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traumadumpwriter · 4 months

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Heavy trigger warning: Blood, violence, gore. Mentions of self harm, sexual assault and rape.

Check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!

Sorry for the slow updates. I'm much more regular on my Wattpad and already have a lot more chapters uploaded there. The @ is slowlychanging.

Don't forget to like and comment if you're enjoying! It really does mean a lot. Stay safe xx

Freedom: A John Shelby fanfiction

Chapter Eleven: 2900 words

Knuckles white as he gripped the wheel, John raced to the shop without even thinking to pick up Ada - only able to focus on the rage. Red hot, blistering rage, fuelled by the haunting image of Alice's crumpled body. It taunted him like a ghostly apparition whilst the smokey, serpentine roads felt like they stretched on forever.

By time he got out of the car, slamming on the breaks in the middle of the street, his anger had reached new heights. Luckily, it wasn't particularly busy at the shop; just the usual workers sat around, and so there was no halt when John stormed into Tommy's office, immediately met by alert blue eyes.

"You're a fucking prick, you know that?" John's voice was instantly raised as he paced to his older brother, who didn't as much as flinch upon recognising the intruder. Tommy had already received a bollocking from Pol that morning and wasn't at all surprised to see John's furrowed brows and closed fists. Still though, he couldn't help but be annoyed by the disturbance - he was busy dealing with the other results of last night after all - so his mouth remained straight and his gaze unsympathetic.

"She's in hospital right now because of you! Do you even care?" John slammed a hand down onto the desk with a shout, desperate for even a crack in his brothers face. "Huh Tommy? Do you even give a fuck?"

"Yes John, I give a fuck. And that's why everything worked out, didn't it?" The patriarch responded flatly before lighting a cigarette.

"No it didn't all fucking work out! Did you not fucking hear me? What about her being hurt is bloody alright to you? Alice could've died last night." John growled in response, almost spitting in his fury.

This newfound opposition from one of his most loyal soldiers was starting to get under Tommy's skin.

"Well she can't be doing that bad if you're fucking here, can she John? Huh?" His eyes started to widen with irritated energy and his voice got gradually louder. "Because she ain't even your wife and you've gone soft for her! Where's your balls John, she fucking agreed to it and if there's an issue she can come speak to me. Are you a fucking carrier pigeon now?"

John gritted his teeth.

"No, I'm not fucking not. I'll tell you what you are though. You're a fucking cunt. An egotistical fucking cunt. And-"

"Well at least I've not gone soft for a nut job, John. Because that's what she is, a fucking nut job! And you plan on marrying her! You're even thicker than I thought-"

That was it. John leapt across the desk and punched Tommy's face, quickly earning an equal punch back as they started to brawl. The noise instantly caught the attention of everyone in the shop and Pol soon burst in with a drunken Arthur - only just awoken and still stumbling.

Her shouts were being ignored as the brothers hissed at each other in between their attacks, knocking over furniture and sending each other flying.

"You're just fucking bitter that your woman ain't ever coming back, but mine did. You're still fucked off over some clapped cavalry cunt!" John declared before shoving Tommy backwards with a scoff. He went to punch him again but his brother had suddenly floored him.

"Cus' she's such a woman ain't she John? Still acting like a bloody animal whenever there's any opportunity to do so!" Tommy had a grip on John's leg, dragging him with gritted teeth until he was also pulled to the ground.

John used this opportunity to jump up and start kicking his brother, although he quickly clambered up too and threw a heavy punch to his face. Blood spat from John's mouth before he threw a heavier punch back.

"You've got no one." He growled before gripping Tommy's shoulders and slamming him against the bookshelf, classics falling down with the intense shake. John's fingers moved to squeeze Tommy's throat.

"Well last time I checked this so called woman ain't even yours, she's still Mrs Buckley." The elder mocked with wide eyes and a venomously sharp tone. He knew his brother wouldn't kill him.

Although if John was seeing red before, it was now a faded shade in comparison to the colour he saw then. The words made him feel sick. Mrs Buckley. It gave his whole body an intense wave of revulsion as he threw his brother down to the ground and then kneeled over him, quickly starting to pummel his face as Tommy landed punches to his gut.

"Don't you ever fucking say that!" A guttural shout much louder than the others erupted from his mouth followed by a flurry of hits that halted Tommy's arms entirely and finally drew over Arthur.

John didn't stop hitting until he was suddenly grabbed by the eldest, which was a mistake on his part because he swiftly received a punch to the face that also sent him to the ground whilst Tommy was clambering up.

Just as John was about to go for his brother again, Pol's voice finally broke through the violent haze and he turned to her for the first time since she entered, paying attention.

"Alright John, you've floored them both. That's enough." Despite the demanding tone, it was a familiarity he found comfort in and the red began to fade. Unbeknownst to him, she shot Tommy a sharp glare just as he was about to open his mouth and make another taunt.

"What's she in bloody hospital for? I thought you said she was alright last night?" Her words grounded him back into the current reality and his breathing started to even out; followed by a glance down at his fists which he realised were splattered with blood.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, looking around the room and seeing Arthur still on the floor. He made a step towards him, an instinctual desire to help his brother but quickly stopped himself as soon as he remembered Pol's question.

"Her ribs.. and the cuts." He answered numbly, staring back down at his hands. "I should get Ada-"

"Leave Ada out of it and go back there yourself. God knows she's got enough on her plate without your bloody mess." Tommy finally spoke, earning a side eye from John who's tone immediately soured again.

"You sold Alice out to get fucking ravaged by those sadistic pricks!" His shout brought a heavy silence to the room, even Arthur's groans stopping. "And you told her she'd be fine."

Everyone in the room felt a guilty pang in their guts at those words, John's pain so palpable it was no longer something even a brother could mock. Tommy didn't know what to say in response, there was no justification that wouldn't just further anger John. And so he pursed his lips and said nothing, resuming his previous cold face.

It wouldn't have to last much longer anyway as John was heading towards the door, spitting on the ground before scoffing "You're lucky, you'd be fucking dead if I'd found her a minute later" and promptly exiting, his miserable pace out considerably slower than his determined march in.

Everyone waited to hear the front door slam before moving, Pol marching across the room and landing a firm slap on Tommy's bloody cheek as Arthur hoisted himself up with a grunt.

