go back to London with him whenever the opportunity arose. You’d been once with your family and once with him (something that your mother had not been thrilled to discover) and Finn had been clear about wanting to take you back to the city.  

There was a charm about London that didn’t exist in Small Heath. This town was your whole world but sometimes it felt suffocating, everyone knew Finn and by association, you. There wasn’t a place you could go that you could just disappear into the crowd, where it could just be you and Finn without the pressure his brothers provided.  

London meant work but it was also a city too big for everyone to know who Finn was. When he got away from whatever his brothers needed him for and it was just the two of you, there was something distinctly peaceful about it.  

“My mum’s not keen on me going down to London,” you replied, even though it was silly to mention. Finn was well aware of your mum’s opinions though it always surprised him that she didn’t try to keep the two of you apart.  

“Is that a no?” He asked, taking another drag of his cigarette when you pulled your hand away.  

You placed your own between your lips but then removed it just as quickly, as if it was only a place holder while you were debating what to say. “No.” You shook your head, “I’ll go.”  

Finn’s face lit up, eyes sparkling and smile ear to ear. You swore a little piece of your heart ached at the look of absolute happiness he gave you, so much like the ten year old boy you once knew, and folded away the image for another time. You could’ve spent the rest of your life carefully annotating every look that crossed Finn Shelby’s face, every emotion that he felt charted for you to recall someday when he wasn’t with you anymore and it was all memories.  

“Someday you won’t have to worry about your mum’s permission,” Finn mentioned it as if it was something he’d considered before.  

“Doubt it’ll matter if I’m married, she’ll be there giving me her two cents about whatever I’m doing,” you replied, “though I’ll hopefully not be under the same roof.”  

“Pol‘ll just drive you mad instead,” he mused, “though she’s always had a soft spot for you.”  

“I’m moving in with Polly when I get married?” You asked, mirroring back the happy expression he’d had moments ago. 

“Maybe just at first, then we’ll get a place. Like Tommy, out in the country and away from the smog.”  

“Wouldn’t matter to me,” you mused, “I’d brave the smog for you.”  

[dreamerschroniclesofstories]

I love your work I got a request for Tommy Shelby

So you are tommy daughter or the youngest Shelby sister and u are 2 years old

And Arthur or John or Finn is looking after u and u get sick and tommy’s not home at the moment so she just cries until he gets home no matter how hard the others try to console her and then when he gets home and he holds you stop crying and fell asleep hope that make sense

Hey love! Of course i can do this request for you!

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR TRANSLATION OR POSTING ON A DIFFERENT SITE.

Summary: request above.

{Y/N}: Your name.

Word count: 1,023.

Once Finn was born, the Shelby clan felt like the family was complete, they hoped their parents would stop having children since they were barely looked after by them.

However, just under two years after Finn Shelby was born, [Y/N] Shelby entered the world. The second daughter of Arthur Shelby and youngest sister to the Shelby brothers.

Since she was born, she had a handful of health issues, ranging from constant illnesses to developmental delays. This caused her to look younger then she is and resulted in Polly becoming very cautious of going outside with the young girl. When [Y/N} was taken outside, Tommy and Polly would make sure she had on at least three layers.

However, the winter had been brutal on the young girls body, it had snowed for the first time in ten years in Birmingham, and like any other child {Y/N} wanted to go outside and play with the the playful swirling snowflakes coming down from the sky. Polly knew it wasn't safe but the young girl was growing and seeing snow in Birmingham was a rare occasion. She let {Y/N] go outside for ten minutes.

Two days later, Polly had regretted that decision. Polly had woken up that morning expecting the young girl to be awake in her bed waiting for her aunt to take her downstairs to make her breakfast. Instead Polly had found her niece still asleep curled up in her bed, from where Polly was standing she was able to see {Y/N]'s skin glistening with sweat.

The middle aged woman immediately walks away from the child's room, going to Tommy's room and knocks on loudly, knowing her nephew would be awake, Polly opens the door " get dressed and go to the doctor down the road" she demands.

Tommy stood up quickly, puling on a pair of his tailored trousers then followed by putting on a shirt " {Y/N] again?" he asks, he knew it was for his sister but asked anyway.

" i don't know whats wrong with her yet" Polly uttered, her voice full of stress and panic.

Polly rushes back over to her nieces room, walking over to the young girls bed, wrapping her arms around the fragile body of her ill riddled body of the youngest Shelby.

{Y/N} small mouse like voice breaks out from her throat "pol" she whispers, her voice cracking, squirming slightly. The young girl was uncomfortable, the warmth from her fever coming through in bursts, her night clothes soaked in her own sweat.

The sound of Tommy leaving his room followed by the sound of the front door opening and close less then a minute later reassured Polly that help would soon be on the way.

Three hours later.

It had been hours since Tommy had left the house, he had not come back. {Y/N]'s fever had gotten worse as the hours past, Polly had given her several cold water baths to try and bring her fever down but nothing was helping.

The sickly young girl had become distressed, her wailing voice filed the small Shelby home. Her brothers and aunt doing everything they could think of to comfort her.

" Don't hold her like that Finn, that will just make her more upset" the eldest Shelby brother barked at his youngest brother.

Finn was holding his sister under armpits and arms length away from him. " shes contagious"

Arthur grumbles and stands up from the dinning room table, stalking towards his siblings, taking his sister gently from the arms of his brother. " You're a Shelby Finn, you've got other things you should be more scared of" Arthur points out.

The eldest Shelby, holds his sister, his hand on the bottom of her back whilst his other arm sat under her legs to support her weight, The young girl lays her head on her brothers shoulder hiccuping as she cries.

" where is bloody Tommy" Arthur grumbles, looking towards Polly as she walks out of the kitchen holding a cloth. The older woman walks over to Arthur, gently wiping the cold cloth against the forehead of the sickly looking child.

" He's coming Arthur, doctor is probably busy with other children sick from this weather"

" Other children aren't {Y/N} pol, she could di--" Polly quickly interrupts Arthur.

" don't be ridiculous Arthur" Polly hissed.

However, Arthur wasn't wrong and Polly knew this, her niece was already weak from birth and the doctor had warned the family that {Y/N} could die from becoming ill, its just the matter of what will kill her and when.

Luckily, the sound of the front door opening and shutting filled the chaotic family home of the Shelby's. Footsteps clunking towards the room filled with hiccups, coughs and wailing.

The sight of Tommy Shelby was a relief for Polly but when she didn't see the doctor her stress levels turned up a notch. Tommy takes his cap off followed by his jacket.

Tommy walks over to his older brother, Arthur transferring his sister over to him " the doctor will come in a few hours, he is full today with other patients" Tommy explains.

Polly runs her slender fingers over her eyebrows, sighing " her fever isn't breaking Tommy, shes making herself worse by crying" his aunt vents.

The sight of the most feared Shelby rocking his youngest sister as she holds one of his fingers wasn't a rare sight for the family, since {Y/N} was born it was clear her and Tommy had bonded incredibly quick and nothing could break that bond.

The house slowly began to become quiet, the occasional hiccup and cough appeared, Tommy sits on the couch, his sister slowly closing her eyes, her body relaxing for the first time since the morning.

Polly laughs and shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips. " i should have known" she smiles.

Finn frowns and looks towards Polly " known what?" he asks, oblivious.

Polly grabs a cigarette from her metal case and uses a match to light it, then sits down at the dinning room table for the first time since waking up.

" All she wanted was her Thomas".

A/N: Hello again, i apologise for the long wait for this, life has been hectic and i had no time to post anything but i finally have time to post on here! i appreciate all the Reposts, Likes and Comments.

[novashelby]

Can we all just stop being so aggressive with one another? I'm not going to pin it on one pro-ship or the other, but guys, our fandom is so small. Why do we have to get aggressive and jump down each other's throats over a ship? It has gotten to the point where we can't even state our opinions without getting attacked. TV is a form of art, and we are allowed to individually look at it and form our own interpretations. In such a small fandom, why can't we just be peaceful and understand this? I'm all up for debates, but they are hardly ever debates or conversations, but aggressive attacking. Not everyone has to like Tommy/Grace, not everyone has to like Grace, not everyone has to like Lizzie/Tommy, etc. But guess what? I promise you, you will survive knowing that not everyone likes your favorite character and/or ship.

In the great scheme of things, it's not that big. Yes, fandom and fanfiction are fun hobbies that may help us through dark times. But that being said, it isn't that deep in the sense that we have to be so fucking invested that you attack a REAL PERSON on the internet. Why are we like this? Seriously. If you are like that, honestly, go play outside. Go for a walk, please. Because like I said, in the great scheme of things, it's not that serious. It's suppose to be fun.

Peaky Blinders has lost a lot of it's fandom. I think it's best we just be civil to one another and accept opinions, even if it's not in line with our own.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk....

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Oooh! Absolutely love the older!reader story! It got me thinking, what about sugarmommy!reader?

On My Dime

(28) Cillian Murphy x (47) SugarMommy! Reader

Summary: Just a cute little fic!

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings: You’re 6’1 btw

tall! reader!, sugar mommy! reader, dom! reader?!, lovey dovey things from Cillian, passenger princess! Cillian, kissing, teasing, spoiling.

Cillian leaned back in the plush leather chair of the study, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the armrest. The walls, lined with an extensive collection of books, seemed to close in slightly, their spines whispering stories of past intellects. 

The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the room, creating an almost ethereal ambiance. His piercing blue eyes, framed by a hint of crow's feet, flicked towards the door every few seconds, listening for any sound that might indicate the end of her phone call. He could hear her laughter echoing through the grand hallway, her voice a melodic contrast to the serious tone he was trying to maintain for the interview. He shifted in his seat, the crisp fabric of his tailored dress shirt; that she had gotten made for him, began rustling softly. His mind, though focused on the questions posed by the interviewer on the computer but he couldn't help but wander back to her. She was an enigma to him – a powerful woman who exuded confidence and grace, her success evident in every facet of her life. The way she moved, the way she spoke, even the way she handled her phone calls with a mix of charm and assertiveness, it all fascinated him.

"Cillian, can you tell us more about the women your dating?" the interviewer’s voice brought him back to the present.

Cillian cleared his throat, his Irish accent thickening as he began to speak. "Ah, well; she's very reserved and I rather not talk about her and I's relationship."

He glanced towards the door again, imagining her standing there, listening in, a playful smile on her lips. He could picture her perfectly – tall, statuesque, with a commanding presence that made even the grandest of rooms seem small. Her dark hair, always impeccably styled, and those striking eyes that held a wealth of secrets. He loved watching her work, the way she twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she spoke, a gesture that was both casual and intimate. Outside, she paced the length of the living room, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The vast space of her home, with its modern decor and expansive views, served as the perfect backdrop for her high-powered conversations. She held her phone close to her ear, her tone a mix of frustration and amusement.

"And he can't be mad at me – I told him to pull his money out of the market and he didn't, so it's not my fault. But he's saying it is because I didn't personally do it myself," she said, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation.