"You happy with yourself?" She tutted and then turned to Arthur "Both of you need to sort your bloody acts out."

~~~~~

Knowing the Shelby's reputation very well, the nurses attempted to give Alice the best care they could. It was just a few stitches and some ribs that needed to be set - the care didn't need to be amazing. But her vacant expression, hollow voice and visibly self inflicted scars made them mostly quite uncomfortable, leaving just one nurse in charge.

"If she were a woman off the streets she would surely be moved to facility more suited to her needs; a nuthouse of sorts. But because she's with that awful gang, that's not allowed. She's my responsibility instead." The nurse thought bitterly.

She stayed sat a few feet away from the bed, keeping her watch on the tangled hair and tired eyes; doing anything to avoid her tattered arms. The nurse didn't know why it made her so uncomfortable but it did. There was something so unnatural about it, so unnerving. And so instead of continuing her awkward attempt at conversation with the sunken down woman, she handed her a small bottle, the glass thick and brown.

Alice shot a confused look to the nurse, knowing the contents of said bottle were quite unnecessary for her current predicament.

"I don't need this." She spoke lowly, earning a hidden eye roll from the nurse before she replied "It's for the pain."

"Yeah I know, I'm not hurting too bad-"

"I meant up here." The nurse pointed to her own head. "Shuts my thoughts right up."

Despite the passive aggressive nature of the nurse's offer, something that Alice would usually call out, she was too tired to voice a response. And she actually quite liked the idea of her thoughts shutting up. Morphine wasn't too dissimilar to the opium that Jones had fed her - something to make her stop fighting back - and although that specific idea made her feel sick, the sweet numbness seemed heavenly.

The syrup was soon dripping down her throat before the bottle made its way into her pocket, something the nurse couldn't even be bothered to argue with. "She clearly needs it." She mentally justified to herself.

It didn't take long after that for the effects to kick in, Alice's body melting into the bed and her brain going numb. There was no longer such an intense shooting pain whenever she moved and the previously shouting voices in her head mellowed out into calm whispers. A sigh of relief left the nurse's lips upon seeing a slight smile finally form upon Alice's, even if it was twitching and tiny.

The mental quiet was so relaxing, a desperately needed reprieve that Alice bathed in for a while. The opium has never been that relaxing, accompanied by the abuse, but by itself Alice could really see the appeal. She lay, blissed out for some time, until the sound of heavy footsteps pacing through the tiled corridor caught her ears.

She opened her eyes and John appeared in the doorway a second later, his body immediately un-tensing slightly upon seeing Alice awake and seemingly okay. The nurse promptly excused herself, completely ignored by him.

Now that they were alone with so many things to discuss, his pace slowed and the lump in his throat started to build again. Every step closer to the bed his brain became more desperate for something to say. Scrambling but unable to choose. There were a ridiculous number of topics to pick from and yet none of them seemed right.

Hurting his brother hadn't made him feel any better, in fact it made him feel worse; even angrier at Tommy than before - and he definitely didn't want to talk about that, let alone let slip the cruel words said about her. There was also the conversation of what to do next - get married soon or don't - and that didn't seem appropriate given the current mood nor did John even want to risk hearing rejection in his current mind state. And then there was the uncomfortable "How are you?" when the answer was glaringly obvious - that would just be stupid to ask.

It was too late now, he awkwardly stood at the end of the bed and still couldn't think of what to say. All air left his lungs and a heavy silence filled the room. What could he do now?

"It's okay. Come here." Alice's soft voice thankfully broke the silence, sounding like an angel choir to John.

Despite her hazey head, not only were his physical injuries visible but so were his emotional. Eyes a dizzying array of sadness, guilt and anger. Brows tightly furrowed. Lips pulled harsh into a falsely apathetic line. A moment passed before he let it up, finally releasing a heavy sigh and pulling a chair to sit beside her.

She held out her hand and he immediately gripped it, holding his head to her cold fingers for a few seconds before looking up again, her face always managing to make him feel extraordinary - bruised or not.

"You alright?" She gently cooed again, moving that hand to stroke his face which was now just as marked as hers.

Her touch made him feel even more strange, a trail of sparks left behind on his body by her beautiful, soft skin.

"How does she do this to me?" He thought as her hand started to feel like a cradle, almost comforting enough to lull him to sleep. Almost. His gut still felt knotted and a lump still danced in his throat.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk." Alice remained soft and calm, her light mood being aided significantly by the morphine. Only an hour beforehand she was certain that she'd ruined everything; her thoughts festering and screaming that John would never want her again, she'd be disowned by the Shelby's, everything had been ruined by her inability to say no to danger. Now those worries no longer bothered her. Instead she was just content with John's presence, comforting him instead of needing it herself.

"For once." A nagging thought attempted to pull her from the comfortable numbness but it was quickly squashed as he finally spoke, his mouth open for a second before he managed to get the words out.

"I want to talk." He stammered, swallowing again before continuing in a tone closer to his usual confidence.

"I want to talk, I just don't know where to start... I'm so bloody angry at you for even putting yourself in danger. You're a magnet for it and the worst fucking part is that you like it. You like the blood. You're sick, Alice." He took a sharp inhale, Alice's hands slowly falling from his face as each painfully honest word landed; the cloud she was on suddenly sinking.

"But I fucking love you." Now his voice quietened and his hand quickly made its way to her still face, rubbing her cheek softly as she had to him. "You're the dream that kept me going somedays in the trenches. And now I've got you, it feels like everything in the world is trying to take you away from me. Yourself included."

His words were slowly sinking in; heavy and hot like tar. It took Alice some time to think of an adequate response, her heart feeling simultaneously overjoyed and broken by the admittance, and just as she was about to mumble a slew of apologies, John spoke again, eyes boring into hers.

"They've given you something, haven't they? I should've waited to talk about this." A humourless chuckle left his lips, not even giving Alice time to respond before pulling his hand away and standing up, the chair legs making an ugly scraping noise that sounded ten times louder than usual combined with the sudden withdrawal of his touch. "I'll go find a nurse and sign you out-"

"W-wait!" She blurted out, anxiety now managing to creep it's way back up her spine. John's stare did nothing to alleviate that anxiety, but she knew she had to push through the fog and say the right thing - something intelligible at least.

"Can we continue.. from yesterday, yesterday morning I mean.. I'll make us breakfast, we can dance and everything will be good... I love you."

The heavy weight anchoring his lips down finally seemed to have been lifted, a smile that met his eyes lighting up his pale face. There was nothing he wanted more than to continue from yesterday morning and act as if none of this had happened.

"You're on bedrest, Alice. I'll make breakfast." He said with a playful scoff.

And just like that, the comfortable adoration had returned at least partially. Rocks removed from stomachs and lumps from throats, Alice sunk back down into the bed with a relieved sigh as her body relaxed again whilst John headed to find a nurse.

Looks of judgement were passed between patients and staff when he speedily wheeled her down the hall, the pair giggling loudly and the occasional gasp escaping Alice's lips at the every sharp turn. The dried blood and dark bruises heavily juxtaposed by their visible joy; as per leaving the nurses with more questions than answers when it came to the Shelby's.

Less than an hour later, the pair were laid back in John's bed and instead of laughter the room was silent. Contently silent. Their fingers were intertwined and their eyes glued to each others faces, taking in each minute detail with deep satisfaction.

The undivided attention was an intense aphrodisiac for the both of them, an unspoken wish that this moment could last forever. It was like a spell neither could explain, no words even needing to be spoke. After a while, John started to drift into sleep but not before Alice mumbled a quiet "I love you" and promptly dropped into a deep sleep moments after.

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rp-partnerfinder · 7 months

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Hello! I have not posted a search for the LONGEST time but I have had an itching to add some new roleplays as of late. I am a 25 year old female from the UK and I am looking to write with people who are 21+ though 18+ is okay.

I can write anything from semi-literate (2-3 paragraphs) to novella (10+ paragraphs) but I am always a quality>quantity type of girl! I love making friends OOC and I try to be as communicative about my schedule as possible and similarly, I am super patient - the worst you'll get is an activity check after 6-8 weeks from me.

I write via Discord as I prefer the server option but I may be swayed to stay on Tumblr. I can write as both male and female and enjoy doubling especially in canon/OC pairings. I would prefer my side to be mxf however I am happy to write anything for your side!

I am open to NSFW however I do not want it to be the entire plot - I do enjoy story too. We can discuss our limits and I will respect yours (as I hope you will respect mine).

Bolded is my preferred role.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Draco Malfoy x my OC Canon x your OC

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

I have seen everything except the final season - no spoilers please!

Michael Grey x my OC Canon x your OC

𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭

This is a very niche fandom but if anybody is willing to do this, I am more than happy to look into a fandom of your choosing if you'd like for a double up even if I haven't seen it before!

Erich Blunt x my OC Canon x your OC

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

I have only seen this intermittently for the first three seasons so it would have to be massively AU based or I would require a lot of patience.

Dr. Julian Albert x my OC Canon x your OC

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭

Another semi-popular fandom, I think, but I have seen the entire series (to date) and recently begun to play the mobile game which revived my interest for the series as a whole.

Denver x my OC Canon x your OC

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

I am open to some fandomless ideas depending however my main focus right now is fandom plots. If you are not familiar with any of these fandoms but would still like to write with me, please do not let this put you off!

If you are interested, please give this a like or message me directly and we can figure something out 💗

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violentlyviolettripledecker · 10 days

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Water and Earth sequel

Because I got so wonderfully sidetracked on Monkey Puzzle Tree the sequel to Water and Earth is still well in the early stages. That being said, it is an OC fic, which brings its own difficulties.

The first is that I don't want to just rewrite Peaky Blinders from a new POV. I don't think that's fun. Water and Earth was easier to write in that regard because it was pre-canon and I could write a plot that felt fresh and still be canon-compliant. The sequel will be in canon.

Without spoiling, there are a few things I want to do and they are all very gay and smutty. But I like my porn with a side of plot, and since I've made this canon-compliant, and since this second work will be in canon times, I'll obviously be rehashing canon plot points.

I guess this is part warning and part disclaimer. I don't think I'm a better writer than Steven Knight so much as I think I am a much gayer writer than Steven Knight and fanfiction is the only place I can turn to that even starts being Gay Enough. The sequel is also a bit of a fix-it because I am a proud Lizzie Stark apologist and she deserved better.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby smut #lizzie stark #water and earth #steven knight you could have at least let tommy shelby be canonically bisexual #every time i use the word canonical i think of tina belcher #non canonical! non canonical!#anyone else?#just me?#that tracks

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wonderlanddreamer · 1 month

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1,8,,10,18,20

Flo and John 🥰

1. Who makes the other blush all the time and who finds it adorable? John is constantly looking for ways to make Florence blush. He teases the fuck out of her when she does, but he can't deny that he finds it adorable.

8. Who gets jealous easier? Flo 100% gets jealous easier, but John enjoys using her jealousy as an excuse to snake an arm around her waist, pull her flush against his back and show her that she has zero reason to be, because the only girl he has eyes for is her.

10. Who brings up the subject of kids first? John brings up the subject of kids first, to tell Florence about his own. However, it's Florence who brings up the subject of them having kids.

18. Which one wears the "I'm with stupid" t-shirt? 100% Flo.

20. Who infodumps and who listens with heart eyes? John absolutely adores how articulate Florence is. He could sit and listen to her for hours.

Read Flo & John's story here.

#self ship ask game #oc x canon #ask game #peaky blinders #peaky blinders oc #john shelby x oc #john shelby x florence fletcher #behind enemy lines #florence fletcher #my oc #my oc stuff #john shelby

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dhampiravidi · 4 months

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murphyverse RP ad for canon x OC 1x1