Her friend on the other end of the line must have said something funny because she let out a soft, genuine laugh. "Don't make me laugh, Cillian's in an interview in the study," she added, her tone affectionate when she mentioned him. Back in the study, Cillian's lips curved into a small smile. He loved hearing her laugh, a sound that always managed to brighten his day. The interviewer, oblivious to the source of his distraction, continued with another question, but Cillian's mind was still half-focused on her. This one, though, was particularly grating. The interviewer, a persistent man with a grating voice, had a penchant for prying into his personal life. Cillian’s patience was wearing thin, the desire to end the conversation gnawing at him.

"But the people want to know about her, come on just-"

Cillian's sigh was heavy, laden with irritation. "I've said no," he interrupted, his tone firm and unyielding. "She doesn't like being in the public eye. Let her be." His voice carried a subtle threat, a warning that this line of questioning was unwelcome and would not be entertained further. The interviewer, sensing the unspoken menace in Cillian's voice, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Any other questions about my projects? About me, anything at all?" Cillian's gaze was intense, his piercing blue eyes locked onto the interviewer's through the computer screen, as if daring him to cross the line again.

The interviewer, cowed by the actor's palpable displeasure, quickly wrapped up the session. "No, that will be all. I appreciate you talking with me today." The screen went dark, and Cillian let out a long, relieved sigh, leaning back in his chair. The silence of the room was a welcome reprieve from the barrage of intrusive questions. He glanced toward the living room, where she was pacing in her heels, the sound of her steps a rhythmic click against the marble floor. She was on the phone, her voice carrying a note of exasperation as she spoke to a friend. "He's just a large cunt, a large one..." She felt Cillian staring at her, her body whipped around and her eyes met Cillian's, and she raised her hand in a questioning gesture, her eyebrows arched in curiosity.

Cillian waved her over, signaling that he was finally free from the interview's clutches. She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. "Well, I've got to let you go. Cillian needs to talk with me... Call you back--okay--bye bye." She ended the call, her voice trailing off as she made her way to the study. The sound of her heels against the marble floor was almost hypnotic, each step deliberate and measured, the click-clack echoing through the quiet house. Her presence was magnetic, drawing his eyes to her every movement. She stopped in front of him, her smile widening as she took in the sight of him slouched in the chair, the tension of the interview still lingering in his posture. She was a striking figure, her tall frame accentuated by the fitted black suit she wore, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was perfectly styled, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup was impeccable, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and full lips. There was an air of confidence about her, a commanding presence that filled the room.

As she stood before him, her hand extended, and he took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth and strength in her grip. As she pulled him to his feet and into her embrace, he sank into her, letting the comfort of her body envelop him. She was a full head taller than him, her frame imposing yet gentle as she held him close. Her hand moved to his face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, her touch light and affectionate. She smiled down at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that spoke of genuine care.

"Mind fried?" she asked, her voice soft but knowing. He merely nodded, the weariness of the day weighing heavily on him. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her chest. The scent of her – a mix of expensive perfume and something uniquely her own – was intoxicating, a balm to his frayed nerves.

"Yeah..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her. He could feel her fingers threading through his hair, the gentle motion soothing. She rested her chin on the top of his head, her humming creating a vibration that resonated through his body. It was a simple gesture, but it made the silence between them comfortable, even comforting.

After a few moments, she lifted her chin and gently took his face in her hands, tilting it up so their eyes met. Her gaze was steady and warm, filled with an understanding that required no words. Her thumb brushed his cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the tenderness of the moment.

"I've got to pick a couple of things up from the store. Do you want to stay or come with me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Before he could respond, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, the touch brief but sweet. He opened his eyes, meeting hers with a small, grateful smile. "I'll come with you," he said, his voice low and earnest. There was something about her presence that made even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure, a respite from the chaos of his own thoughts.

Cillian watched her move through the space with an air of effortless grace and confidence, each step she took purposeful and deliberate. The way she gathered her essentials – wallet, sunshades, and the keys to her Aston Martin DB11 – spoke volumes about her meticulous nature. His eyes followed her every motion, appreciating the poise she exuded in even the simplest of tasks. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it, and Cillian found that incredibly attractive. As she moved towards the door, he hurried over, ready to open it for her. The gesture was small, but it was a testament to the respect and admiration he held for her. He stood at the door that led to the garage, waiting as she turned off the lights in the house. The silence of the moment was comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding between them. When she approached, he opened the door, allowing her to step through first.

"Thank you, Cill," she said, her voice a soft, appreciative murmur. She pressed the button for the garage door opener, and as it slowly rose, Cillian stepped inside with her.

"Anything for you," he replied, his voice carrying the familiar lilt of his Irish accent, a warm smile playing on his lips. The afternoon sun began to filter into the garage, casting a golden glow over the array of cars parked within.

She unlocked the Aston Martin and started the engine, the soft purr of the machine a soothing sound. Cillian moved quickly to her side, getting ahead to open the door for her, a gentlemanly act that made her chuckle softly. As he shut the door behind her, he couldn't suppress a small sigh, the sound of leather against leather as he slid into the passenger seat, buckling up. She caught his eye, her hands already gripping the steering wheel with a practiced ease that made his mind wander briefly to less innocent thoughts. He quickly pushed those aside, focusing instead on the moment at hand.

"Hopefully your crazy fans aren't looking for you today," she remarked with a playful grin, as she carefully navigated the car out of the garage. The way she maneuvered the vehicle, creeping slowly to avoid any potential damage to her other prized possessions, was a testament to her attention to detail.

The remote in her hand closed the garage door behind them, and they started their journey out of the fenced perimeter of her massive manor. The slow drive through her property was another ritual, a careful inspection to ensure everything was in place, nothing amiss. She took her time, ensuring no stone was unturned. Reaching the gate house, she rolled down the window and punched in the gate code, the mechanism whirring as the gates parted to allow them passage. She always waited, watching the gates close behind them before moving on. It was a small but significant habit, one that spoke of her need for control and security. Turning to him with a smile, she noticed he was lost in thought, his gaze fixed out the window. She reached out, tapping his thigh gently before gripping it slightly. The touch brought him back to the present, and he sighed softly, placing his hand over hers, relishing the simple contact. As they drove through the streets and the bustling city, Cillian allowed himself to relax, enjoying the role of passenger princess. The city life buzzed around them, a stark contrast to the quiet opulence of her manor. Her hand remained on his thigh, a grounding presence as they navigated through the urban landscape.

The drive was filled with an easy silence, punctuated by the occasional comment or shared glance. Cillian found himself stealing glances at her, admiring the way she handled the car with confidence. The city seemed to bend to her will, just like everything else in her life. He appreciated these moments of simplicity, where it was just the two of them against the backdrop of a bustling world. Her wealth and status were impressive, but it was her grounded nature and genuine affection that truly captivated him. As they merged onto the highway, the Aston Martin's engine roared to life, its deep, throaty growl reverberating through the luxurious cabin. It was a reminder of the power she wielded, not just in the car but in life. She handled the car with the ease of someone used to commanding attention and respect. The sleek, leather interior cocooned them, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside. Cillian sat in the passenger seat, his lean frame relaxed but alert, his sharp blue eyes glancing at her with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

He glanced over as she signaled and merged left; smoothly overtaking slower vehicles, her movements precise and confident. Cillian watched as she turned her head; Cillian turned his head and his and her gaze narrowed at the drivers they were passing. "How the fuck can you be on your phone and on the highway?!" she exclaimed, her tone a blend of exasperation and disbelief. Cillian smirked, shaking his head slightly. "People are mad," he muttered, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. He felt the rush of acceleration then he sighed, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes for a moment as she accelerated, the speedometer creeping past ninety. The world outside became a blur of colors and shapes, the cars they overtook transforming into indistinct streaks.

She expertly maneuvered through traffic, the Aston Martin responding to her every command with an agility that matched her own. He trusted her implicitly, her skill behind the wheel a testament to her competence in all areas of her life. Eventually, the high-speed pursuit eased as they approached their destination: Erewhon. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where they could indulge in the finer things without the constant harassment of paparazzi or fans; it was a fancy ass supermarket. He recalled when he heard about a particularly chaotic incident with another celebrity that had cemented Erewhon's reputation as a safe haven for the famous. Cillian recalled past incidents during their outings to Erewhon had saved them from being disrupted by unwanted attention, he was grateful for a place to uphold such a high set of rules.

She navigated the parking lot, opting for a secluded spot far from the other vehicles. "No one can fucking drive where we live," she muttered, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. Cillian smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards in silent agreement. "There's a pair of sunglasses in the glovebox if you want them," she remarked, her fingers deftly unbuckling her seatbelt and beginning the meticulous process of shutting down the car. Cillian reached into the glovebox, retrieving the sunglasses and slipping them on. The world darkened through the tinted lenses, but it provided a shield against prying eyes. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he stepped out of the car with a fluid motion, the door closing behind him with a satisfying click. He rounded the front of the Aston Martin, each step purposeful yet unhurried. Reaching her side, he opened the door with a gallant gesture, extending a hand to assist her out of the low-slung vehicle. She accepted, her smile warm and appreciative, a silent exchange of gratitude in the brief wink she sent his way.

He closed the door behind her, the action as natural as breathing, and they stood momentarily in the parking lot, a picture of poised elegance. She locked the car, the soft beep of the alarm engaging as they made their way towards the entrance of Erewhon. Cillian's hand found its place at the small of her back, a subtle yet protective gesture as they navigated the sparse crowd. Inside, the atmosphere was a blend of exclusivity and tranquility, the kind of place where wealth and discretion mingled seamlessly. Cillian walked beside her, his presence understated yet unmistakable. He observed the surroundings with a practiced eye, noting the occasional glance of recognition from fellow patrons, yet they were largely left undisturbed.

Their shopping was a well-orchestrated routine, each selection a testament to her refined taste and his willingness to indulge her preferences. He offered quiet commentary on various items, his voice a low murmur tinged with his Irish accent, a comforting sound in the hushed environment of the upscale market. As they moved through the aisles, their dynamic was evident in the small, unspoken gestures: the way he reached for an item just as she looked at it, the subtle nod of approval she gave when he made a particularly insightful observation. They operated in a rhythm that spoke of deep understanding and mutual respect, a partnership that extended beyond the superficial.

She moved with the grace of someone accustomed to commanding attention, her height and poise setting her apart. Cillian followed closely, his presence quietly supportive, his eyes attentively tracking her movements. "Honestly, prices have gone up a lot," she remarked, her voice tinged with mild frustration as she gazed at a display of fine wines in the next aisle over. Cillian watched her, noting the furrow in her brow and the way her eyes flickered with a mixture of exasperation and contemplation. She sighed softly, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand responsibilities, before her gaze returned to him. A sudden realization sparked in her eyes, and she turned on her heel, striding purposefully towards him. Her presence was magnetic, drawing him in as she closed the distance. When she cupped his face, her touch was both commanding and tender, a juxtaposition that sent a thrill through him. She gently pushed him against the shelf, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that left him breathless.

"Cill- I've got to pick up some files at my office..." Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it resonated with authority. He nodded slightly, his mind already racing with the implications of her words. She moved closer, her breath warm against his skin, and the world around them seemed to blur into insignificance. "Do you want me to drop you off at home or do you want to come with me?" she asked, her gaze unwavering, searching his eyes for his answer. In that moment, the choice was simple. He could never resist the allure of being by her side, no matter the destination. "I'll go with you," he replied, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to the words. The decision was not just about accompanying her; it was about sharing every aspect of their lives, standing beside her through mundane tasks and extraordinary moments alike.

"......Good boy......," Her smile was a radiant confirmation of his choice, and she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, exploring with a possessiveness that made his heart race. He responded in kind, their tongues dancing together in a rhythm that was both familiar and electrifying. Her body pressed more firmly against his, pinning him against the shelf with a dominance that left no room for ambiguity.

When she finally pulled away, a long, thick line of saliva connected their lips, a tangible testament to their passion. She wiped it away with her thumb, her eyes never leaving his. He blushed deeply, the warmth spreading across his cheeks as he tried to steady his breathing. Her hand remained cupping his face, a lingering touch that grounded him even as his mind spun with desire. As she stepped back, her attention shifted back to their shopping cart, the moment of intensity giving way to the practicalities of their outing. Cillian took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. The taste of her still lingered on his lips, a reminder of the connection that burned brightly between them. He moved to stand beside her, his hand lightly brushing against hers as they resumed their shopping. The mundane act of selecting groceries felt charged with the undercurrent of their earlier exchange. Each item placed in the cart was a silent testament to their shared life, a series of choices that bound them together in a dance of mutual understanding.

Cillian's mind wandered as they continued through the aisles, reflecting on the complexity of their relationship. She was a force of nature, a woman of immense wealth and influence, yet with him, she revealed a vulnerability that few ever saw. He cherished those glimpses, the moments when she let her guard down and allowed him to see the softer side beneath her commanding exterior. Their bond was a delicate balance of power and intimacy, a dance they navigated with care and respect. Cillian admired her for her strength and intelligence, qualities that had propelled her to the pinnacle of her career. At the same time, he valued the quiet moments they shared, the simple joys of being together without the trappings of their public lives.

As they approached the checkout, Cillian could feel the weight of the day easing. The prospect of accompanying her to her office added a layer of excitement to their routine. It was another facet of her world he was eager to explore, another opportunity to stand beside her and witness the brilliance that defined her professional life. He packed their purchases with a meticulous attention to detail, each item placed with care. She watched him, her eyes reflecting a blend of amusement and affection. There was an unspoken language between them, a series of gestures and glances that conveyed more than words ever could. When they finally left the store, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the parking lot. Cillian opened the car door for her, a small act of chivalry that felt natural and right. She settled into the driver's seat with a satisfied sigh, the engine purring to life as she prepared to drive them to her office.

When they arrived at her office, the building loomed tall and imposing, a symbol of her success and determination. Cillian followed her inside, his eyes taking in the sleek, modern design that spoke of efficiency and power. She led him to her office, a space that was both elegant and functional, a reflection of her personality. As she gathered the files she needed, Cillian wandered around, admiring the artwork on the walls and the carefully curated decor. Everything in this space was a testament to her meticulous nature, her drive for perfection. He felt a surge of pride, knowing that he was part of her world, a trusted confidant and partner. When she was ready, they left the office together, the files securely in her bag. The drive home was quiet, a comfortable silence that spoke of their deep understanding. 

As they pulled into the driveway, the Aston Martin DB11's engine purred to a halt. She deftly shifted the car into park, pressing the button to open the trunk with an elegance that spoke to her familiarity with such a high-end machine. Cillian unbuckled his seatbelt, the click of the mechanism punctuating the tranquil silence that had settled over them. He stepped out, the sun casting long shadows across the pristine pavement, and moved to her side, opening the door with a smooth, practiced motion. She emerged from the car, her movements fluid and confident. "Thank you," she murmured, her smile warm and appreciative. Cillian returned the gesture with a nod, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, a subtle acknowledgment of their unspoken routine. She gathered her keys, wallet, sunglasses, and a stack of legal files, her arms laden with the tools of her trade.

He watched as she made her way inside, setting everything down with a purposeful efficiency before returning to assist with the groceries. They moved in tandem, a well-rehearsed dance of domesticity, each trip to and from the car marked by a silent rhythm. Cillian carried the bags with ease, his lean frame belying a quiet strength, while she matched his pace, her height and grace lending an air of effortless command. Inside the kitchen, they began unloading the bags, the clink of glass jars and rustle of paper bags filling the space. Cillian meticulously arranged the items, his movements deliberate and precise, reflecting his penchant for order. He glanced at her occasionally, appreciating the focused determination etched on her face as she worked.

"Feels like we’ve bought half the store," he remarked with a faint smile, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. She laughed softly, a sound that resonated warmly in the sunlit kitchen. "Well, we do like our luxuries," she replied, her tone light yet tinged with genuine contentment.

After several trips, they finally emptied the trunk, the last of the bags deposited on the kitchen counter. She thanked him again, her eyes meeting his with a sincerity that transcended words. Taking her keys, she headed back out to pull the car into the garage. Cillian watched her go, a sense of admiration settling over him as she maneuvered the sleek vehicle with ease, the garage door closing behind her with a quiet hum. He began unpacking the bags, methodically placing items in their designated spots. She soon joined him, their movements synchronized in a silent symphony of familiarity and mutual respect. Together, they transformed the chaos of groceries into a well-organized array, each item finding its place in the pantry and refrigerator.

The task took time, but they worked efficiently, their partnership evident in the seamless flow of their actions. Cillian enjoyed these moments of mundane intimacy, where the outside world receded, leaving only the comforting presence of each other. He appreciated the simplicity of the task, a stark contrast to the often chaotic nature of his public life. As they finished, Cillian turned to her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "All set," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. She moved closer, her silhouette framed by the setting sun that filtered through the expansive windows. Her presence was commanding, a reminder of the power she wielded, not just in her career but in every aspect of her life. Her arms encircled his waist, drawing him into a gentle embrace. Cillian's own arms responded instinctively, wrapping around her, pulling her closer. He felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest, a comforting reminder of the life they shared. They lingered in this embrace, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and shared memories. Cillian's mind drifted, reflecting on the unlikely circumstances that had brought them together. He, an actor still finding his footing in the world of cinema, and she, a seasoned lawyer and investor, her name a fixture in the corridors of power and influence. Yet, in moments like these, their worlds melded seamlessly.

She pulled away slightly, her hands coming up to cup his face. Her eyes searched his, filled with a tenderness that made his heart ache. "You're everything I could ask for and more, Cillian, y'know that?" she murmured, her voice a soft caress. He lost himself in her gaze, the depth of her affection evident in every line of her face. Her hands were warm against his skin, grounding him in the reality of their connection. She let go of his face only to lift him effortlessly by the waist, placing him on the cool marble countertop. He watched her, a small smile playing on his lips, his feet dangling as she stood before him, her height accentuated by the difference in their positions. "Pretty boy, you know that?" she teased, her voice light yet laced with sincerity. Cillian chuckled softly, his hands resting on her shoulders. "Aye, I reckon I've heard that a few times," he replied, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. His eyes twinkled with amusement, but beneath it was a deep-seated gratitude for the way she saw him, not just as an actor or a public figure, but as the man he was in these quiet, intimate moments.

As she stepped closer to him, the cool air of the spacious room contrasted with the heat building between them. Her hand cupped his face with a tenderness that belied her powerful exterior, her fingers tracing the contours of his jaw as if memorizing every detail. Cillian's eyes met hers, the intensity of her gaze filled with love and desire. Her proximity was intoxicating, her presence a heady mix of authority and warmth. As their lips met, the world around them seemed to fade away. The kiss was fervent, a collision of passion and longing. His hands found their way to shoulders, fingers pressing into the fabric of her suit, feeling the strength and softness beneath. Their tongues danced, exploring and tasting with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Cillian moved forward, his legs wrapping around her waist, drawing her closer. The movement was instinctual, a physical manifestation of his need to be as close to her as possible. She responded seamlessly, her other arm encircling his waist, lifting him effortlessly off the countertop.

He felt weightless, suspended between the cool marble and the warmth of her body. Her strength was astonishing, a stark reminder of the disparity in their physical power. Yet, it was also comforting, a symbol of the security and stability she provided. As she carried him, their lips remained locked, their kiss deepening with each passing second. The pantry doors provided a new backdrop to their fervent embrace. Cillian felt the wood against his back, a solid counterpoint to the softness of her lips and the firmness of her grip. Her movements were deliberate, each step a testament to her control and determination. She pressed against him, her body a seamless extension of her will, holding him in place as their kiss intensified. He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them. "You’ve got a way of makin' me feel like I'm flyin'," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper tinged with his Irish accent, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "That's because you are," she replied softly, her voice filled with a blend of love and confidence that only made his heart race faster. She leaned in again, capturing his lips with renewed fervor, the heat of their kiss contrasting with the cool air of the kitchen.

Cillian’s hands roamed her back, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric, a tactile reminder of her strength and resilience. He marveled at how effortlessly she held him, her power tempered with a gentleness that made him feel cherished and protected. Her kiss was a blend of passion and possession, a declaration of her feelings that left him breathless and yearning for more. As she pressed him against the pantry doors, the kiss deepened, their tongues exploring with an insatiable hunger. Cillian’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, their bodies moving in a rhythm that spoke of deep-seated desire and mutual understanding. Her hand on his face guided the kiss, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw, grounding him in the intensity of the moment.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps between kisses, the heat of their bodies mingling in the cool air of the kitchen. Every touch, every kiss was a reaffirmation of their connection, a silent promise of the depth of their feelings for each other. Cillian’s world narrowed to the sensation of her lips, her hands, and the solid presence of her body against his. The intensity of their embrace was almost overwhelming, a physical manifestation of the love and desire that bound them together. She held him effortlessly, her strength a constant reminder of the power dynamics that played out between them. Yet, in this moment, it was not about power but about connection, about the raw, unfiltered emotions that flowed between them.

As she finally pulled back, her breathing heavy, Cillian looked into her eyes, seeing the same depth of emotion reflected back at him. "You make me feel invincible," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. Her smile was radiant, her hand still cradling his face. "That’s because you are to me," she replied, her voice soft and sincere. She leaned in for one last kiss, a gentle brush of lips that was both a promise and a reassurance, sealing the bond between them.

In the quiet aftermath, they remained entwined, their foreheads resting together, breaths mingling as they shared a moment of profound intimacy. The world outside might demand their attention, but here, in the sanctuary of her kitchen, it was just the two of them, lost in the depths of their love and desire.

Author's Notes:

I meant to post this yesterday but I got sidetracked; and had things come up. So here it is but idk about it. Do I like it? yesn't

Don't know really, lately I've just been burned out; but I feel like I owe everyone something every time I write..also does this count as a size kink? I don't think it does?....

however I've been working on the last ask but I'm just having I hard time with it because I can't see Cillian as a Dom; like he's a bottom in my eyes unless he's being a dick and not asking before doing it; you get what I'm putting down? I have one of those ones on the backlogs ready to go but it's fucking dark and I don't know about it.

[wonderlanddreamer]

[1923] Watery Lane, Birmingham.

In the aftermath of a violent ambush on their home, the Shelby family must act quickly to help Lydia, who has been struck by a bullet.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, injury, and blood.