23F looking for the following canons:

Patricia Kitten Braden (Breakfast on Pluto)

Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

Tom Buckley (Red Lights)

Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow (Nolanverse's Batman)

I have a Discord & Tumblr posts for RPing.

Please be at least 18 years old.

Yes to eventual smut.

Like if interested. If your asks are turned off, I'll IM you.

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aliypop · 2 years

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Love Is The Drug

Word Count: 2,418

Writers Notes: So here’s another Peaky Fic, however I thought wouldn’t it be interesting if we looked into war Tommy... and Eleanor meeting in France in 1915... also yes the title is based off the song Love Is The Drug

Warning: Show violence and language Suggestive themes, Smut

Pairing: OC x Canon

Plot: What happens when Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby meets his match one night in the Cabaret club La perle de Vénus,

Taglist: @shelbydelrey

1915

Tucked away near the red light district was La perle de Vénus. It was a hot ticket in Paris since it first opened with its beautiful women and drinks overflowing. It was no wonder that so many soldiers spent their days there in between battles, the inside though small had glamorous touches surrounding it, red velvet stage curtains, red satin table clothes, and even the women were draped in red taffeta, "Dépêche-toi!" Bernadette shouted. She was the house mother to the dancers and the mother to their leading lady,

"Antionette Royale il vous reste 10 minutes!" taking a good bang against the door,

"I'd like it if you'd just call me Eleanor..." she grumbled, powdering her face and adding a fake mole to the corner of her top lip, "Virginia, mind lacing me up?" Virginia had been staring off at a few of the dancers, one named Mrytle, tying up her sister's dress. She hadn't noticed that she'd tied it, "TOO TIGHT!" Eleanor gasped,

"I'll do it myself..."

"And I'll do her myself..."

"Mère pouvons-nous parler?"

"Talk Andre..."

"I was thinking that perhaps when we head back to London..." his mother shooting him a cold icy glare, "If... we head back to London, that you should let me lead The Black Pearl Company and-" his eyes fell on two soldiers who were sitting at the bar, both with the bluest eyes and darkest hair he'd ever seen,

"Speak, boy, finish your thoughts..." catching where his gaze fell, "Andre,"

"Yes..."

"Why don't you help your father with drinks, no?" pushing him towards the bar, " Louis not only took care of the drinks but. He was the owner. With the success of his many vaudeville acts, it was no wonder how a family like his could afford such a place like this,

"What can I get you two gentlemen?"

"Absinthe," the one soldier said, "And the fucking Sergeant Major 'ere ill have an Old Fashion," Andre rolled his eyes. If it were one thing he hated, it was the Soldiers who thought they ran shit or thought they were the shit,

"Here for the show, gentlemen?" Andre had asked, leaning up against the counter,

"Heard it would be a good one. A few friends told me Antoinette Royale's performin tonight, eh." drinking his Old Fashion, "Never seen her, but they tell me she's beautiful," he laughed as the other soldiers chimed in, "Beautiful she's a fuckin Goddess!"

"Bit bitchy if you ask me," Andre chuckled

"Andre!" Louis hit his son as he rolled his eyes,

"Can't tell her shit from roses," he grumbled. Hearing the music start, the girls were all in line as the curtain rose up. They'd start with the infamous can-can men shouting and throwing money at the slit bloomers under their gowns. They always were the crowd warmers before the main act,

"Lighten up, Tom,"

"Well, if you're waitin for me to care, then I hoped you ordered somethin to eat 'cause it'll be a long time," Thomas grumbled. It wasn't that he was a tight ass, but he was turning into one the more he'd been on the battlefield. With the way, he'd left Small Heath in shambles of love-filled deaths. He just wanted to start anew, fight the good fight, and be known as a hero, but here he was in a room full of women who would be fun to ogle and ah at and maybe take two of them to bed if he still had his so-called charm, " You're on..." Claudette smiled, pushing her onto the stage,

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed..." ruffling the seven-year-old hair up, stepping on the stage, she looked across the audience, a room packed with Soldiers and a pair of pretty blues looking right at her, dressed in the inspiration of Marie Antoinette Eleanor had begun to sing alongside the piano,

"See full of herself..."

"Quite full of 'erself." Arthur smirked, "Right, Tom?" Tommy's gaze was stuck on the brown skin woman and how she looked beautiful in that gown, but she'd look beautiful with it on the floor as well.

As she kept singing, two women had untied her gown, revealing nothing but a pearl-encrusted corset. Every man who wasn't Louis and Andre had their eyes fixed on her, even Arthur, but not Tommy. He wasn't impressed by her. Although she had a beautiful voice, he wanted to read her and understand what made her tick, how to make her breath hitch, and her skin crawl. Smoking his cigarette, Tommy leaned back, ordering another old fashion,

Stepping off the stage, Eleanor walked through the crowds of men, sitting in some of their laps, singing to others, and kissing some on the cheek. Meanwhile, Tommy was livid, for how dare anyone kiss and touch the woman he wanted that didn't even know he wanted her. Walking towards the bar, she could see the glares from her brother, which only made her laugh. In front of her were two British soldiers.

It was always a treat to see a piece of home in the audience. Although Eleanor was singing to Arthur, her eyes were stuck on Tommy, the man who seemed to hide his heart and soul behind a brick wall. She knew his kind too well, hiding under a mask, saying he was fine, but the ear in his head was starting,

"Viens ici souvent?"

" Première fois," his french was good, and with his accent, she couldn't say it wasn't driving her crazy,

" Ton ami?" she asked, gesturing to Arthur, "Mon frère," taking another drag of his cigarette, Eleanor looked at the stage as Jessy gave her a wink, a signal of sorts, sitting in his lap Eleanor pressed against him as she sang in his ear if the lights hadn't been dimmed. She just might have caught the young man blushing a bit. Pressing her forehead against his own, she moved at stray hair and kissed the corner of his mouth. The spark between them was more than just a flame, it was a fire, and he wanted more of it, and so did she,

" Retrouvez-moi à l'étage, you're going to need this..." Eleanor said, his cigarette in her mouth and his watch in her hand. A seductress and a thief seemed Tommy had a type,

"What'd she say, Tom?" Arthur turned. He was a bit drunk at the moment, "Just know I'll be back later,"

The room of Antoinette Royale was a wonderous cavern with red and gold curtains and chandeliers, a room fit for a princess, and in Eleanors' families eyes, she was just that, a princess part of a crime family who did all of Andre's dirty work that he was a coward to do,

"Seems you have something I want?" Tommy said, leaning against the door frame,

"Is that so?" she asked, taking off her powdered wig and unraveling her long, dark curls. She could sense Tommy was staring at her. After all, she was in lingerie, and he had every right to enjoy the tease in front of him,

"The pocket watch?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart." bending over, fixing her stockings,

"You don't, Ms. Royale?"

"Please call me Eleanore. Everyone else calls me Royale or The Pearl," there was a sadness in her eyes that, for a glimpse, Tommy found comfort in.

"Where did you put it?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," stepping closer towards her, Tommy could feel a sense of anger and lust washing over him, she was a trickster, but he'd play her game,

"Wanna bet, sweetheart,"

"I deal with bets, honeybee," standing to his slightly taller level, "I'd rather flip a coin instead," pulling out his coin, he was already prepared,

"Tails, you give me back my watch,"

"Heads, I keep the watch,"

"Deal." as the coin flipped in the sky, the two waited for it to land. And as it did, it was on tails, his hand reaching out for her to hand it over,

"Sike," she smirked,

"Why you..." pinning her up against the wall and kissing him, Eleanor tried to distract him. Besides, he was cute, and his eyes said to kiss him, so she did. At first, it was a bit tame, nothing too intense, until he pulled away and said, "You look good beneath me..." pulling at his tie, she brought him closer to her again, the sweet taste of alcohol and the bitter taste of tobacco now on her tongue, there was something about this man that made her want him, Tommy's hands had begun to wander to the back of her corset untying it, he felt her pull away, "Don't start something you can't finish..."

"What makes you think I can't finish somethin love." picking her up, he carried her towards the bed, his lips sucking the skin on her neck.

"Most men who pursue me never win,"

"Why's that,"

"They hear that I'm dangerous and... oh, a little lower honeybee," her head resting on her shoulder, giving him better access to her neck,

"Honeybee, eh, you give all your client's nicknames?" he asked as he kissed her ear, envy taking over as he thought of the idea of anyone who got to grace her Tawny sunset like skin, "Oh sweetheart, I may have a room, and I may service a select few gentlemen, but I do it because I like it," she bit her lip feeling his hands against her skin,

"So you're saying..."

"I'm not a prostitute, just a young woman looking for," another moan left her lips, "Looking for what?" he asked, looking into her hazel eyes as she stared into the blue hue, intoxicated by the beauty of the man in front of him, "Love." he could hear her heartbreaking,

But he could see the shattering parts in her eyes, and maybe she could see the pieces of what was left of his too. "Loves a hell of a drug, darlin..." he was now towering over her, her hands unbuttoning his uniform. "But you crave it too... don't you?" taking her hand as he kissed it. His answer was yes, but he was scared to admit it. After all, everyone he loved died, and he wouldn't stand for that pain again. He just couldn't,

"Love is for the weakminded," kissing up her arm as she giggled, His heart beating at the sound,

"What if I were to say I like you..."

"You don't even know me name."

"Yet you know mine. Not my fault you lacked the manners to say yours, " straddling Tommy as she was now on top, "You've made a point," he kissed her again, feeling her grind against his bulge,

"So what's your name Solider..."

"Thomas Shelby, friends and me brothers call me Tom,"

"You have friends," Eleanor teased, kissing down his chest, "Surprised much,"

"A little, you seem so..."

"So what?"

"Tense, always on edge to fight, never a moment to relax." she was right, and she knew it. By the smile on her face,

"How would you know,"

"I got my own wars to fight, too."

"As long as we're in here, no more talks about wars got it,"

"Got it," she winked,

Andre groaned, sitting at the bar cleaning. The last calls were done, the men who couldn't take no were kicked out, and Louis took Claudette home to be tucked in, "So about earlier..." Bernadette sighed, looking up at her son, "Look, mon cher, I know you want to lead, but..."

"But what..."

"You don't show it," she bluntly said, cigarette in hand. Her expression was a harsh one,

"What do you mean..."

"You talk about the girls. You barely are keeping up with your father's books and-"

"Who's doing better than me, huh!" banging his fist on the table,

"Eleanor fuck..." Tommy growled, holding onto the sheets, she was in pure bliss, from the way his hips met every thrust and how he was so tender and gentle yet rough when she wanted it, she wasn't letting this one go. She just couldn't. "Don't stop!" she nearly screamed, her legs beginning to shake. Tommy's hips sputtered as he pulled every moan that he could out of her. If he could, he'd burn this moment into his memory until the day he'd die, "I know you've got one more in ya, love," he cooed as she nodded, the feelings of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach unraveled, and she was now seeing the gates of heaven. "Tommy fuck me," was all she could mutter amongst other curses as she hit the peak of her climax.

Tommy followed suit, and the two started to come down from their highs, Eleanor reaching out towards him, "Leaving so soon?" she asked, the ache in her eyes returned,

"Didn't think you'd want me to stay..."

"You gave me the best I've ever had, and you think I want you to leave," she laughed, "You're really dense..." she took a deep breath. As Tommy sat back on the bed, he noticed something on her dresser,

"We're not going to make this habit are we?"

"Well, you'd have to court me first," Eleanor scoffed. Tommy held her hand, kissing the back of it, his eyes looking into hers,

"How about after the war," he said as he finished getting dressed,

"Fine..." she sighed,

1919

"Are you ready to go yet?" Andre asked, watching her straighten out her orange ankle-length dress. "Just waiting on Claudette." Eleanor sighed, fiddling with the pocket watch in her hand,

"I look stupid... Why can't I dress like Virginia..."Claudette frowned, brown eyes glassy like a baby, "Or like a Shelb-" she covered her mouth as Andre looked at her,

"Like a what..."

"We're going to be late," Eleanor said, placing her pistol in her garter and the watch in her purse. It had been a while since they'd been back in England, yet Eleanor had one man on her mind. Walking up the stairs was Tommy Eleanor was sure of it. From how he walked by and those blue eyes, she could never forget, "Tom!" she shouted. Tommy turned to see the voice that called out his name. Low and behold, "Elle..." he looked at her, a lovesick grin on his face,

"You forgot something back in 1915..." running towards him, placing the watch in his hand,

"Seems I still owe you a date,"

"Will the derby do?"

"I don't see why not."

#peaky blinders #peakyoc #au #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby #oc x canon #new #peaky blinders fanfic #drabble #1910s #poc writer #poc oc #eleanor williams #new fanfic

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call-sign-shark · 8 months

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: When starting the vendetta with the Peaky Blinders, Luca Changretta didn't expect you, Arthur's wife, to be the one meeting him. Now that you're facing him, he's determined to make you understand who leads the dance. It's a man's world after all! || Featuring Luca Changretta x Reader

Words: 6.7k

TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, drug use, slight allusions to sex, canonical misogyny, quick allusions to domestic abuse, witchcraft (canonical since PB flirts with it sometimes), fluff, Arthur is as fucked up as cute, depictions of slaughter and body horror. The last part of this chapter is a flash forward. What happened will be described in the next chapter.

Notes:

✞ The mentioned character of Aurora, Luca's wife, belonged to @zablife.

✞ The bold sentence Heaven says comes from Lana Del Rey.

✞ This is chapter 15 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Usually, each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The dim glow of luxuriant chandeliers cast their orange light over the bar, their warm hue sublimating the rich notes of aged oak from which the counter had been sculpted. Standing alone on a barstool with your crystal gaze fixed on the swirling depths of your glass of red wine, you relished how the liquid gracefully danced and caught the light in a hypnotizing display of crimson elegance. Smooth as silk, its robe was deprived of lees and hugged your throat at each sip. It had been a while since you hadn't drunk such fine alcohol, and this experiment was almost enough to make you forget the curious glances of some noisy clients. As rare as it was to see a woman drinking by herself at the bar without the company of a gentleman due to the prohibited nature of such actions, no one had dared confront you about the matter yet. The waiter had thought of doing so because it didn't feel right to him but one look at the deadly frost of your eyes had been efficient enough for him to swallow his words and mind his own business. Wise decision, you weren't in the mood to be polite. There had been something off in the way you had stared at him, like a wild cat waiting for its prey to come just a little bit closer to pounce on it. He quickly lowered his gaze and went on with wiping down his glass, definitely not taking the risk of causing a scene. Bringing the expensive glass to your plump lips, you froze mid-movement at the sudden feeling of someone's presence behind your back. So, he came. Your mouth slowly curled in a cold, sardonic smirk. Your special guest didn't bother to greet you. Instead, he simply put his fedora hat on the bar counter right where the corner of your eyes you could see it.

"Isn't it the lady who should play hard to get?" You stated before drowning your sarcasm with a gulp of wine, its complex and refined taste displaying all its flavors on your tongue. So far, it has been one of the few places in which the wine was exquisite. And French, of course.

Swiftly slipping between two barstools, the man sat next to you — all his movements, measured and confident, denoted an indescribable elegance.

"So?" A collected and alluring voice inquired, wasting no time in futile courtesy nor in answering your taunt. He would have been surprised if his men hadn't warned him that you were the kind of woman to never be at a loss for words. Just like the two other harpies of the Shelby clan though.

"So, you spare my husband." You finished your glass and put it back on the wooden counter with a movement that translated both your firmness and determination. If there was one thing he had learned throughout his gangster life it was to pay attention to details. Since the very beginning of his criminal activities, Luca always focused on the way someone moved, especially because body language often said much more about people than words themselves. Contrary to prose, the body never lied, and concerning yours the signals were rather clear: you wouldn't cave in. "Oh, and you also spare Finn but it stands to reason. He's just a kid after all." Your request, spoken with a measured yet Artic calmness, snatched an amused snort from the threatening man. How did you dare bargain with him about who would die and who would live while your place wasn't in men's business? Luca slightly shook his head, disconcerted by the fact that the random wife of an enemy could behave so insolently with him while he could easily end her life with the gun he was hiding under his four-digit price jacket.

"In return for what?" His sharp eyes fixed intently on your dainty frame as he spoke. His expression, usually veiled in stoic composure, betrayed a keen attentiveness that mirrored his interest. Making himself comfortable on the barstool, he withdrew a matchbox from his pocket, its metallic surface catching the muted light. With languid grace, he extracted a match, the small stick cradled between his fingers, and brought it to his lips.

"Tommy Shelby." Your voice resounded like a chilling death knell when you pronounced these syllables nonchalantly as if selling one of your in-laws was nothing but one of the many formalities to retrieve your peaceful life. Such apathy was a bit chilling he reckoned. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he held the match delicately between his teeth. After a while, you eventually condescended to look at the man, your iris meeting the splendid green of his. The same green eyes that squinted a little bit now that they had a clear sight of your doll face, whose cold beauty made him wonder what the hell such a delicate thing like you was doing here, involving herself in the middle of intricating gang wars.

"Well, interesting." He mused, a part of him genuinely excited at the thought of butchering Tommy, the other still intrigued by you and how you contrasted with everything else around. No, how you contrasted with everything he had ever seen in his life. Changretta's features, chiseled and unyielding, remained an inscrutable mask, but beneath the surface, a calculated mind sought to see right through you. His posture exuded a quiet confidence despite your unsettling aura and ghostly appearance, a testament to the years of navigating the treacherous underworld of crimes.

"And why should I trust you?" He asked, going on with his observation of every tiny detail of your face. To be honest, Luca didn't imagine you like this. All he had been told about you was that you were the French harlot Arthur Shelby had married, some kind of bratty young girl who came from nowhere. At first, he was convinced that you would be nothing but boring at worst, or entertaining in your way of begging for your husband's life at best but you were none of these. Now that he was sitting next to you at the bar, discussing as if he hadn't murdered one of the most important people in your life, he found himself enthralled by the pure snow-white color of your long hair. More than your unusual hair color, what had surprised him the most was how your coldness cut with the softness of your physical traits. You felt like a walking paradox to him, your appearance conveying a message at the antithesis of what you truly were.

"Because it's all in my interest to see him dead and cold." You replied with a little shrug. Admittedly, you didn't imagine him like this. Quite the contrary, your mind had created the picture of a rat-faced gangster marked with ugly scars and vicious black eyes by dint of hearing how Arthur talked about him. Yet, here you were, facing a rather attractive gentleman with such atypical traits and a charismatic aura that your eternal coldness was slightly shaken. Men of these kinds were always the most dangerous, you thought with full knowledge of the facts. Luca Changretta was something: as slim as Arthur yet standing taller, his face was adorned with a seductive charm and an aquiline nose which rendered his features even more unique.

"Principessa" He started, sneering. Luca pushed the match to the other corner of his mouth with his tongue one last time before his sly fingers grabbed it to put it in the nearest ashtray. Then, his hand reached for the whisky glass the waiter had just put in front of him, "Allow me to doubt that. You are a Shelby, and I've heard your clan is tightly knitted together. Don't think of me fool enough to believe that a Shelby would want to kill another one." Luca concluded his accusation with a little head tilt as he swallowed his whisky in one go. A small grunt of pleasure escaped from his mouth at the pleasant burn the alcohol left in his trail.

"The only reason I bear the name Shelby is for my husband, not for anyone else. If you aren't aware of it may I suggest that your informants only did half of the job otherwise you should have known that Thomas had been nothing but a bane to my existence from the first day we met."

"A bane? That's not a trivial world to use when talking about your brother-in-law." Changretta's fingers, adorned with sleek rings, tapped against the wooden counter as a clear manifestation of his suspicions.

"Well, he had tried to strangle me, then blamed me for his son's abduction, and also for his brother's death and now he is actively seeking to ruin my marriage. I think "bane" is an appropriate way to call him. Now," You said with a little wave of the hand, "if my offer doesn't stir your interest I'd rather leave." When you shifted your body to stand up, Luca's immense hand gently rested on yours to invite you to sit back. The striking temperature difference between his warm flesh and the iciness of your skin gave him sudden goosebumps. Once you did sit back, his unimpressed mask cracked and moved on to an amused and fascinated smile that danced on his thin lips. It was a heavily murderous speech for such a little thing. If it wasn't for the frost you were made of, you would have made him think of his own more fire-coded wife.

"Let me tell you something. My mother was a very patient woman you know?" He said out of the blue with a softer voice, "I've never heard her raise her voice during all my childhood except once. That was one of the many reasons she was a teacher every kid loved. When she did yell at me I was a kid and I just saw a magnificent creature in my nonna's garden. It was an albino ferret, the most beautiful animal I've ever encountered. Straight out of a fairy tale with fur as pure as freshly fallen snow and little beady eyes as red as precious rubies. Usually, wild animals are skippish but that little fella didn't move away when I approached it. It seemed so quiet and docile that I decided to pet it. And do you know what the ferret did?" Luca leaned over you at his question, his face closer to yours and his smirk stretching in an evil grin, "It bit me. That fucking vermin sunk its sharp teeth into my skin and gave me one nasty bite. I still have the scar carved deep in my flesh up to this day. A bite scar among the gunshots and stab wounds." He paused for a while, his green eyes momentarily dropping to your swollen lips and lingering on the white pearly fangs he could glimpse at when you "tsk" at him. The air suddenly crackled with a palpable tension that thickened with every second flying by. Each of his silences loudly echoed the rising intensity of the moment one of you would snap at the other. But it never happened, and the only thing Luca did was grin even more, his squinted eyes meeting yours again. "Should have known it though, this fucking sausage rat had a twisted something in its red eyes. The same vile and twisted something as you, Amore."

His words, coated with honey but cutting like razor blades, made the corner of your plum lips subtlety curl in a dangerous but brief smirk too at the realization that all the rumors surrounding the Italian were true: he was devilishly clever. Maybe that was why you didn't manage to completely hate him despite his horrible actions. While your dainty body, your small size, and the far-too-seraphic complexions of your face often misled people about the brutality that was coursing through your cursed veins and the sickening void of your coal-black pupils, Luca didn't fall for any of them. Not even the glittery makeup and your big round eyes could make him ignore the creepy murmurs of the underlying Devil living in you. After a brief and uncomfortable silence that seemed to last one awful eternity, you finally parted your lips.

"Let me tell you something too," Your voice was a gentle melody, "Arthur and John should have killed your mother." Each word flowed like a soft breeze, carrying a subtle allure that only enhanced the cruelty of their meaning. Your lack of consideration for potentially hurting his feelings had taken him aback. " But they decided to spare her despite Little King Shelby's ruthless order. They genuinely wanted to do it out of sheer compassion" You pursed your lips and backed up from Luca, rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' idiots, they should have killed her when they had the chance." The mobster quickly moistened his lips, the faint surprised expression on his face vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"His ruthlessness was right." He agreed, "They should have." Luca concluded, yet elaborating an arrangement with you didn’t seem to be his top priority suddenly. The mobster already knew he would grant you your wishes, the idea of having direct access to Tommy was too alluring to resist after all. What he wanted at his precise moment was… Different. "You know, I don't fear being bitten anymore — the danger is a deliciously wicked part of the job I learned to accept and love. Considering this, Mrs, Shelby" He let his sentence hanged as he offered you the palm of his hand, long and bony fingers waiting for yours. "May I ask for a dance?" His eyes sparkled with an amusement that hinted at a hidden game, a dance of power between you and him. The seductive charm with which he invited you blurred the lines between rivalry and fascination.

"Do we have a deal?" You inquired with one brow raised, just to make sure he had taken notes of your terms.

"A deal for a dance." He slightly wiggled the fingers of his inviting hand. "Plus, you're already dancing with me in your own way."

A discreet and longer inhale escaped from your nostrils as you weighed the pros and cons but still you slipped your hand into his, which enveloped your skin with a tender strength. A little dance couldn't hurt anyone, you thought. Without further ado, Luca led the way to the dance floor as you both snaked in and out through the crowd until you reached a more spacious corner. It was the mafioso who initiated the dance. First, his grip strengthened around you: not to the extent of hurting you of course but definitely enough to make you understand that you were trapped. Then, his arm wrapped around your waist firmly like a snake. "Closer," He instructed and you obliged, taking a step toward him and placing your free upon his shoulder. After he set the rhythm, you started to move to the slow melody the orchestra was playing across the room. As the haunting music enveloped you, you moved in synchronized steps, your bodies entwined in a waltz that displayed outside tenderness while your eyes held a sharp glint of adversaries locked in an unspoken battle.

Come now, dance with me as the song plays.