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The Shelby home, once a bastion of strength and family, now lay in disarray, its proud facade marred by the violence that had shattered its peace. The front door hung askew on its hinges, an ominous welcome to the chaos within. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, mingling with the splintered wood of furniture that had been upturned in the frenzy. The wallpaper, once pristine, was now marred with bullet holes and streaked with soot, a testament to the gunfire that had torn through the house like a relentless storm.

In the hallway, a mirror lay cracked and discarded, its fractured surface reflecting the turmoil in jagged pieces. Family photographs, once lovingly displayed, were now scattered across the floor, their frames broken, and images of happier times lying amid the debris. The once comforting hearth in the parlour now seemed cold and distant, its warmth extinguished by the violence that had invaded.

The betting shop, a symbol of the Shelby enterprise, fared no better. The smell of burnt paper hung in the air, mixing with the lingering scent of smoke. Betting slips and ledger pages were strewn about like leaves in a gale, their contents rendered meaningless amid the destruction. The counter, usually bustling with activity, was now a barricade of chaos, its surface scarred by stray bullets and splintered wood.

The shelves that once held stacks of coins and tidy ledgers were bare, their contents either pilfered or scattered in the melee. Chairs lay toppled and broken, a testament to the frantic struggle that had taken place. The safe, usually a symbol of security and prosperity, stood ominously open, its contents rifled through and discarded in the frenzy.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, its relentless patter a stark contrast to the silence now enveloping Watery Lane. It washed away the blood and soot, but it could not cleanse the memory of what had transpired. Despite the fear and uncertainty, the family was rallying as they always did—together.

The memory of the ambush replayed in Lydia's mind with vivid clarity. She had been running, heart pounding in her chest, when she spotted John ahead—a beacon of safety amid the chaos. But before she could reach him, a sharp, searing pain had exploded in her side, stealing her breath and sending her crashing to the ground. The world had spun around her, the sounds of gunfire and shouting stretching into a distant echo as she lay there, paralyzed by shock and pain. She couldn't quite recall which of her brothers had reached her side first, but there was no mistaking who had exacted vengeance on the man responsible for her injury. Despite her blurred vision, the sight of blood splattered across Arthur’s clenched fists was unmistakable. In a fit of turbulent rage, he had forsaken all weapons, choosing instead to unleash his fury with his bare hands. Each blow landed with ferocious intensity, reducing the man’s face to a grotesque, unrecognisable mess.

Now, Lydia lay curled on her bed, the very act of breathing a torturous endeavour. The bullet had left a jagged wound in her side, a cruel reminder of the violence she had narrowly escaped. Blood had soaked through her shirt, forming a dark, ominous stain that spread with each painful breath. The skin around the injury was angry and inflamed, radiating a heat that spoke of the body's desperate fight against the intrusion.

Her small hands, normally so full of life and mischief, clutched the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, as if anchoring herself against the tide of pain threatening to sweep her away. Her eyes, dulled by agony and fever, flickered to her Aunt Polly, seeking reassurance in her steady presence.

Polly Gray moved with the grace of someone who had faced crises such as these before. Her heart ached for Lydia's suffering, but she buried her emotions beneath a mask of calm determination. She gently dabbed at the wound with a clean cloth, her movements careful and precise, trying to soothe Lydia's pain even as she prepared to alleviate it further.

The room around Lydia seemed to blur, the world reduced to a haze of pain that refused to relent. Each breath was a struggle, a sharp reminder of the bullet lodged in her side. Her pale skin felt like it was on fire, the wound throbbing with a relentless, searing agony that no amount of reassurance could ease. The damp cloth Ada used to wipe away her tears was a fleeting comfort, offering only momentary relief from the feverish heat that enveloped her.

Ada remained a tranquil presence, her gentle touch a beacon of calm in the storm of Lydia's suffering. Yet, despite Ada's soothing words and soft whispers, the pain clawed at Lydia's senses, drowning out the world around her. It was as if the hurt had taken on a life of its own, consuming her thoughts and rendering her oblivious to everything except the burning insistence of the injury. She had truly never felt anything like it, and never wanted to feel anything like it ever again.

Across the room, Finn stood beside Polly, trying to project an air of calm he didn't truly feel. His hands trembled slightly with the weight of responsibility, but he forced them to remain steady as he passed tools to Polly. Each time his fingers brushed Polly's, it was a silent exchange of strength and solidarity.

Finn's voice wavered as he spoke, reaching out to Lydia with a promise he desperately hoped to fulfil. "It’s going to be okay, Lyds," he said, his words laced with a mixture of hope and fear. But even as he spoke, he knew that his assurances were no match for the relentless pain that gripped his younger sister. His heart ached with the helplessness of watching Lydia suffer, wishing he could do more to ease her pain.

The door swung open and Tommy stepped inside, his presence commanding immediate attention. He carried with him a bowl of water in one hand and a cloth in the other. His appearance seemed to ease the tension in the room, his usually calculating gaze softened by concern as he looked at Lydia.

There was a tenderness in the way he approached, a complete contrast to the hardened leader he was known to be. His shirt was stained with blood, sleeves balled up to his elbows revealing injuries of his own that had been hastily patched up by John downstairs. Yet none of that mattered to him in that moment, his own pain of no importance to himself considering the juncture they were at.

As Tommy reached the bed, Ada quietly asked, her voice tinged with worry, “How are the others, Tommy?” He gave a brief nod as he set the bowl down with a gentle clink, his words concise but reassuring. “They’re managing,” he replied, not wanting to dwell on anything but Lydia at that moment.

Tommy carefully positioned himself on the bed so that Lydia could rest partially on his lap. His arms wrapped around her shoulders with a gentle strength, cradling her close against his chest. As Lydia settled against him, Tommy became acutely aware of the tremors coursing through her small frame. Holding her close, Tommy could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat against his arms, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turmoil within her. The sensation of her trembling tugged at something deep within him, a mixture of protectiveness and helplessness that he rarely allowed himself to feel. Tommy Shelby was accustomed to being the one in control, yet with Lydia in his arms, he was harshly reminded of the fragility of life and the limits of his power.

Lydia’s fear was palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around her like a vice, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. The anticipation of having the bullet removed loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she was dreadfully aware of the pain it would bring.

"T-Tommy," she whimpered, her voice barely rising above the fragile whisper of her breath. It was a plea born of desperation and fear, her small hands clutching at his arms as if they were the only thing anchoring her to this world. “Please don’t. Don’t let them touch it. It hurts so much.”

Tommy's heart clenched at the painful vulnerability in her voice, an abdominal ache that resonated deep within him. He wanted nothing more than to take the pain away from her and take it upon himself, but he knew this was a battle she had to endure, and all he could do was be there, steadfast and unwavering.

He kept his voice steady and soothing, a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of her fear. "I know, love. I know it hurts," he murmured, brushing his lips against the top of her head with infinite tenderness. His breath was warm against her skin, a tangible promise of his presence. "But you're the bravest of us all, you know that? You're our little soldier."

Lydia sniffled, her tears soaking into his sleeves as she clung to him, drawing strength from his presence. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, a reassuring rhythm that spoke of safety and love. "It will all be alright, little one," he whispered, his voice a soft rumble, each word a balm against her fear. “We're all here with you, Lydia. You're not alone, alright?"

Her sobs quieted into small, hiccuping breaths as she clung to him, drawing strength from his presence. Tommy nodded to Polly, signalling that Lydia was as ready as she could be. Ada and Finn moved to help hold her steady, each offering murmured words of encouragement, their touches gentle and sure.

The moment Polly began her work, time seemed to slow, stretching each second into an agonising eternity. Lydia's scream tore through the room, a raw, anguished sound that pierced the air like a knife. It was a sound that clawed at Tommy's heart, each note of her pain resonating deep within his soul. He held her tighter, as if his embrace could somehow shield her from her suffering.

"It's okay, little one. I'm here. I’ve got you. Just a little longer," he whispered, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. He stroked her hair with a gentle hand, keeping her as steady as his strong arms would allow.

Polly worked with expert precision, her hands steady even as her heart ached for Lydia. She murmured soft reassurances as she carefully probed the wound, her fingers deft and sure despite the gravity of the task. The room was tense with anticipation, each person holding their breath as Polly continued her delicate work.

John and Arthur appeared in the doorway, drawn by the sound of their sister's distress. Their faces were grim, shadows etching deeper lines into their already weathered features. Each of them bore their own marks of the recent clash, Arthur’s knuckles were completely wrapped in bandages while John’s skin and clothes were still streaked with blood. They stood silently, knowing that too many hands would only add to the chaos, their presence a silent vow of solidarity and strength. Tommy caught their eyes, a brief exchange of looks that spoke volumes. At that moment, words were unnecessary.

Time seemed suspended, each moment stretching into an eternity filled with Lydia's cries and Tommy's whispered reassurances. Polly's focus was unwavering as she worked, her hands moving with a surgeon's precision despite the emotional weight of the task. Finally, with a deftness born of experience, she extracted the bullet.

The metallic clink as it fell into a dish was a sound that seemed to echo with finality, a signal that the worst was over. Relief washed through the room, palpable and profound, like a wave breaking against a weary shore. Lydia's cries subsided into soft whimpers, her body relaxing slightly as the immediate agony began to fade, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

Polly bandaged Lydia’s side with meticulous care, her touch embodying both the clinical precision of a healer and the tender affection of a mother. As she tied off the bandage, she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Lydia's forehead. "There now, darling," she murmured, her voice a soothing lullaby. "It's done. You're such a brave girl."

Tommy's hold on Lydia did not waver; he kept her close, his cheek resting atop her head, his heart swelling with relief and pride. The tension that had gripped him slowly began to ease, though his arms remained wrapped protectively around her, a fortress against the world. "You did it, Lydia," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, each word a gentle caress. "It’s over, you did it."

Lydia nestled deeper into his embrace, her small body fitting perfectly against his. She was exhausted but comforted by the familiar presence of her family. "I was brave," she murmured, a small, tired smile playing on her lips, the pain of the moment already beginning to fade, replaced by the warmth of her brother's love and the safety of her family.

"The bravest," Tommy agreed, shifting slightly so she could rest more comfortably against him. His hand continued to stroke her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring, his presence a sanctuary of safety and love. As the room began to settle, the tension slowly dissipated like mist under the morning sun.

Ada leaned forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lydia's face, her touch tender and full of affection. "You were amazing, Lydia," she said, her voice a soft murmur that seemed to wrap around them all. Finn stood at the foot of the bed, his shoulders relaxing as the crisis passed, his eyes filled with admiration for his little sister's courage.

Gradually, the others began to leave the room, understanding that what Lydia needed most now was rest. They departed quietly, their footsteps soft against the floorboards, leaving Tommy and Lydia cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room.

As Lydia's eyelids grew heavy, her body finally succumbing to the pull of sleep, Tommy adjusted his hold, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. In the quiet aftermath of chaos, as the candlelight flickered softly and the shadows danced less ominously, they were reminded once again of the power of family. Lydia drifted into a much-needed sleep, feeling safe and cherished, her brother's words echoing softly in her dreams.