With each twirl and turn, the odd and gripping tension you shared thickened, just like an intricate tango of conflicting emotions. As soft as the dance had started, it was gradually turning into a visceral yet elegant battlefield where intimidation and seduction engaged in a delicate but fierce fight.

Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.

Your heart leaped in your tight ribcage at a sudden dip, your hair hanging down like a silver cascade, and your gaze set on the golden sculpted ceiling that quickly flashed in front of your eyes before disappearing, replaced by Luca's intense green eyes again.

Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.

"Don't be shy Amore," He cooed with a charming wink before pulling you even closer to him until your body collided with his. You stopped breathing for a short moment, shutting your eyes when you realized that your face was almost nuzzled in the crook of his neck. In that fleeting moment, you relinquished a fraction of your resistance, swept away by the remote yet familiar feeling of letting someone guide you without any need to think— or maybe that was the sweet fragrance of his cologne which pleasantly tingled your nostrils that woke up memories anchored deep within your mind. From the way he moved to how he behaved, from the luxurious place to the languid melody of the piano, everything was bringing you years ago, back in the comforting arms of your first fiance.

And you hated how pleasant it felt. You viscerally hated it.

Both the song's tempo and Luca's steps fastened as he noticed the subtle change in your facial expression, slowly turning your graceful dance into a dizzying and confusing round. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, daring it to reveal its vulnerability. The room seemed to spin around you and yet, you clenched your jaw and forced yourself to maintain an unmoved facade. No. You wouldn't sink into melancholia. Gathering all your willpower, you chased away the panic that crept within you and felt a rush of anger toward Luca for daring to reopen an old wound you tried to heal every day of your life since you left France. And with anger came the end of your self-control.

To hell with Tommy's plan, you could put an end to this exhausting vendetta yourself by killing the infamous Luca Changretta right here, right now.

Guided by your murderous nature, you started to focus on his heartbeat as soon as you regained control of the dance, forcing him to slow down the pace. In a thorough study of his pulse, you could clearly hear the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat resounding in his chest, and even counted how many times it beat in one minute. And the more you listened to it, the more music faded away in the background.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Killing him would be a piece of cake considering the horrific magic that was coursing through your veins, the magic of blood and flesh. All you would have to do was accelerate his pulse until it became too much for his body to bear. In a minute, Luca would drop to the ground, limp and dead. No blood, no fight, just the sudden and inevitable consequences of a heart attack. Quite different from the gruesome and slow death you had wished to inflict upon Tommy the day he had crossed the line.

"You're a great dancer, Miss Shelby." The mobster stated, having no choice but to follow your slower pace. Now you were the one leading the dance, "Did your husband teach you? I must admit that I have all the trouble of the world imagining Arthur Shelby being good at waltzing." He had already trouble imagining how the most rabid of these Gypsy bastards could have pulled you, to be honest. His tastes regarding women might not encompass you but, God, he thought that your place wasn't beside a man like Arthur Shelby since you could easily be a trophy wife for a classy and far more powerful criminal. Or some blue blood, but these were the same except the latter legally robbed people.

"Arthur is far better at dancing than what he seems but it wasn't him who taught me." Your reply was sharper than intended.

Another dip, smoother this time.

"Another man?"

"Yes."

"So you've been married before." It wasn't a question, it was a statement for the mafioso had easily decypher your micro-expressions despite your best efforts to hide them.

"Engaged. We didn't make it to the actual wedding."

Kill him. Kill him now.

The fingers that were resting on his shoulder dug deeper into his jacket as you channeled the gift your mother had passed you the day of your birth. It could have gone unnoticed if you hadn't paid attention but Luca's eyebrows slightly frowned, not understanding why his heart had started racing like that all of sudden.

"That's a shame. And how does one lose a woman like you? If I had been him I would have rather locked you in the house than let you flee." Luca grinned, his charming voice steady but the way he clenched his jaw betrayed the building pain he was feeling in his chest. Men were all the same: too much ego to show that they were in distress.

"Well, that's how he lost a woman like me." No matter the exact nature of the impact your words had on him it did trigger something within his soul. On top of a literal ache in his heart, his wedding ring became suddenly heavier. In the dance's rhythmic embrace, your witchcraft went on with poisoning Luca's very core. Yet, as the enchantment unfolded, an unforeseen consequence took hold. The more you delved into your mystical powers, the more the mobster's pain echoed within your own body in an unexpected symbiosis. Except that it wasn't in the heart you suffered, but in the belly.

The baby.

You backed up from Luca with a movement so quick it looked like you had touched hot-red metal, hence putting an abrupt end to the dance. A discreet growl fell from the man's lips for when the physical contact broke his heart resumed to a normal pace and the pain mysteriously disappeared. As well as yours.

"Enough fun for tonight." You said with hast, and Luca hadn't the quick thinking to keep you from doing so — the odd and unpredictable behavior of his heart was too concerning for him to carry on with this odd meeting.

"Hm. Yeah, don't forget about our deal." He replied, smoothing the fold of his tailored suit before slowly and discreetly pressing the left side of his chest with the palm of his hand.

" And don't forget to send my regards to your wife Aurora, who seems to be exactly a woman like me." You spat one last taunt with the most polite smile you could make before turning your heels and leaving this damn room.

What the hell had just happened?

According to Tommy, everything went perfectly. Satisfied with the outcome of your mission — and genuinely surprised you hadn't fucked up everything by your rebellious attitude or just for the sheer satisfaction of getting under his skin —, the lead pack dog of the Peaky Blinders went on with the Vendetta. Actually, the one who fucked up the whole plan hadn't been you, but rather Tommy himself following the failure of his surprise attack against Luca. He might have killed a few Italians in the process, but his initial target was still alive and in very good health conditions. A flash of anger and frustration coursed through your body when he told the family about it: here you were back to the start, with Luca not willing to give you a second chance and being more enraged than he already was when he came to England. None of it would have happened if you had listened to your instincts and killed him yourself. Served you right for trusting Tommy's plan for once. And for being reluctant to use the monstrous magic nature gave you. But there had also been... Something else. That weird and unplanned pain in your belly when you had used your magic. With all of this, the cherry on the top was probably Tommy's decision to carry on with today's boxing fight despite it being an obviously awful idea but of course, no one listened to you. Why would they? Tommy always knew better. Tommy always won. Tommy this. Tommy that.

You sighed loudly as you walked through the empty corridor, the cacophony of the crowd turning into a hushed noise when you reached the huge squared mirror that was hanging from the wall. There were so many people gathered in the building that accessing the bathroom would have taken both your precious time and your thin tolerance to social events. That was why you decided to look for a mirror or a window further away to add a few late touches to your makeup as well as to rearrange your hair. You had just finished putting another layer of mascara on your Bambi lashes and grabbed your lip gloss when a gravelly and familiar voice resounded in the hallway.

“I went looking for you.” The voice made you instantly relax, its baritone lilt holding the unique power of blowing your troubles away, both the past and the present ones. With one small yet graceful spin, you turned around to meet Arthur’s slim silhouette that was standing in the doorway. His sharp face, usually displaying a strict look, soon turned soft at the sight of you about to apply gloss on your tantalizing lips, “I thought you’d be in here.”

"And you thought right." You replied with an enamored smile. Arthur was quite delighted by the boxing fight, so there was no need to impede his joy with your concerns. Moreover, he was surely the only thing that kept you anchored during this confusing and stressful period.

The gangster approached you with slow steps and his steel blue eyes shone brighter the more he closed the distance between you and him. “I knew it, always seeking quiet places before a party to doll you up and take a deep breath...” He concluded, visibly proud to display his infinite knowledge about his beloved wife, which made you melt. Then, he stopped right in front of you, "Got a lil' something for me angel." Arthur didn't leave you the time to wonder what it was all about for one of his large hands slipped from behind his back and pulled a white Azalea from it, “Look what I’ve found. Almost as beautiful as you, eh?” The way his face enlightened with the happiest and most genuine smile ever was something you never got bored of. Quite the contrary, it breathed life back into you each time. The ice of your eyes melted at such an endearing gift, turning your frozen traits into a child-like expression with your plump lips forming a silent ‘o’.

“For me? Really? Arthur, you shouldn't have!” You said with an excited but still quieter voice than his booming one. You couldn't believe he found the time to look for you in the middle of tonight's chaos.

"I wanted you to keep a little something with you in case you start panicking eh." He purred, low and gruff voice making his chest rumble. "Are you sure ya don't want me to stay with you?" You preyed the flower from his rough fingers delicately, actively trying not to break its fragile petals, and slipped it in your long silvery mane under your Arthur's tender gaze — he couldn’t help but smirk, enthralled by your beauty just like the first time he had met you, three years ago.

"We already talked about it. Go have fun alright? I'll stay with the women. Moreover, I know Tommy will ask you to stay near him and I'd rather avoid your boring brother, who can't crack a fucking smile for the life of his." You lift yourself on your tip toes to press a kiss on Arthur's jaw. His eyes half-closed at the silky sensation of your lips against his face.

"A very clever move that is. D'ya like the flower? The florist helped me, bet she took pity on me 'cos I looked very lost but she just made me even more confused with all the info she was dumping ay."

A sincere chuckle escaped from your throat at the thought of the lanky and rude gangster standing in the middle of a flower shop with a confused look on his face. Yup, it definitely sounded like something Arthur would do. “So how did you choose the Azalea?” You pondered with innocent curiosity.

“Well, I don't know jackshit about that flower language stuff. I only know roses and you hate ‘em.” He admitted with a smile, cupping your face with his two hands to lay a peck on your nose. As trivial as this detail was he still remembered it and the mix of attention paired with the significance behind your loathing for roses made you swell with love for him. It came even more surprising considering that you only told him about your dislike for roses once during one of the nightly walks you took around the church days after your first encounter. "So I just picked the one that made me think about ya the most, love." He admitted, his hands leaving your face to grip you by the hips bluntly as he peppered you with kisses. Another chuckle fell from your mouth at the tickle of his mustache against your skin.

"No, no, you'll ruin my makeup!" You playfully exclaimed. Trying to flee from his mouth, you tilted your head to the side and gave his stubbled cheek a gentle bite.

“Hey! I bring ye a flower and you thank me with a bite? Ye feral little thing!”

You gave him a second one without waiting for him to finish his sentence, "You're the one to blame. You’re so cute I just want to nibble you.” You replied, completely obliterating the remote noise as well as all the concerns you have been mulling over these past few days. Instead of anxiety, you were now possessed by joy and cuteness aggression, “I swear you look stupidly handsome.” You added with a pout, the target of your small bites shifting from his cheek to his sharp jaw. Arthur hummed, his lips sewn shut in a peaceful smile — he didn't even bother to flee from your teeth, "Alright, go find Tommy before I tear your suit apart."

"Wouldn't mind that, little one." His voice became raspier with anticipation. It seemed like your suggestion had already planted the seed of desire in his mind, for he already started pawing at your body. Nevertheless, your hands caught his wrists to keep him from doing so.

"No, no, no. My makeup is perfect and my dress too expensive for you to ruin it now." You reminded him with a soft laugh.

"Fuck me." The gangster complained but still obliged, keeping his hands to himself. However, the light mood was soon eroded by the question he didn't dare to ask you earlier. Caught in the weight of his demand, his smile dropped a little, "Eeer... Before I leave" He paused, "I wanted to ask you somethin'."

"Hm?"

Arthur let out a long sigh and looked for something inside the pocket of his trousers all the while rambling, "That's a rare occasion tonight. I mean, a good boxing fight with the new Gold lad I coach and an upcoming party that might last all night long y'know. A really great program that is. Exhausting too." His fingers nervously fidgeted with something inside his pocket. His usually relaxed demeanor was replaced by tense shoulders and furrowed brows. Despite his efforts to appear composed, the strain was palpable, lingering in the air as he gathered all his courage. It was after a long hesitation that he finally took a tiny blue vial out and the simple view of it turned your joyful face into deadly ice again.

"Are you serious?" Your voice, a freezing breeze, cut through the air with a stern cadence, "Are you fucking serious, Arthur William Shelby Jr?" Your grip around the small lip gloss you were holding strengthened so much that the skin of your knuckles whitened.

"Hey, that's okay love." Arthur leaned in close. With gentle eyes that mirrored his sincerity, he spoke softly, trying to convey reassurance in each word as your anger simmered. "I didn't take any of it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Nah. Told ya I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice." The gangster lowered his head just like a terrorizing but gentle mutt would do to show his submission, "I wanted to ask if ya allowed me to take some tonight? Ya told me I could if it remained occasional. Wasn't going to take it in your back, I swear." Wrapping yourself in threatening silence, you stood like a tempest in the quiet aftermath, your posture rigid with the echoes of anger. The storm in your eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a contemplative gaze that softened the hard expression of your seraphic face. As the storm clouds of your fury dispersed, a calm determination settled upon you instead. Arthur bit his lips, mustache twitching as he did so, for time seemed suspended as you collected your thoughts and tried to regain control over your fury. You breathed deep and slow while Arthur held his, awaiting your reply and wondering if your reaction would be born from the storm or from the calm eye at its center.

"Give." You said, your melodious and quiet voice breaking the silence, then you snatched the bottle from his hand. Quickly looking to your left and then to your right to make sure no one could interrupt you, you first opened the lipgloss and proceeded to pour the white powder inside your makeup vial. Once this was done, you handed back the empty blue bottle to Arthur and mixed the cocaine with your lipgloss with the help of the small brush, "I have to admit that you're making a great deal of effort. Thank you for asking, I really... Appreciate it." The gangster stood silent and dumbstruck, wondering what the hell you could be doing. "And I did say you could take some snow occasionally." You brought the brush to your lips and carefully applied a great amount of the glistening liquid on your flesh. "So yes, you can take snow tonight... But you'll have to lick it from my lips so that when you kiss me you think I'm God." You smooched your lips together and then smiled, a wicked and tantalizing smirk that sent a sudden wave of fever through his whole being. Arthur swallowed, his gaze fixed upon the enticing curve of your lips. In the stillness of the moment, desire stirred within him, a smoldering ember ignited by the mere sight of you mixed with the sinful words you just spoke. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the subtle movements of your mouth, each gesture a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

"I already do." He breathed with a low growl, his fervid passion turning his lean body into a shaky mess. With each passing second, the intensity of his longing grew, consuming him in a fiery embrace. His heart pounded in his chest, every fiber of his being yearned to bridge the distance between you, to taste the sweet and spice that lingered on your lips. With no more persuading needed, Arthur grabbed your face rough and let his mouth collide with yours, the kiss as brutal as a car crash. His scorching and rapid breath fanned over your skin as he licked your lips from the right corner to the left, the caress of his warm tongue making you moan against his wet flesh. Caught in the fire of desire — and definitely aroused by his carelessness— your trembling hands found rest upon his back, your nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jacket. An immediate wave of euphoria unfurled in his brain when the cocaine saturated his synapses. As needful moans raised in the corridor, Arthur couldn't tell if that was the drug or you that kickstarted his heart and dilated his pupils, but in any case, he was experiencing the most exquisite high he had ever had.

"Fuck." Arthur grunted with pleasure and gave several other licks until none of your gloss remained, then his tongue forced its way between your lips, not minding whether you had time to catch your breath or not because you were the real drug in the end. His deepest and most maddening addiction. "A fookin" Goddess you are hm."

"Arthur, Tommy's looking for—" Johnny Dog didn't finish his sentence, eyes wide open. " I just interrupted something right?" He finally blurted out, the initial shock of walking into such a steamy scene turning into the most annoying smile ever.

"Yeah, yeah Tommy. Alright." He repeated as he tried to break from the haziness. Arthur grunted, his lips still a few inches away from yours and your erratic breath melting together. Giving him one last peck —far more delicate than what you were doing one minute ago— you mouthed a silent "go" and forced yourself to resist the attraction of the invisible magnet that was inevitably pulling you towards the lanky criminal. "Alright!" Arthur roared when he turned back to you, clasping his hands together and walking to Johnny Dog with a carnivorous grin and dilated pupils. The Lee man slapped the eldest Shelby brother's back and, right before he go, shot you a little wink.

Their voices could still be heard when they walked away.

"Gonna wait a bit longer before getting your dick wet, boy."

"Shut the fuck up you fookin' cunt ay and let's watch the fight. I'm feeling bloodthirsty eh."

Three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and disgusting scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

"Arthur!"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses drowned in a deafening symphony of tinnitus, a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him, "Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream. A haunting and otherworldly scream which pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The tall Italian man twitching on the ground, choking in his own blood, should have been proud of his successful attack on the eldest Shelby brother. And yet, all he could do was stare at you horrified, his eyes reflecting the terror of his soul.

"D— Diàvulu..." He mouthed, as death came like the most wonderful relief, bringing his sinner soul far away from you, for even in Hell he'd feel safer.

Anywhere, as long as you weren't there.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers

#Arthur Shelby #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x oc #Paul Anderson #Heaven Shelby #Peaky blinders oc #John Shelby #Polly Gray #Luca Changretta #Luca Changretta x Reader #Arthur SHelby imagine

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emotionalcadaver · 1 year

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Welcome!

My name is Laur. I am 23, use she/her pronouns, and am a fanfiction writer as well as a self-admitted film snob. Most of my fics are focused on OC x Canon pairings.

18+ ONLY. Minors do not interact.

You can also find me on Archive of Our Own.

I do not consent to my work being copied or translated to any other platforms or posted by any other accounts that are not my own. Nor do I give permission for any of my work to be used in the training of AI.

I am always happy to chat, so please feel free to send me an ask or DM anytime! Mutuals are welcome to ask for my Discord!

Dunkirk

Cold Waters & Sunlit Gardens

When she decides to accompany the Dawsons on their voyage to help during the evacuation of Dunkirk, Daisy Preston has little idea of what she is actually getting herself into. All she knows is that there's tea, the roar of planes overhead, and the blue eyes of the handsome, shivering soldier they just rescued from a shipwreck staring at her from across the deck.

In Time

The Shackles of Broken Time

Trapped in poverty and forced to contribute to a cause she doesn't actually believe in, Rose Mason keeps her mind focused on simply surviving day to day. Until a few reckless actions catch her the attention of Timekeeper Raymond Leon; the last person anyone would want to have as an enemy.

Inception

Hiding Here Inside a Dream

Alice Emerson has known Robert Fischer since they were four years old. Instant best friends, they were near inseparable until the meddling of an abusive father drove them apart. But perhaps they can find their way back to one another. And maybe, finally, admit that they've been in love with each other all this time.

Peaky Blinders

Love Me Where I'm Most Ruined (IN PROGRESS)

They call him the Devil. They tell her to stay clear of him. They warn her that he'll steal her soul. But Lucy Winters came to Small Health fleeing monsters and unspeakable trauma. And her soul seems but a small price to pay in exchange for the things that Tommy Shelby has to offer her.

Nocturnal Me

There’s something sitting on the edge of the bed, and it wants her husband.

The Dark Knight Trilogy

The Shadow Game

Broken, traumatized, and more than a little insane, Vanessa Sullivan and Jonathan Crane's childhoods were steeped in horror and loneliness. But when they are assigned as lab partners during their time in college, they realize that they may not be as alone in their madness as they'd both originally thought.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#masterlists

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lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber · 9 months

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Come again, Needle Noggin?

Hello there!

You can call me Cal (He/They), I’ll be your resident writer this morning/afternoon/evening!

Some details about your lovely time here:

I write for:

Star Wars:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi Wan

Luke Skywalker

Din Djarin

Ashoka Tano

Harry Potter: (all either in 7th year or aged up, besides the adults)

Harry Potter

Tom Riddle

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Hermione Granger

Neville Longbottom

Cedric Diggory

Newt Scammander

X-Men:

Charles Xavier

Erik Lehnsherr

Logan Howlett

Scott Summers

Alex Summers

Jean Grey

Hunger Games:

Katniss Everdeen

Peeta Mallark

Coriolanus Snow

Lucy Gray Baird

Sejanus Plinth

The Bear:

Carmen Berzatto

Sydney Adamu

Saltburn:

Oliver Quick

Felix Catton

I also have peaky blinders/cillian murphy blog @red-write-hand, i write cool stuff and can talk over there :]

RULES FOR REQUESTS:

Remember to add in your request:

words count

pairing (x reader, x oc, x canon character)

trope (fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut)

maybe a summary?

I dont do:

incest

dubcon

noncon

nothing with minors (ONLY ACCEPTING REQUESTS WHERE CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP)

vomit/piss/scat

anything with actual people (such as actors, some exceptions are if i specifically say so)

NOTHING BIGOTED (transphobia, homophobia, racism, fatphobia, etc.)

I will write:

close to everything else!

just give me some time, i'm kinda slow, i will get out more headcanons out than fics but those will still get published :]

Last thing, sorry for keeping you...

BE NICE :)

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justrainandcoffee · 6 months

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Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1.

(Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games)

Series masterlist - Alfie x Rose masterlist

Summary: Six years ago, Alfie won his games and the ghosts of those years still haunts him. But he has not choice but go to the Capitol, once again, because that's his role as mentor. No one of those kids who went with him to the Capitol survived and probably this year it'll be the same. Fuck the Capitol and its citizens. They're all the same. The thing is... Not all of them are the same.

Series warnings: Mentions of sex (consent and non-con). Murders. Blood. PTSD. Cheating. Prostitution. || This is set in Panem universe. Topics as minors being sexual corrupted are also mentioned because it's CANON.

Words: 3.1k

Six years earlier.

District 8.

Rose woke up sighing. Last week she celebrated her 18th birthday. Already an adult and yet, once last time she had to prepare herself for the reaping day.

The last six years of her life were tortuous. Year after year, praying for a miracle. But for now, God or whoever was up there, listened to her.

Just one more time.

Her brother Samuel was already up when she went to the kitchen. He was 13, almost 14, and that was his second time facing that not so special day.

"Hi, Sam."

"Rosie…"

She tried to prevent him from asking for things so he couldn't get any extra tesserae but also, there was a time where she fell ill for almost a month and Samuel was the one who had to ask for medicine. His name was ten times on those damn papers. Rose's name was fifty-five.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"If by okay you mean that there's a chance I can be reaped and then die then, no, I'm not okay. But I'm still alive and these toasts are good, so yes, I'm okay."

"Everything will be fine, Sam."

"Except for one boy and one girl."

Rose nodded, "except for them."

The escort who always visited the district during the reaping day was an extravagant man called Alistair Pullman, who had half of his hair blue and half white. Perfectly combed. He also had a ridiculous moustache and talked in a funny way.

"Welcome to The 53th Hunger Games!" Alistair exclaimed. He was wearing a white hat and a brilliant green suit.

The introduction was always the same. Same words, same tone of voice.

"…as always, ladies first."

Her heart was pounding.

Please, help me one more time.

Alistair picked up a paper and opened it "Rose… Gregg."

Gregg. Not Coldwell. Not Coldwell. She couldn't help but cried. The odds were indeed on her favour. After all those years, after all those fucking tesserae, she did it. She was never reaped.

Rose Gregg was a thin ginger girl. She was also crying but for very different reasons. She was probably walking towards her death. Rose Coldwell felt sorry for her.

"And now the gentlemen…"

The boy, luckily, wasn't her brother but a boy called Martin Wallis.

When she had the chance, she ran towards her little brother and hugged him tightly.

It was indeed a good day. At least for the Coldwells.

Far away in district 9 a boy called Alfred had been reaped.

Now.

District 9.

"How old are you?" Alfie asked.

"19."

"You're fucking not. How old are you?"

"16."

"Fuck off. Go home, girl."

"Please, sir! My sister and I, we're hungry! Let me show you! Other men say I'm good… I can be good. Whatever you want, sir."