Tags: @novashelby @lau219 @peakyswritings

Please like, comment and reblog.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Masterlist

Summary: (Begins at season 1) A young American woman accidently gets lost and left behind during her family trip in England. Now she's left alone in the sketchy town of Birmingham. What will happen when she meets a family rumored to be full of notorious and dangerous gangsters? Warnings: swearing, inappropriate language, guns

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[f64l]

Lovely tutoring by Tommy Shelby Pt. 1

summary | You are forced to marry Finn Shelby because your father owes the Shelby family a lot of money. Your parents' only wish is to have an heir to their small business the year after you marry. But when you are still not pregnant after four months of marriage, Thomas Shelby decides to help you and Finn. And he is shocked to discover that his little brother is not only unable to produce an heir, but also unable to please his innocent wife. 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!! unprotected sex, creampie, fingering), age gap (reader's age unspecified), kinda hurt/comfort (but like, kind of sexual comfort), slight manipulation/coercion since the reader is very vulnerable and confused at the time, inexperienced reader, praise, slight choking, mildly dubious consent

Last warning under 18 year olds!

You are sitting in the hard chair in front of your desk. You stare out the window. There's still half an hour before your father walks you down the aisle and hands you over to a man you barely know. A man you even fear a little. When you were relatively young, your parents' business wasn't doing very well. Until the Shelby family lent them money and they were able to expand the business. But now they can't pay back the money. Your parents will have to trade you for a debt-free life. You shiver and rub your red eyes. You haven't left your room since you realised you were marrying into this murderous family. Your maid brings you food and something to drink, and you have had a few visits from the dressmaker who made your wedding dress. ‘At least your parents still had money for that!’, the little voice in your head shouts mockingly. The silky fabric of the dress flows down your figure. The fabric is beautiful, but you don't find yourself attractive. You look much too young. Who thought you would make a suitable wife?

And how did your parents get the idea that you could give birth to a child within a year? If you didn't even think you were beautiful, how could a man? Besides, your mother didn't even try to explain to you how a woman gets to be with child. She just brushed you off when you asked, swearing that your future husband would take care of it and that you would soon understand what it meant to become a woman. You were still conscious when your mother knocked on your door. And also when your good-hearted maid walks you to the door of the car and hugs you goodbye. After those last moments of emotional consciousness you felt numb. You stared out the window of your car until you arrived at the church and your father pulled you towards the majestic wooden door. Now everyone was looking at you. You recognised your aunts. And your uncles, and their sons and daughters. You could see your little sister carrying a basket of flowers. You had done all this for her too. You don't look at your husband. And you don't look into his eyes when you're standing right in front of him. You look behind him. At a painting of Maria, mother of Jesus. ‘Please protect me!’, you beg inside your head. You don't notice you and your husband exchanging vows, and you only seem to wake up from this trance when you are sitting in a corner of the pub that belonged to the Shelbys. Your husband was getting drunk with his brothers and your father was enjoying himself too. But you couldn't even get up.

You follow Finn into your own house, which his big brother Thomas has bought for him. It wasn't too hard for you to say goodbye to your parents. But your sister and you cried a lot. Finn staggered and you helped him into your bedroom. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. There is a big bed, a wardrobe and a dressing table. Finn is fiddling with his belt. The metal brooches clink against each other. He has already tossed aside his elegant jacket and shirt. You can't help blushing. He is undeniably a handsome man. 

“What are you doing? Get undressed and get into bed!”, he slurs.

“What for?”, you ask, confused.

“Well, to get you pregnant, of course. That's what your parents want. Even if I don't want to have one with you. I don't love you at all.”, he staggers again and falls onto the bed. Even though he's drunk and would probably have said a lot of things differently if he hadn't been, his words still stung. Nevertheless, you begin to undress. You put your dress over a chair and lie down in your bed.

“No, you have to take off your undergarments too. Just like me! Don't you know how to fuck?”, he asks in disbelief. 

‘Fuck? What's that?’. Unsure, you also take off your nightgown. Why was that nightgown made when it isn’t even needed? You quickly try to cover your nakedness. You are startled when he pushes your legs apart and rubs his member until it is very hard and he moans. Without warning, he penetrates you and you try to get out from under him.  

You've never felt pain like this before. It burns as he begins to move inside you. You have to sob when he doesn't stop, even though you beg him to. But it doesn't take long for him to twitch and quickly pull out of you. He moans and pumps his member until a white fluid from it lands on your thigh. You shake and cry. Finn falls exhausted onto the bed beside you and turns to the side. You gently touch your wounded opening. There's blood on your fingers and you have to put a hand over your mouth so that Finn doesn't feel disturbed by your sobs. You slowly pull your nightgown back on and pull the blanket up to your chin. But you're still a long way from sleep. Is this how it feels to become a women? Is this what it's like to get pregnant? Then, you don’t want children at all!

Finn doesn't remember your first night together. And you don't tell him about your bad experience for fear he'll get angry. Almost every night he wants you to undress and perform this act with him. It almost always hurts. But not as much as the first time. And he always moans loudly, as if he likes it. Does he like moving inside you, or does he like hurting you? You can't really imagine. He's actually a very nice person outside the bedroom. Softer than his brothers and quite shy. Sometimes he'll bring you a flower he's bought from a shopkeeper, and thank you when you've cooked. You also get on well with his sister and aunt. And his brother Arthur is always trying to make you laugh. You don't talk to Thomas much, but sometimes he smiles at you. But there was still one thing bothering all of you. You still weren't pregnant. Polly told you almost every morning, and even a doctor could confirm it. Every time Polly mentioned it, Finn would look guilty, as if he knew what was wrong with you.

About four months after your wedding, Thomas asks you to come into his office. You sit bolt upright. Your eyes scan the room anxiously.

“I'd like to talk to you about your condition, darling. Or rather, the state you're not in.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry I'm not pregnant yet. I know it's a requirement for my parents.”

“Don't worry, sweetheart. Finn has as much to do with it as you, right?”

‘Yes’.

“Do you and Finn fuck a lot?”, embarrassed you look down at your hands.

“Almost every night he wants to.”, you mutter. 

“And you don't?”

“Not always.”

“Don't you like it?”, you feel the heat in your cheeks. This conversation is very uncomfortable for you.

“No, it just hurts a lot.” 

“Mhh, are you always wet enough, sweetheart?”

“Wet enough? Sometimes I bleed. Is that what you mean?”, he groans.

“No, for you to enjoy it, you have to be wet. So my brother's a bit of a handful, eh?

You shrug. You didn't have anything to compare it with.

“Have you ever come before?”

“Come? No, I don't think so. Is it bad if I had come before?”, he laughs out loud.

“But they really didn't tell you anything, did they?”, he touches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to help you both. I'm going to talk to Finn after that, and then i'm going to come and see you tonight, and then we'll see what we can get out of him. Alright, love?”, you nod uncertain. ‘How will he be able to help us?’

I'm so sorry it took me so long to upload the first part of this story. But I had to share a room with my little brother for a few days, so I couldn't really write or go on tumblr because I didn't want him to see this (you know what I mean?). Anyway, how are you today? And do you want to see part two? I'm just about to finish it. So let me know if you liked it or if you have any suggestions! Love you, bye!

[b-a-n-a-n-a-ss]

Finn Shelby x reader - pregnancy cravings

Summary: finn and the reader are engaged and are also expecting. One morning when they wake up the baby is hungry.

(They are both at least 19 in this)

Warnings: stomach noises, pregnancy, belly rubs, fluff.

—————————

I yawned as I opened my eyes. They morning sun was shining through the window and I turned my head to see my fiancé shifting.

He opened his beautiful eyes and smiled at me. I smiled back and he sat up on his elbow and we shared a passionate kiss. I giggled into the kiss and when we pulled apart he placed a soft hand on my belly.

He moved closer to me so my head was squished against his chest and he rubbed my belly. His eyes were full of love.

“I love you two so much.” Finn said and left another kiss to my head.

My belly moved a little and Finn smiled widely. He pressed on my belly gently and the baby kicked his hand. He giggled and kissed my lips.

We were enjoying our time together when my belly growled. Finn chuckled and stood up, helping me out of bed.

“Let’s go get that baby some food ‘eh” he said. I nodded and he held my hand and helped me walked down the stairs. I was only seven months pregnant and I could still do things on my own. But Finn wouldn’t know how to handle things if something happened to me or the baby.

We entered the kitchen and he sat me in a dining room chair. He looked through the cabinets and started naming off things for me to eat.

“We have cereal, crackers, a bunch of fruit, bread” when he named everything off my belly growled loudly when he said bread. He got some out and came over to me. He kneeled beside my belly and kissed it. He laid his head on it and closed his eyes with a smile of his face.

While he adored my belly it growled again. Finn chuckled and gave my tummy a kiss. He then cut some slices of bread for both of us and we ate together. While we ate he let his hand rest of my belly.

When we finished I was full and the baby was happy. Finn helped me to the couch and we sat together. He rested his head on my belly and I ran my fingers through his hair. He rubbed my under belly and smiled to himself.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” He said. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Him?” I asked. He nodded.

“I think it’s going to be a boy. But I’ll be fine with a girl too.” He said. I nodded and kissed his head. Then we both fell asleep with full bellys.

[lilacsnid]

Don’t You Think It’s Time? — 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 (𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀)

Part 2  ✘

warnings: mentions of violence, swearing & blood.

There was always something about Finn Shelby that made Y/N feel more alive than ever before.

The mere sight of him would make her heart swoon. The thought of him would make its way into her mind at almost every moment of the day, filled with his kind words and his gentle gaze.

She has had a yearning for him from the very first moment they had set eyes on each other.

Y/N L/N, the young 22 year old was fresh into her Nursing & Midwifery career. Riding around the streets of Small Heath on a bicycle, turning heads wherever she went. To begin with, she was utterly terrified. But she soon became more comfortable with every moment that passed and the streets of Small Heath soon became familiar to her.

She would never forget the night her path crossed with Finn Shelby’s. A wild turn of events that would soon lead to a beautiful friendship, and perhaps something more.

It was quite late into the evening, Y/N had just helped a mother to deliver another beautiful and healthy baby. The father had gifted her a small bottle of whiskey, followed by a chorus of kind and gracious words for her helping to bring his daughter safely into the world.

Even though she didn’t drink, she took the bottle, concealing it in her nursing bag that was strapped on the back of her bicycle.

She hopped on her bicycle, preparing herself for the long cycle home. The night was that cold that she could see her breath. She bid the family one final farewell before setting off into the night. She listened carefully to the sounds around her as she rode through Small Health. She could hear the sounds of rowdy men in the pubs, the occasional sounds of chatter and cars. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

Much to her despise, it had started to rain not long after she had left. She began to pedal a little faster, wanting to get back to the Nurse’s home as soon as she could. She still had around 20 minutes left of her journey.

She became extra vigilant, as her vision became impaired due to how hard it was starting to rain. She rode past The Garrison, another pub filled with music and rowdy men. She came across a darker part of the street that wasn’t lit up quite as well as near the pub. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. Or rather, someone. They seemed to be hunched over from what she could make out.

Out of pure instinct, she came to a complete stop. She hopped off her bicycle, mounting it against the brick wall. Remaining cautious, she decided to approach the person.

“Excuse me,” she announced herself, hoping whoever it was could hear her over the rain hitting the pavement, “Is everything alright?”  

As she came closer to them, the person started to stand up. She was now able to make out that it was a man, who turned to her with a smile that she could only describe as evil.