Alfie went to the kitchen and grabbed some canned food and bread and gave it to her. "I said fuck off."

He growled. Not infrequently women and sometimes men knocked on his door offering sexual services in exchange for food or medicine he now had. Since he won his games six years ago that was a every day routine. And not so infrequently, too, he accepted their offer. It was a good way to stop thinking. As long as the person was adult and never vaginal sex. The last thing that the world needed was more kids. Were his actions questionable? Who the fuck cared? That was Panem not a fucking monastery. You had to survive and every person chose their methods. At least he wasn't a fucking rapist.

Alfie tried not to think about it. It was only once but…

He knocked the rest of the cans out of his table. He was angry.

It was months after his victory. A woman in her 50s paid for a night with him. And he didn't have the option to say no. The lady had a fetish for young teenage boys who were like him. They forced him to take a pill so he could last longer during the sex encounter. Not only the woman was older than his own mother but also was incredibly annoying. He forced himself to close his eyes and just do his job. It was the longest and most unpleasant night of his life.

No one else wanted him. Too rude and not childish enough to them. He already had beard. People of the capitol preferred baby faces. Alfie never shaved again in his life, that kept the rest of the citizens away from him.

And that day was the beginning of a new nightmare. Once again, a new reaping day. Another year where probably he was going to lose another boy and another girl.

He watched the ceremony from the distance. Both girl and boy were 15 years old. The boy named Philip had only one hand.

Alfie knew it from the very beginning, Philip had his days numbered. Later he could study the girl. In the distance he heard the train already waiting for them.

The Capitol. Wealthy, big, colourful… full of hypocrisy and heartless bastards. Full of people cheering for the tributes and waiting for them to be slaughtered by other kids. He despised that place. Their escort, Alissa, was speaking but Alfie wasn't paying attention to her.

The training centre was full of people. From servants to guards. Alfie saw how other victors talked to the new tributes, introducing that place. Philip and the girl were at his side in silence listening to Alissa who was too enthusiastic about these new games.

A short woman approached them and greeted Alissa with a big smile and also the kids. She just nodded at him, probably reading his facial expression.

"I'm the new stylist," she introduced herself to him and the rest "I'm Rosebeth. And I'm glad to announce you're going to shine."

Another fucking year. Rose watched the different kids being selected on TV. Same old story. Happy and proud faces on those from district 1 and 2, resignation on the rest of them.

That was her first year working as stylist and they assigned district 9 to her. The previous stylist had problems with authorities and he had been incarcerated. Probably killed by now, she didn't know. And Rose learnt that it's better not to ask.

If you wanted an answer all you had to do was wait and listen. Sooner or later, people talked. Especially those wealthy bitches ready to spread gossips.

The train was already there. And Rose prepared herself. Time to be someone new.

When you're part of the Capitol, you had to act like one. You couldn't have a simple and mundane name as Rose. Because of that she merged her both names in one, Rose Elizabeth: Rosebeth. And voilà, she wasn't a simple girl anymore.

Not long time ago she was part of the districts too. She didn't born there. She hated the Capitol, the ideals, the way that those kids were treated. Rose wanted to burn that place from the ground and watch it explode in thousand of pieces. And was already working on it.

But for now she was the stupid, superficial and happy Rosebeth Evert, married to one of the richest men there. And one of the biggest piece of shit, too.

"What happened to André?" the mentor asked. She looked at him and smiled.

"André isn't here anymore. As I said, I'm the new stylist and for the next weeks we're a team. The five of us, isn't that great?"

Alissa clapped happily and Philip smiled. Alfie and the girl remained in silence.

While they entered the elevator to go to their floor, Alfie realised he was mad. No, in fact, he was disgusted. At least André was a man who he could talk with. The woman in front of him was nothing but the perfect example of a empty minded person who probably celebrate every death. The next few weeks were going to be a hell. He looked at her and Alissa talk like very good friends but said nothing.

Alfie knew the place but the kids not. The floor that the Capitol gave to district 9 was big, elegantly decorated and with enormous windows facing the city.

Alissa was jumping here and there expressing her gratitude for the food on the table, the soft music on the background and almost everything.

"You're Reah," said Rose looking at the girl. Contrary to Philip, Reah was shy and quiet. Not agressive at all, just timid. The girl girl nodded "I'm already thinking about your dress, Reah. But I need opinions, what do you like about your District? I'm against all traditional, sweetie. André was good, but too classic. Make them talk about you, Reah."

"Reah wants peace. Her life is about to change forever, last thing she needs is to talk about stupid costumes."

Rose looked at the mentor who just talked. She read his files. Alfred Solomons, winner of the 53th Hunger games. An impressive number of seven deaths, one of them by decapitation. Two sickles was all he needed to be a victor. But the grumpy man in front of her had nothing to do with the photo in the files she read.

"Well, Alfred, what about let the girl talk instead of speaking for her? My reputation depends on the parade and I'm not going to ruin it because you're against it."

"It's okay," Reah said shyly. "I'd like to talk about the costume."

Alfie huffed before turning around and go to his bedroom.

The fucking Capitol.

But Alfie had nothing to say when he finally saw the costumes. Over the years, he had seen his mentored kids dressed as corn or a wearing weath hats. That night, both Reah and Philip represented Ceres, the roman goddess of grains. Comparing the costumes to distract 1, for example, probably they weren't that extravagant. But if you looked closer you could see the little details like weath ears made of golden threads perfectly sewed to the fabric. Plus longer weath ears made of real gold outstanding over their shoulders and heads.

Alissa was fascinated and told Rose. Alfie remained in silence.

Apparently, people loved them too.

The only thing that Alfie thought was that maybe that could help him to get sponsors for them.

At that hour the building was almost empty except for guards and some night workers. No one asked her what she was doing at those hours. She's carrying a sewing machine in her arms and some clothes on her shoulders.

Rose was trying to ignore her heartbeat. You had to start with something, right?

"To spy my husband," she said to the seller who didn't ask much questions when she bought a microphone.

She gave two fucks her husband. He was probably now celebrating with some other men in a bar thinking about the tributes and who could win.

A guard stopped her when she tried to enter the control centre. She knew that was going to happen. She wore her fakest smile.

"You can't pass, ma'am."

Rose giggled stupidly "oh, I know, love. But Claudius is there and I have a message for him from my cutie husband Lawrie Evert. It's just five seconds."

The guard looked at her and used the communication device on his wrist to speak with other guard inside. After a short exchange of words he let her in.

The message was fake. Probably the man named Claudius will forget that, but it gave her the chance to be inside the most precious room in the whole Capitol. The fucking control centre. No one noticed that she put the tiny mic under the table. Especially because everyone was busy and because the clothes covered her arms. Long life battery. Probably it will last longer than this game edition.

Once she left the room and the hallway. That stupid smile she hated so much disappeared from her face.

"Be careful with her," an old victor warned Alfie once the training began.

Alfie had been watching Philip and he was extremely surprised by his ability to use spears despite having only one hand. It's not like district 9 had a lot of wild animals to hunt. Alfie promised himself to ask the boy about it later.

"With who?"

"Your stylist. Do you know her husband?"

"I don't know a shit about her except that she's annoying and she's laughing like an idiot all the time. Who the fuck is her husband?"

"Lawrence Evert."

Alfie stopped looking at the boy to look at the victor. It was the black woman known as Volcano Girl. Alfie was a little kid by the time she won, probably 4 or 5 years old, he barely remembered those games. But for a few years Aveline Young was quite popular. She was 34 years now, almost two decades passed from the moment she won.

"What?" Alfie asked looking at her.

Lawrence Evert was a bad word. It was an open secret the things he did to some victors. Even Alfie who was one of the youngest and hadn't heard everything, knew about him.

"Just telling you, Alfie. I couldn't trust her if I were you. Who the fuck can marry that bastard?"

His head were full of questions. Not only now he had to protect those kids from other tributes, but in case that any of them could win, he had to ptotect her o him from the husband of a woman who was pretending to be their friend.

The hostility towards her the following days only increased. Alissa tried to calm him, talked to him about other things but he didn't cooperate. Every time Alfie found her talking to Reah or Philip alone, he approached them.

Those bastards were everywhere. Every night when Alfie looked through the window and watched the lights he asked himself how many of them corrupted kids. The answer was probably: a lot.

Four nights before the beginning of the 60th Hunger Games, Alfie saw Rose dancing with Philip a tropical song. Both of them were laughing, but he wasn't. Not just he turned the music off, but warned the woman with his finger.

"It's nothing…" Philip tried to say.

"It's fucking a lot. Go to bed, now. You need to rest," the man ordered.

"But Alfie…"

"Go to the fucking bed, Philip!"

The boy nodded and left the dining room, leaving the two adults alone.

"Stay fucking away from them."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rose frowned "the moment you put a feet here you treated me bad, but these last days were awful… as far as I know I did nothing! So tell me, Alfred, what the fuck is wrong with you!!"

"With me? I came forced here! And I'm doing my job! Part if it is protecting those kids from monsters like you!"

Alissa appeared that moment to tell them that they were yelling at each other. Rose open the balcony door violently. Alfie was behind her.

"What the fuck do you mean by monsters like me. Because I was giving the kid a moment to be a child again? Joking and dancing trying to make him forget about his fate?? I don't understand, so tell me!"

"You know nothing, don't you?" Alfie snorted. "Probably you spend your days thinking what ridiculous shoes to buy, what new fucking bag to wear. Meanwhile in your back your beloved husband is a pe…"

"A what?!"

"Pedophile."

Alfie saw the exactly moment where life escaped from her eyes. She was paralyzed.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why don't you ask victors what do they think about Lawrence Evert?"

"What the fuck are…oh God." Rose felt sick and ended up vomiting in a flowerpot that was there. Alfie didn't move.

It couldn't be. Those years she had heard those rumours and never doubted about it. But that was new information. Disgusting new information. Her marriage it was recent, she accepted because he promised to keep her brothers names out of the bowls and he fulfilled the promises. Now Samuel was safe from it, he was 19, but her little brother Louis was only 14.

"FUCCKKKK!!" she screamed in the wind, crying. She let him fucked her without knowing he touched kids. She felt dirty. It was disgusting. "How many…" she thought. She didn't want to know. When she calmed down, moments later, she faced Alfie who was still there.

"You too?"

"No. Not by him, at least."

"I didn't know. Please, believe me, I didn't know. This kid, Philip, he is barely older than my little brother. I miss him! For me he's nothing but like my brother Louis. I never… never!"

"Yeah. I can see you didn't know. I believe you. But I don't want you near them. I don't trust people like you. Capitol citizens enjoying the killing. You didn't touch them, but I bet my ass you enjoy the games. Born in a fucking golden crib..."

"Don't you dare to talk about me like you know me, Alfred. You know a shit about me! I'm from district 8! I put my fucking name 185 times during my adolescence. I was fucking lucky that I never been reaped. I suffer from the same misery than you or these kids. I was lucky that when I was 19 they accepted me to work here. I'm sorry your lucky was worst than mine. But don't you dare to judge me. You don't know me. You don't."

When she left the balcony, Alfie kicked the wall. Everything was a shit.

Reah and Philip the next days continue training. Alfie prepared them to face the judges. Rose was in her studio finishing the clothes for their interview on live TV. They barely talk to each other during those days. But they didn't yell at each other either.

At night, alone on her bedroom, Rose heard the conversation in the control centre and took notes: Specific words, times, names, codes… She also knew that the arena was a copy of a Grand Canyon. Beautiful but mortal. She couldn't tell Alfie, even if she wanted to. She didn't trust him. He could tell this secret to other victors and it could be the end.

Both kids ending their training with 7 points over 12 and the TV presentation was successful even for the shy Reah.

If kids could make it, was another story. That night, the last night, no one said a word but everyone knew that it was going to be the last supper for one of them. In the worst scenario, both of them.

Alfie found himself staring at the woman he knew as Rosebeth. She was quiet and she didn't look at all like the person of the previous days.

Next part

#alfie solomons #alfie x rose #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders #hunger games au #crossover #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic

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peakyswritings · 6 months

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The Danger We Come From

CHAPTER I

A Peaky Blinders x Hunger Games crossover

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nina Ferrante

Summary: during the 72nd edition of the Hunger Games, one year after her victory, Nina becomes a mentor. But the events of the previous edition are still imprinted in her mind.

Warnings: mentions of violence and murder, no proofreading, I’m writing this for fun.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of this crossover! If you haven’t read it yet, I recommend you to catch up with Nina’s backstory before reading this. More information is given in the masterlist I’ve linked below. Also, there’s a brief reference to @justrainandcoffee ’ OC, Rose.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul (set in canon times).

AU MASTERLIST

71st edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

After tying the end of her braid with a white ribbon, Nina took one last look in the mirror to make sure her appearance was neat enough. The clothes she had chosen for the occasion were a bit too lose for her scrawny frame, but she had found a safety pin to hold the grey skirt up, and the white shirt was clean and undamaged. It wasn’t that bad, overall.

Fear felt like a vice grip on her stomach as she tried to muster up the courage to head to the kitchen, convincing herself that the sooner she got to the Justice Building, the sooner it would end. But the thing was - it wouldn’t end. Nina could feel it in her bones, she was sure of it as she was sure of her own name. She had asked for too many tesserae for the odds to be in her favour one last time.

When she entered the room, her father was sitting at the table, staring at an indefinite point ahead of him. Her mother and brothers were probably already waiting outside, like every year. Just like her, they seemed eager to get it over with, like one would with the extraction of an aching tooth.

“I’m ready,” she murmured, catching her dad’s attention. Ready. It sounded almost funny, in that situation.

He got up from the chair, giving her the sad, forced smile of a man who knew his daughter was up for a slaughter, but tried to keep it together for everybody’s sake. “It’s the last year,” he murmured, reaching his hand out to tenderly caress her cheek. “You can be lucky once again.”

Those words struck a chord in Nina, awakening the sleeping rage she fought so hard to keep at bay. She could’ve been lucky, if she hadn’t been forced to take the burden of not only one, but two families on her shoulders, without anyone doing a damn thing about it.

“It’s time to go,” she simply said, taking a step back.

Her father’s hand fell by his side, and a flicker of pain shone in his eyes for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him right away, causing him to give up before even starting to speak. Not surprised by that silence, Nina nodded to herself and turned around to walk to the door, but she was soon stopped by her dad’s voice.

“Nina,” he called her, making her turn around. His gaze hesitantly found hers, and it took him a moment to begin again. “How many times is your name in the reaping bowl?”

She faltered at his question, and she wondered if it’d be of any use to tell him the truth now. It didn’t take her long for concluding that it wouldn’t. What was done was done, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already knew the truth. He just pretended to be oblivious to it, just like everybody else.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, walking out the door.

The banners of the Capitol solemnly hanged off the walls of the Justice Building, their bright red sharply contrasting with the grey stones. The expensive fabric seemed almost ridiculous in that picture of poverty and desolation. Those banners didn’t belong there.

Nina didn’t bat an eye as the peacekeeper prickled her finger to confirm her identity. After six years, she had kind of gotten used to it. The same couldn’t be said for Agnese, her cousin, who still flinched when the needle pierced her skin. When Agnese’s sisters got identified as well, the small group separated, with Nina and Agnese taking their places in the front rows, and the other two with the younger girls. On the stage in front of them stood the two reaping bowls, filled to the top with names. Behind them, the escort sent by the Capitol - what was her name again? -, the mayor and district 9’s only victor, Alfie Solomons. When the mayor stepped forward, the soft buzz of voices died down, and the square fell silent. Agnese grabbed Nina’s hand and held it tightly, giving her an encouraging look. She really thought that both of them would make it.

As the mayor recited the history of Panem, Nina’s mind started wandering, searching for something else to focus on. She had heard it so many times that she would be able to recite it by heart, if asked to. She needed to get out of there, if just for a moment, even if just with her head, but the only thing she could think about was what would happen if the escort called her name. The escort. The woman’s intricate hairstyle caught her eye, offering her brain some sort of escape. Lime green was an interesting choice of colour. It had to be a wig. There was no way that one person could have that much hair. How did it even manage to stay up like that?

Her mind chased thought after thought, capturing the most trivial details and transforming them into the object of deep reflection, until the escort’s high-pitched voice snapped her out of that sort of trance. She hadn’t even noticed that she had stepped forward, taking the mayor’s place.

“Now it’s time for us to find out who will have the honour to represent district 9 in the 71st edition of the Hunger Games,” she smiled, making her way toward one of the bowls. “As usual, ladies first…”

She’d call her name. She knew it.

Nina held her breath as the escort grabbed one of the white cards, her struggling with opening it with her long nails only prolonging the painful wait.

There was her name on that card. She could feel it. She would be reaped. She would die.

If the square had been silent before, now one could almost hear the fluttering of a fly’s wings. Time seemed to stand still while the woman finally opened the card, taking her time before announcing the female tribute.

“Nina Ferrante.”

Nina’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she hoped it had only been a trick of her imagination. But it wasn’t. The way her cousin turned to look at her, like the other people who knew her, told her that all of that was very much real. Her ears rang as she made her way toward the stage, a strange feeling of numbness pervading her completely. A few peacekeepers boarded her to make sure she wouldn’t run away. But running away was the last thing on her mind while she mechanically walked in the empty corridor that lead to the stage, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what was happening. However, that sort of disconnection didn’t prevent her from yanking her arm free from one of the peacekeepers’ grip when she felt his hand wrap around it, glaring at him. If she had to walk to her death, she’d walk on her own.

“Come, dear,” the escort gently put a hand behind her shoulder once she stepped on the stage, guiding her to the center.

Nina slowly started to register what was happening around her, to her, when she met Alfie Solomons’s unreadable gaze, and when the crowd’s pitiful look started to pierce through her. It angered her, the way they were looking at her. As if she had absolutely no chance.

“And for the boy…” the woman reached the other bowl, catching her attention once again. She opened the card, this time more easily. “Oliver Cropper.”

Oliver Cropper. She knew that boy. They were in the same class, before he dropped out of school to help his family. They even say next to each other, from time to time. As far as she could remember, he was a nice kid, a bit lonely and broody, but kind. The tall, lanky boy stepped on the stage, in his dark eyes the same look she had until a couple of minutes ago.

“Our tributes from district 9,” the escort proclaimed, a big smile plastered on her face. “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

72nd edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

Exactly one year had passed since Nina’s reaping. Against all expectations, she was still there, alive. Even her family couldn’t believe it when she was proclaimed victor.

In her house in the Victor’s Village, the life she had left behind felt as distant as ever. She didn’t have to ask for tesserae to support her family, she didn’t have to put up with Salvatore’s addiction, or Pietro’s anger, or her mother’s apathy, or her father’s silence. They had all chosen to keep on living in the family home, chained to the memory of a time when they were still whole. Nina, on the other hand, had closed the door on it. Or so she told herself.

She was a mentor, now. After the reaping, she would head to Capitol City once again, but with an entirely different role. Although she hated the idea of going back to that place, she felt somehow obliged to. There was only one victor besides her in district 9, after all, and those kids needed all the advice they could get. It didn’t feel right to go on with her life without caring about what happened to them.

72 years. That shit had been going on for 72 years, and no one had ever done anything to stop it. People watched their children be sent to the slaughter without batting an eye, simply accepting the way things were. What was it that made them so afraid to act? The worst was already happening, right in front of their eyes.

There had to be a way to stop it. It was a nagging thought, one that had been tormenting her for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that things had to stay like that forever. There had to be a way to change them.

The square in front of the Justice Building was just starting to fill up when Nina arrived. Hundreds of kids, waiting for two of them to be possibly sent to their deaths, hoping the selected cards wouldn’t bear their name. It felt strange, not to be part of it anymore. Her two younger cousins were, though, and she couldn’t ignore that the possibility of one of them being reaped was not so distant as she thought. It was a terrifying prospect, one she never allowed herself to dwell on, for the consequences would be devastating.

“Hello, kid,” a familiar voice pulled her from her brooding. She was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed that Alfie had joined her on the stage.

“Alfie.”

They stood there in silence for a while, in an unspoken agreement that there wasn’t much to say, in that situation. However, Nina didn’t fail to notice the scowl on his face, and couldn’t be silent about it. “I see you’re in a good mood, as usual.”

“No reason to be in a good mood.”

“Right,” she nodded. After a moment of pause, feeling the need to lighten the mood in some way, Nina started speaking again. “Well…” she raised her eyebrows, pondering her next words. “You do have one,” she teased him, holding back a mischievous grin. The glare he sent her way told her he knew all to well what she was referring to. Who she was referring to. And he was probably fed up with her teasing already.

“Just kidding,” she raised her hands in defeat.

Their brief exchange was stopped by the mayor, who stepped forward to officially start the reaping. The whole process went by faster than Nina remembered, and she figured time is perceived in a very different way when you’re not the one risking your life. Much to her relief, none of her cousins were reaped. The names of the 72nd Hunger Games’ tributes were Nora and Lucas.

The boy, Lucas, was thirteen, and Nora was eighteen. Her reaping had been bad luck, just like Nina’s. She looked so young that it felt impossible that they were almost the same age, and Nina wondered, did she look that young too the day of her reaping?

From the reaping on, everything happened in a haze, and before Nina could realise it, they were all sitting in the luxurious train taking them to Capitol City. Elle, the escort, took it upon herself to enumerate all the wonderful things they would see at the Capitol, all the comforts they would be provided with during their stay, the food they would get to eat, but the kids were too busy trying not to panic to even hear a word she was saying.

“Elle,” Nina interrupted her with a scolding tone. “I think it’s enough.”

Silence fell in the wagon, and for a few minutes no one said a thing, gathering their thoughts before starting to talk about more serious matter. Nina felt a pair of eyes on her, and it didn’t take her long to notice that Nora was looking at the ugly scar that crossed the left side of her face, from the tip of her eyebrow to the centre of her cheek. Although the girl was trying to be subtle with it, she wasn’t really discreet. Nina wasn’t offended, though, nor did she feel uneasy. She was aware it was almost impossible not to let the eye fall on it, especially for a young girl.

“Alright,” Nina suddenly spoke, deciding they had wasted enough time already. “First rule, use your brains. They’re the biggest weapon you can have in the Arena.”

“My biggest weapon is my strength.” Lucas interrupted her, causing her to turn to look at him. She knew he hadn’t done it out of defiance, but out of eagerness to talk about the things he considered most important.

“I’m strong,” he added. “I work the fields with my dad.”

“You work the fields,” Nina repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“The kids from the Career districts are trained in Academies. Chances are, if one of them crosses your path - you’re dead, no matter how strong you are.”

Alfie cleared his throat, probably signalling her that she was being a bit too harsh, but she ignored him.

“It’s a good thing to be strong,” she continued, softening her tone a bit. “It’s an advantage. But even your strength won’t be enough to save you if you don’t know how to use your head. The Arena is tricky. It’s not just the tributes that you need to worry about. It’s the plants, the berries, the mutts, even the fucking water. You have to know what to look out for.”

Lucas nodded, leaning back in his seat as he listened attentively to Nina’s words.

“Watch, observe, take as much as you can. You know your strengths, so work on your weaknesses,” she concluded, shifting her gaze between Lucas and Nora.

She didn’t want to seem mean, or sour, but she knew that being too soft wouldn’t help those kids. They didn’t need someone to sugarcoat the truth, they needed to know what to expect if they wanted to have a chance to get out of the Arena alive. And Nina would do anything in her power to help them. It was her job, now. She couldn’t fail them.

NEXT CHAPTER

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#peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #hunger games au #hunger games fic

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