The man snickered, dropping the bottle of alcohol she had failed to see him holding in his hand. She flinched at the sound of the glass hitting the pavement quite loudly, smashing into a thousand pieces.  

“I reckon there is something you can help with, sweetheart.” The man spoke in a low voice, before grabbing her and slamming her against the wall before she even had time to run away.

“No!” she screamed, trying to fight her way out of his strong grip, “Stop! Leave me alone!”

She could smell the vile, strong scent of alcohol on his breath, turning her head away as his face kept coming closer to hers.

The man chuckled, tightening his grip around her wrists, “I’m going to have some fun with you, stop fucking moving you whore.”

Her knees felt weak, like she could topple to the ground in fear any second. She fought harder and more desperately as hercoat buttons were ripped from being pulled open so forcefully. Her tears were hot against her cheeks as the rain that kept hitting her skin.

She screamed. Wishing that someone, anyone at all, could hear her cries. The man kept clawing at the buttons of her uniform, trying to get them undone.

She had started preparing herself for the hell she thought she was going to face; but she soon heard someone yell out from behind them.

“Hey! Get the fuck off her!” she managed to glance up to see the man being pulled away from her. She had never been more grateful for being able to breathe properly now her attacker was no longer crushing her with his weight.

She was quick to wrap her ripped coat back around herself as best she could, watching with tired eyes as the scene unfolded before her. Whoever had saved her life was now above her attacker, throwing punches over and over again that she had lost count.

Her attacker was then slammed against the brick wall on the opposite side of the road to her, his face bleeding and broken. The other man, who she still couldn’t make out, took his hat off before turning it inside out. Even though it was dark, she couldn’t mistake the shine of razor blades hidden on the inside of his hat.

Whoever he was, he was a Peaky Blinder.

She knew who the Peaky Blinders were, and in any other case would be petrified. But in this moment, she felt somewhat safe. She knew she should probably make a run for it, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him.

The man slashed her attackers face, and she cringed after hearing him yell out in pain.  

“If I ever see you again,” he then points in her general direction, making her breath hitch, “And if I ever see you near her again, I will cut your eyes out of your fucking skull and I’ll watch you bleed. Do you understand?!”  

He then proceeds to throw him to the ground, not waiting to hear for her attacker’s response. The two of them watch him scramble to his feet and flee from the scene.

Y/N was stiff and hadn’t dared to move a muscle from the moment she was saved. There was something about her saviour that drew her in. She watches him turn around to face her, quickly making sure that her attacker ran completely out of his sight. They were still a few feet away from one another, staring at each other, not daring to look away once.

Looking closer, she realized that he was a young man who didn’t look much older than herself. She could see his shoulders moving up and down from how hard he was trying to catch his breath. His hair was now damp, droplets of water running down his face. He held his bloodied cap in his hand with a tight grip, not daring to let go.

There was something about him that made her feel a particular type of way. 

“I’m sorry, please, don’t be scared.” The young man broke the silence, beginning to approach her slowly, “Are you alright, did he hurt you?”

As he approached her, she couldn’t seem take her eyes off him. Not only was she grateful, but she was also mentally scolding herself for thinking about how attractive the young Peaky Blinder standing before her was.

Blood covered his white shirt that he was wearing underneath his dark grey suit, but she ignored it.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

She could see his face drop as he let out a small sigh, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

For the first time since the encounter, she offered a small smile towards him, “You didn’t. Thank you for helping me.”

“I wasn’t going to let that prick hurt you.”

Despite him being a Peaky Blinder, she could see something in his eyes. It was kindness, she could see it as clear as day. It was this kindness that had saved her from something awful. Something everyone fears. 

She glances down at his side, and without thinking, reaches out for his hand. His knuckles were red and bruised, there was blood from the amount of punches he had been throwing.

“You’re bleeding,” She spoke, concerned no longer for herself but for the young man standing in front of her. 

Her touch sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes for only a quick second, wanting to etch this memory in his mind of how soft her skin against his was.

It surprised him that this girl, who was only seconds away from pure terror, was no longer concerned for herself. She was concerned for him. He stole a glance at the nursing uniform underneath her coat. 

“I can barely feel anything, don’t worry about me,” he shook his head as he spoke, gently placing that same hand on her arm. 

After seeing her involuntarily flinch, he instantly felt bad. It was out of instinct, but she couldn't help miss his touch after he had taken his hand away. 

He led her out from the rain, into a small eve that sheltered them both from the rain. Again, they stood opposite one another; there being not much room between the two of them. She could the warmth radiating off of him due to the close proximity. 

He looked down at her small frame, noticing she had started to shiver. Without a second thought, he started taking of his suit jacket.

As he took of his suit jacket, she spotted the signature pocket watch tucked into his vest, along with the gun holster that was sitting on his shoulders that had been concealed underneath his jacket until now. 

He looked into her eyes, not needing to speak as he silently asked for permission. The space between them was small, but he managed to wrap his jacket around her. 

She glanced up at him gratefully, meeting his gaze and holding onto the front of his jacket to stop it from falling from her shoulders. She was engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes, it made her heart beat all the faster. It was comforting. 

“I’m Finn Shelby,” he spoke, his hands not once leaving her waist.

“Y/N L/N,” she responded. 

Her eyes trailed his face, admiring him. 

Finn smiled down at her, wanting nothing more than to make her feel safe. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her small frame until she stopped shaking. Resting his head on top of hers, the pair gently swayed in one another’s arms, listening to the rain as it began to fade away. 

“Would you let me walk you home?” he asked, pulling his head away to look down at her, suddenly becoming shy at the close proximity of their faces. 

She nodded, resting her forehead against his, “I’d like that.”

                                The pair soon set off into the night, Finn never once leaving her side. 

Y/N felt comfortable in his presence, knowing there was something special about him. It was like she had known him for her entire life, his eyes were so alive with promise. 

They had talked the whole way, both of them blushing when their arms would brush together. 

Their hearts fell just that little bit when they arrived underneath the bike shed at the Nurse’s home. 

Finn leaned against the wooden post as he watched Y/N put her bicycle away, unbuckling her nursing bag from the back. She held the bag by her side and glanced in his direction, smiling like she couldn’t help it. 

“Thank you for walking me home, and for being there for me. I can’t bear to imagine what would have happened to me if you didn’t show up.”

Finn smiled, leaning off of the post and standing up straight as she handed him back his suit jacket, “Anything to keep you safe.”

He could see that he had made the girl blush at his words, she’s so beautiful he thought. 

He shrugged his suit jacket back on, his gun holster now being concealed once again. The two of them stood in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, dreading the thought of having to leave one another. 

Y/N then rummaged through her nursing bag, Finn being confused once she pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. 

“Been drinking on the job?” Finn joked, looking back into her eyes.  

“No, uh..,” she chuckled, clearing her throat, “I was given this tonight from a grateful patient, I delivered her baby.”

Finn nodded, putting his hands in his pockets, “Boy or girl?”

“A little girl,” she smiled, “I don’t drink so I thought you could take this, consider it a thank you.” 

Finn laughed and took the small bottle she offered him, his fingers brushing against hers, “I’ll take it, but there really is no need to thank me.”

Y/N kept eye contact with him, unsure of what to say next. Finn managed to beat her to it, stepping closer so he was right in front of her. 

“Will I see you again?” he asks in a sort of hushed whisper. 

“You will,” she responded, a wave of confidence suddenly coming over her. 

She took one more step, her body now being pressed up against his. she slipped her hand through his jacket, placing her hand over his heart. She could feel it pounding through his chest as she reached up and placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, teasing him. 

“I’ll see you soon, Mr Shelby.”  

2272 words

© lilacsnid

[evita-shelby]

Reader insert Masterlist

Part 2

(Masterlist 1)

Ran out of space lol

Tommy Shelby

Only Joys will come (part iii of nights on the January)

Happy wife Happy life (drunk!Tommy x wife)

Promise (tommy x sick!reader)

Chance (tommy x ex!reader)

Ths Red Room (tommy x reader x eva) vampire!au

Torture (tommy x wife!reader)

Fatal Attraction (tommy x assassin!reader)

Cuddling(part 2 for happy wife happy life)

Death shall set you free (tommy x wife!reader)

The Devil of Small Heath (kelpie!Tommy x witch!reader)

A Dull Party (Tommy x Eva/Reader x Tatiana)🔞

Moon (tommy x witch!reader)

Lamb(sequel to moon)

Crawl home to you(tommy x wife!reader)

Dad!Tommy fics

Ghosts of New Year's Past (Tommy & Diane(oc daughter) & Polly’s Ghost)

Promise? (Tommy & adopted!daughter)

Luca Changretta

Persistence (luca x shelby sister)

The fabulous miss shelby (part 3)

Two for One (Luca x reader x Eva)

Jack Nelson

The professor

Hunt(vampire hunter au)

Michael Gray

Finn Shelby

Preacher's Daughter (kid!finn x Jeremiah's duaghter!reader)

Isiah Jesus

[runnning-outof-time]

Ok, I’m Curious…

Feel free to share and say why in the tags!

[dragonsneversharetheirtreasure]

Son of Man: Elijah Gray, Eric Shelby and Finn Shelby

"They ruled Birmingham like Tommy, John and Arthur did before them. And they all had the best and worst traits of my brothers. Tommy's brains and looks, John's charms, Arthur's quiet rage that bubbled and burst if you dared to mess with any of the others. They screamed power. They carried Tommy, John and Arthur's legacies"

Ada Shelby on her brother, nephew and cousin

Though there's no one there to guide you No one to take your hand But with faith and understanding You will journey from boy to man

Son of man, look to the sky Lift your spirit, set it free Some day you'll walk tall with pride Son of man, a man, in time you'll be

@queenzee27 @munstysmind

[little-space-babe]

Our Violent Delights : A Peaky Blinders Story

Our Violent Delights : A Peaky Blinders Story

Two families: Gypsy and Moors

One curse: To kill them all

If Thomas Shelby got the missing crate filled with guns, then who got the crate with the motorcycle? Thomas Shelby may have recognizes an opportunity to move up in the world, but he never plan for it to bring some unexpected guests. Let alone family secrets.

[novashelby]

Hello. My name is Nova, and I am way too close to 30. I am always willing to be friends with mutuals. Please feel free to message me. I don't talk to those privately under 18. I am sorry. :( I started writing fanfiction at 15. So...nearly 15 years. Yikes. I also write original work and read a lot. Just your typical ELA degree holder. I'm American, but I hopped continents.

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If you want to make fanart, please do and send it to me. I would love you to the moon and back forever.

Period typical violence, attitudes, and language| Canon typical violence, attitudes, and language|Abuse; mental, emotional, physical, and sexual|Dub-Con, coercion, and Non-Con|Mental illness and categories under that umbrella|BDSM.

Peaky Blinders (Active)

Outer Banks (slight Hiatus, but willing to take requests)

The Bear (coming soon)

Other Characters (Cillian)

Monday and -sometimes-Thursday: The Balls in Our Courts Shopkeeper Girl

Wednesday and -sometimes- Sunday: Evie: The Younger Years His Innocence

*One-shots, The Vendetta Complex, The Girl With the Smile, and I'm Not Your Wife, I'm Your Daughter-updated randomly as of this moment.

[hb-writes]

Little Lady Blinder - Chapter 33

Uncertainties, 1919

Also available here on ff net or here on AO3.

Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content

Clara startled awake to find she wasn’t at home in her own bed. She was sprawled out on John’s living room floor, her nieces and nephews all around her, a bundle of pillows and blankets spread out on the carpet. But it was quiet, the only sound in the house was the soft snoring of the kids…and some rustling up the stairs. 

Clara rubbed her eyes. There was light coming in through the windows, so it was morning, but early enough that the kids were still asleep. She wondered when or how she’d fallen asleep, and for how long. She felt rested for the first time in a long stretch. 

Whatever had happened, Clara certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep the night before. Lizzie and the kids had done a good job in distracting her for the day, but Clara and Tommy had plans so she had wanted to know as soon as they were back so she could get home and prepare. Clara had expected the worst after breakfast the day before, after what Joseph had said, but the day had gone rather smooth—an exhausting, whirlwind of activity, sure, but good day nonetheless. They’d gone to a children’s tea, played games on the way back, had a scavenger hunt and built a fort for the kids to pretend to sleep out in the living room. 

Clara had joined the kids in the fort once completed, but she hadn’t intended to stay over. She had a sleeping out of her own to prepare for, but she’d fallen asleep before the boys arrived home. She assumed it had just been very, very late by the time they all made it back to Small Heath. 

Because if something had gone wrong…well, Clara assumed someone would’ve woken her. That’s what she told herself at least. If John hadn't come home or if he’d been hurt, Lizzie would have woken her straightaway. And if it was someone else…well, John would have woken her. 

Clara was sure of it. 

She turned over in her makeshift bed when footsteps sounded on the top of the stairs, Lizzie’s soft giggle trailing down to her on the living room floor. Beside her, Clara saw Robbie’s eyes open, a sleepy smile on his little face. Clara held a finger to her lips and Robbie nodded, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep, letting out deep, exaggerated breaths. 

Clara waited for John and Lizzie to head out through the back before beckoning her nephew up. Together, the two of them traipsed over the sleeping bodies on their way to the kitchen. Lizzie’s basket was gone from the counter, but a few biscuits had been left behind on a plate in the center of the table. 

“Can we play again today?” Robbie asked, climbing up on a chair to take a biscuit. 

Clara shook her head. “Not today.”

Robbie deflated a bit in front of her. “Why not?”

“I have to go home. Uncle Tommy’s…” Clara considered it…why couldn’t Robbie come? It was meant to be just her and Tommy, but she figured he wouldn’t mind their nephew coming along. Robbie was the youngest, but he was never much trouble. Not compared to the rest of them, and Clara had enjoyed her time with him yesterday.

“I’m supposed to spend the day with Tommy, but maybe we can ask—”

“Mornin’,” John said as he came back through the door, mussing both kids’ hair as he reached out for a biscuit and leaned back against the counter.

“Lizzie said you lot behaved yourselves.” 

Clara considered that. She supposed that overall, the kids had behaved though Joseph had been short with the poor woman throughout the day.

“She especially likes you, mate,” John grinned as he looked at his son. 

“I like Lizzie,” Robbie said.

“Me too, mate.” John popped another biscuit in his mouth. “I’m going to get some more sleep. Don’t wake the others yet, yeah?”

Robbie stood up on the chair, reaching out for John and clasping his arm before he headed through the kitchen doorway. “Can I go with Clara today?”

John glanced at his sister. “You want him with you?”

Clara hesitated just a moment before nodding. “Can we go now?” 

John shrugged. “If you want. Should be late enough now that Aunt Pol won’t drag you two off to church.” 

And they could have a more substantial breakfast back home, Clara figured. A couple of biscuits weren’t fuel enough for an adventure like the one she had planned.

“Alright, mate," John said. "Go get dressed.” 

Robbie scooted off the chair.

“Something warm,” Clara added as he moved toward the door, leaving Clara and John alone. 

John pulled out a chair, sitting down beside her. 

“Thank you,” John said. “Lizzie had no complaints. Said you weren’t a grump, either.” 

John leaned to the side, fishing out his bill fold and setting a few notes on the table. 

“You did good,” he confirmed. 

Clara didn’t think she’d done much, though. It had been Lizzie who navigated all of the issues and tended to Robbie when he’d been upset. It was Lizzie who had done all the planning and the cooking and Clara had felt more that she was just along for the ride than that she had been especially responsible for helping with anything. 

Clara left the bills sitting on the table between them and turned to her. “How was the races?”

“Good,” John said, taking another biscuit.

“They went late,” Clara offered, the words somewhere between a question and a statement. “The races?”

“Nah," John shook his head as he chewed and swallowed the biscuit. "We were celebrating at the Garrison.”

“Arthur and Tommy, too?”

John shook his head again. “Just Arthur and the boys.” 

“Oh,” Clara nodded. 

“You know how Tommy is,” he offered, studying her response. 

Clara did know how Tommy was, but she still didn’t quite know what John meant. She didn't know what it meant that Tommy hadn't joined them in celebrating. She didn't know what it meant that he hadn't come to find her, either, and a bit of uncertainty curled into her stomach.

“You need me for anything else before you go?” 

Clara shook her head, already deep enough in her own thoughts that there was nothing John could do to help her, nothing Clara would allow him to do to help.  

“Alright then," John said as he stood up. "I’m back to bed before this lot wakes up. Go out through the back. Keep it down.” 

--

As Clara and Robbie walked back to the house, the boy talked non-stop about their day with Lizzie, chattering on and on, but Clara was busy packing her bag in her mind, trying to remember everything that they’d need, strategizing on how she’d ask her brother to let Robbie tag along. 

Clara imagined her brother was already awake. It wasn’t very early—already past the hour Charlie had offered to walk with her to the yard, and far past when Tommy usually elected to stay in his bed. 

Either way, they’d have to be quiet, and Robbie had to let her do the talking. Clara told him as much as she fumbled around for the hidden key, unlatching the back door and letting them both into the quiet of the kitchen. Clara directed Robbie to the sitting room out front, settling him on the couch before backtracking through the dining room to draw back the shop’s curtain. 

She pushed aside the very sudden thought that Tommy might be mad at her, that she was supposed to come back home from John’s last night to make sure there’d be no delay with their sleeping out, but the thought quickly vanished as the quiet stillness of the office took over her.

Clara passed her nephew in the parlor again, pressing a finger to her lips as she moved through the room and headed up the stairs. 

Tommy’s door was shut, all the doors in the hall were. It was normal these days for Ada’s to be shut, and Finn was sleeping later and later these days, but not Tommy. 

She knocked lightly on the wood, waiting a few seconds but hearing nothing, not even when she pressed her ear against the wood to listen. 

“He already left.” Clara spun on her heel at the voice, her heart pounding as a hand reached out to catch her before she stumbled. “Just ten minutes ago,” Isiah added as he stood in Clara’s now open doorway. 

Clara had questions—she wanted to know where Tommy went and she wanted to know why Isiah was in her bedroom—but both questions died on her lips when she spotted the cuts and bruising on Isiah’s face. 

Clara pushed her loose hair from her face, her fingertips brushing over the scar on her brow. 

“Just a scratch,” Isiah said, a cheeky grin on his face as he leaned back into the door frame. “Didn’t even need stitches.” 

Clara nodded, unable to pull her gaze properly away from Isiah’s face, her mind subconsciously looking for more evidence of injury. 

“You should see the other guy,” he said, nudging her.

“Is Finn—?”

“He's fine,” Isiah interrupted. “Passed out sleeping though.” 

Clara meant to ask after the others—after Tommy and Arthur, and her cousins and everyone else who’d gone off to Cheltenham yesterday, but Robbie appeared at the top of the stairs before she could voice any of it.

“Did you ask him yet?” Robbie asked, the excitement in his voice falling as Clara started shaking her head. 

“Maybe we’ll just play around the house instead,” Clara ventured. “...See if he comes back soon and then we’ll ask…or maybe we can see if Uncle Charlie’ll still have us...or…”

Clara’s mind was seeking alternatives, spurred on a bit by the frown on her nephew’s face, but her heart wasn’t in it, her problem solving hindered, clouded over, by the hurt and confusion and worry.

They’d made a plan. Tommy had promised no one would get hurt. And he’d promised they’d sleep out. They’d make a day of it. That’s what he’d said. Clara had been certain he would keep his word. Certain that her brother would come through. He'd promised.

“You can spend the day with me and Finn,” Isiah said, still leaning against the door frame as he watched his friend shifting through her thoughts.

The mere suggestion charged Robbie, a smile growing on his face, but Clara was slower to warm, cautious not of Isiah and his words. She knew it was an offer that she could trust, but of the idea of spending the day out with him and her brother unsettled her a bit. It had been a long time since Clara had passed one of her days out with the boys.

The boys tended to stray from home. They tended to cause trouble. Just days ago now Clara had been left dealing with her brother’s trouble and she wasn’t sure she wanted more. 

Clara had been doing her best to stay clear of all that. 

But Isiah was smiling at her, his eyes warm and bright as his eyebrows rose and fell a few times, the gesture taunting her as his smile reminded her what it was to pass a day by his side.

Clara huffed, just a quiet bit of resistance offered before she rolled her eyes, a quiet bit of curiosity stowed in her features. 

“What do you have planned?” she finally asked.

Isiah shrugged. He knew Clara was already hooked despite the hesitation she was putting on. It didn’t much matter what Isiah had to offer her, what his plans were for the day. Some part of Clara knew it would be far better than sitting around here wallowing and trying to entertain the nephew she’d brought along for the ride.

“Yesterday was payday,” Isiah said, reaching into his pocket and producing a sleek handful of money.

Since John had paid Clara, they were both flush with cash. Clara hadn’t even been expecting payment for helping out with the kids, but either way, the money was in her pocket. It was a gift that was certainly more than she had deserved, but John had been in a good mood and he was always generous when he was in a good mood. 

“We could go to the pictures,” Isiah said.

“But I don’t have any money,” Robbie whined. 

“That’s alright, mate,” Isiah answered. “Go wake Finn and I’ll spot you.” 

Robbie grinned, heading down the hallway without another word, and Isiah watched him go, waiting until turned into Finn’s bedroom before looking back to Clara. 

She was looking at her brother’s door, Tommy’s door. 

“He seemed in a hurry,” Isiah offered. “Something important.” 

Clara nodded, pushing her hurt down beneath the excuse Isiah offered on her brother's behalf. She didn't know if he had said the words to make her feel better or to protect her brother. Isiah didn't know wither.

Tommy hadn't left her a note. He clearly hadn't been even remotely concerned about her when he left, but Clara was already trying to move past Isiah to find some paper in her bedroom.

“We should leave them a—”

On the floor below, a key fit into the door that led in off the lane, cutting Clara off. She raced past Isiah, moving down half a flight of stairs before Polly stepped into view, removing her hat as she looked up the steps. 

“You missed a fine service,” Polly said. “Where’s your brother?” 

Clara was prepared to answer fully, giving her aunt an account of each and every Shelby boy. Finn was asleep in his bed. John was home with the kids. Tommy was…out. And Clara assumed Arthur was still down the lane, asleep in his own bed. She was tempted, but that answer sounded like she was being smart, even in her own head. And Clara knew who Polly was really asking after, anyway. 

“Isiah said he went out.” 

Polly nodded, her gaze moving to the boy who stood at the top step. “Something important, I suppose,” she said, though Clara had the distinct feeling that Polly had no idea why Tommy wasn’t home…wasn’t where she expected him to be. 

“And Finn?”

“He’s waking up,” Robbie said, venturing down the stairs and moving past Clara until he was within arms’ reach of Polly. “Isiah said I can go to the pictures with them. He’s gonna spot me.”  

Polly lifted the boy from the stairs, holding him on her hip for a moment. 

“And who said you four were going to the pictures?”

“We were gonna—” Clara started to explain her plan to leave a note. It wasn’t exactly aking permission, but it was something. 

“Tommy was supposed to take me and Clara to sleep out, but he’s not here so we’re going to the pictures instead.” 

Polly hummed, setting Robbie back on the steps as she studied her niece and the way she'd stayed quiet, letting the little boy provide the explanations. 

“Well, you’d best go have something to eat before you go,” Polly said, directing Robbie towards the kitchen. “Best go search the cupboards.”

Polly beckoned Clara down the last few steps. Clara trailed behind her aunt as she walked through the dining room and into the shop, heading straight for the safe. She lingered a few paces away as her aunt leaned down to lean inside. 

“No reason to take any money from that boy,” Polly said as she turned to hand Clara a small amount of money. “Family fund,” she added, as she guided Clara back through the shop.

“Can I have some?” Finn asked as he peeked his head around the curtains, a piece of bread and jam in his mouth. 

“Your sister can carry it,” Polly said as they stepped into the dining room where the boys were all eating. “And I want you four to stick together. You go straight to the theater and stay away from the Cut,” Polly continued. “You watch your nephew. And you listen to Isiah. He’s in charge.” 

Isiah beamed, but only for a minute, the smile on his face slipping away as Polly continued on.

“And if anything happens, you’ll deal with me,” she said, her gaze directed at Isiah. “Keeping out of trouble may be hard, but I’ll promise you Aunt Polly’s boot is harder. And find your father while you're out. Invite him to supper.” 

--

By the time the kids made it to the end of Watery Lane, Polly’s words were akin to a distant memory to the boys, with Finn and Robbie wandering off ahead without a care. Finn had already taken the money from Polly off his sister for safekeeping, and he was spouting off, directing what they’d be doing with their day without stopping to gather the opinions of those around him.

Clara hesitated before the door to number 6 went out of view, stilling on the cobblestone and making Isiah backtrack a few steps to stay with her. 

“What is it?” 

Clara shook her head, taking a few steps forward. 

“Come on now,” Isiah said. He nudged her with a gentle arm. “You really think there’ll be trouble with me by your side?” 

Clara stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. It wasn’t too long ago that the two of them had been bested by the coppers, both of them worse off for the encounter, but things were different now. 

Isiah was taller. Something in his face seemed changed. Older. Confident.

And he was a Peaky Blinder now—well, sort of one. 

“I’ve got ya and you’ve got me, yeah?” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Heard from Finn you’ve been scrappin’ again. Probably don’t even need any of my help in a fight.” 

Clara shrugged again, kicking at a pebble as she started walking. She wasn’t proud of the fight, even if they’d won. And she didn’t see Isiah grinning at her, focused as she was on her dirty boots as they moved through the streets.

“What really happened at the races?” she finally mumbled, sneaking a glance at him and finding her gaze lingering on his new scar again. 

Isiah tapped the pebble Clara had been moving along before looking to her. The question felt like a test, one where there was no right answer. But he’d promised her nothing would change. Isiah had promised her that him being a Blinder wouldn’t change their friendship.

“You can’t tell your brothers I told you,” he said. “If they find you out, you blame it on Finn. Lad can’t keep his mouth shut anyhow.” 

Clara chuckled at that, though she wasn’t sure she’d lie and blame her twin if it came down to it. She didn’t imagine it would come down to it, but even so, it felt malicious, even if it would be saving Isiah’s skin. Clara nodded anyhow. She needed the truth. Needed a bit of certainty.

“I’m not going to tell."

Isiah nodded before offering his tale, telling Clara all about the horses and the spectators, the Lee family and the money. He told her of the small cuts and bruises incurred by the men, himself included. And he told her of the crass words spoken on the way there and the way home. He told her all of it, the words flowing out like a story, like they had needed to be told, needed to be released from his brain. 

Isiah hadn’t seen Tommy the whole time, he’d said. Tommy and Grace had gone off someplace special, and all Isiah knew was that it had been a successful day. That Tommy had been pleased. At least, that's what Arthur had said.

The information didn't satisfy her or soothe her. If anything, what Isiah told her had given her more questions than anything else, but Isiah had seemed lighter for sharing it, as if a weight had been lifted.

It was still too early for the pictures. The first showing wasn't until 11 am and anyway, the kids were still hungry even after having breakfast at home. Starving, and they had money to burn, money to spend on who lever they wanted. They could've gone to Hinkley's, but they bypassed their local bakery, heading through the streets to find something else that was open, eventually settling on a small shop none of them had ever been to, the four of them enticed by the big cakes in the window.

Clara felt a tingle in her limbs as they settled by the Cut with their bag of treats, the pastries taking on some semblance of a second breakfast as the morning sun warmed their bones.

They worked on the contents of the bag with a certain fervor before Isiah and Robbie left the twins with the leftovers to skip rocks. Clara remained with her brother, the two of them settled with their feet dangled over the edge of the canal while Isiah tried to teach her nephew what to do, the two of them practicing swinging their arm.

"What happened at the races yesterday?" Clara asked, trying again to get some type of information.

"I'm not supposed to say," Finn said around a bite of pastry. "Why are you so worried about it?"

"I'm not worried."

"You're always worried," Finn answered, the words touching on something deep within her. Didn't everyone think about things all the time? She asked the question to herself, watching her brother as he munched on his food, his gaze on Robbie and Isiah. Clara realized then that Finn didn't seem worried. He didn't ever seemed very bothered about anything, which didn't seem a bit fair to Clara, that her brother's mind could be so quiet. So calm. So kind to him in that way, when hers was certainly not.

In fact, it seemed that Finn had already moved on from her questions altogether, a stretch of quiet passing between them that left Clara feeling uncomfortably alone with her thoughts.

"Tommy let me drive the car yesterday," she offered into the quiet, the information coming out only to get Finn talking again. "Maybe he'll take you out today."

Finn shook his head. "Tommy's busy with the pretty little barmaid.'"

Clara recognized the turn of phrase as belonging to one of her brothers—Arthur or John—but she stowed the information anyhow, ignoring the sting she felt at knowing Tommy had skipped out on their plans to be with Grace.

By the time Clara looked up again, Finn was standing beside Robbie, trying to give his own two cents about rock skipping, showing off his technique, which was all well and good until Robbie tried to replicate it, whipping a rock across the canal. The sound of shattering glass came quickly, echoing across the water.

Clara sat in stunned silence, looking around the small area they were in, her eyes catching on a bit of movement down the lane, her ears catching on a small sound. The sound grew louder and louder, the sound of footsteps on pavement building until she saw the face of a man she recognized. 

Moss.

The copper who had towed her across town, brought her to Inspector Campbell. The call to bring up the breakfast of sweets she'd just enjoyed came over Clara all at once as the man started moving towards them. She barely heard Isiah yell for them to run, was barely aware of Isiah taking Robbie’s hand and peeling away from the canal as she sat frozen there. Clara just sat there as if she was rooted to the ground, too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But then Finn was in front of her, holding out a hand. 

“C’mon, Clara, run,” Finn said, urging her up. “Leave it,” he said when she reached for the half-empty bag of sweets and he yanked her to her feet, the two of them sprinting off. Clara was barely aware of where they were going, the two of them weaving in and out of streets Clara hadn't ventured down in months. They’d lost Isiah and Robbie, and Clara didn’t dare slow or turn her head to see if the copper still followed them, not until they pulled to a stop outside of the theater.

Clara was grateful it was Finn who had their money as he bought their tickets and tugged her along into the building. She was still breathing hard, her heart beating in her chest as they slumped into the velvet seats. 

“What if something happened? What if—?” The words caught in Clara’s throat as the doors at the back of the theater opened and closed. She willed her heart to settle as two young women took up seats a few rows behind them. They paid her and Finn no mind.

The last time Clara had been in this theater, it was Tommy who had burst through the doors, demanding Ada tell him who had gotten her pregnant. Clara had been scared of her brother then. She thought he might kill one or both of them, but an angry Tommy was more preferable to her now than the thought of that copper coming through the door. 

Clara pushed herself down into the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her queasy stomach. Oh, how she regretted cookies and pastries for breakfast. Oh, how she regretted leaving Watery Lane in the first place...

Clara kept her eyes squeezed shut as the doors continued to open and close behind them. Despite Finn's teasing, despite his insistence that there was nothing to worry about, Clara flinched each time, holding her breath until steps faded away as the patrons found their seats. 

Clara finally heard a sound she recognized minutes later, a deep bit of laughter that seeped into her bones, and she loosed a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She turned to look over the back of her seat as Isiah and Robbie walked down the aisle. The little boy was laughing, a huge bag of popcorn in his arms as he zoomed away from Isiah, taking up the empty aisle seat beside Finn. 

Clara wanted to hug her nephew. To check him over and make sure he was alright, but it seemed like he had already forgotten their run-in with the copper. 

“Guess who we saw!” Robbie said, leaning across Finn to better see Clara, his answer coming before Clara could even think to respond. “Miss Lizzie! She was walking down the street.”

“Nice lady, Miss Stark,” Isiah added as he climbed over the seat from the row behind them. He slid into the seat beside Clara, settling a large bag of popcorn in her lap. 

“She told us to hide in an alleyway and then she told that copper we went the other way,” Robbie said, leaning across Finn to reach his hand into the popcorn.

Isiah hummed and took a handful of popcorn into his mouth as well before looking at Robbie. “Remember what I said though, mate?”

Robbie nodded. “Can’t tell no one about what happened," he said. 

“Good lad,” Isiah said as he sat back in the seat, leaning his arm over the back of Clara's chair. "I just hope Miss Stark keeps it to herself, too.”

“She will. I'm certain of it,” Clara let her head lean back into Isiah's arm as she grabbed a handful of popcorn for herself. Isiah glanced at her as if she might say more, but Clara didn’t offer any further explanation. Clara wasn’t sure how she’d be able to explain that she just knew, without a smidgen of uncertainty, that Lizzie Stark was a good person. An honest person.

And then the movie started, words coming across the screen that had a smile growing on her face: A Dog's Life, Written and Produced by: Charles Chaplin.

Her mind was still swimming with thoughts as the picture began. Thoughts of the broken window and the copper and her brothers and Grace and Lizzie Stark and the fact that they'd forgotten to find Jeremiah and invite him to dinner, but as the image of a small puppy emerged on the screen, Clara found a smile tugging at her lips, and she willed herself to give into it. She willed herself to let the uncertainties fall away, some part of her realizing that the world...the worries...they could wait until the movie was through.

Chapter 34

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

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