#peaky blinders

[thomashelbyswife]

Tommy Shelby serving total cunt in glasses requested by: anon <3

[hllywdwhre]

The Hunt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Spicy hide-and-seek with Tommy

Word count: 1350

Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamic, maybe CNC? She fights back but everything is consensual, use of ‘pet’ as a pet name but no pet play, inaccurate description of the floor plan of the library (leave me alone), mild bondage, spanking, rough sex, p in v, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Notes: before I got the promotion and all hell broke loose with Helene’s bitch ass coming through, this was going to be part of my kinktober😌enjoy, sluts

Your heart pounded in your ears as you tried as quietly as possible to move throughout the massive manor. Tommy had given you a two minute head start to try and hide from him, but you knew he would eventually find you, and you both eagerly awaited it and longed not to be caught.

The longer he had to look, the better it would be for both of you.

There was something about knowing he was looking for you. About knowing that when he found you, he was going to make you scream.

You heard the sound of the door opening down the hallway and tensed. You were hidden in one of the spare bedrooms’ closets and under a pile of old blankets resting in the corner.

As you heard the rest of the doors open and shut and heard his footsteps grow nearer to you, you couldn’t help but focus on the sounds of your own breathing, forcing your breath to come out silently despite the adrenaline making you want to take deep gasps.

“Come on out, pet. You know you can’t hide from me forever,” Tommy called to you.

The door opened to the room you were in and you held your breath, freezing completely when the closet door opened.

To your surprise, he didn’t look under the blankets and shut the closet door. You waited until you heard him begin to look in other rooms before daring to step out of your hiding spot.

Without making a noise, you made your way out of the closet and peaked under the door of the bedroom, trying to see if you could see any sign of him. When you saw him step into his office, you quietly opened the door and took off towards the library.

As you stepped inside, you left the door cracked. It was a give away as to where you were (for now), but the sound of the door closing was even more damning. You didn’t allow yourself too much time to think of where to hide, instead running to the opposite corner of the room. You grabbed a pillow from the little sofa near the fireplace before hiding behind the very last row of bookshelves that lined the room. The shelves were about three feet high, meaning you had to crouch down behind them to remain hidden, but you would be able to see Tommy as he walked past them.

“You’re getting sloppy, pet. You left the door open,” Tommy suddenly called as he stepped into the room. “It’s like you want me to find you,” he taunted.

You didn’t reply and kept your breathing as even as possible, peaking your head around one of the corners to watch as he walked through the rows of books, looking down each row of them.

When he was about three rows away from you, you threw the pillow like a frisbee to the opposite side of the room and took a few moments of him investigating the cause of the sound to crawl past the rows of books he had already looked down and hiding in between two of them.

It was when you heard the sound of his shoes and then heard nothing that your heart dropped. He had taken off his shoes to muffle the sound of his footsteps, meaning you would have to risk actually looking back to get some sign of where he was at.

You peaked around one corner and didn’t see him at all.

Suddenly, a hand came down over your mouth at the same time that you heard his voice whisper in your ear, “Nice try.”

You began trying to squirm out of his grip as his arm wrapped around your waist and picked you up. You didn’t even use half of your strength to try and fight him. You only wanted to irritate him more, not risk truly hurting either of you.

“That cunt is mine now, pet,” he growled out, roughly forcing you over the edge of the bookshelf and pinning your hands behind your back.

The bookshelves were just high enough that you couldn’t get any traction on any of the shelves or the floor, but that didn’t stop your petulant squirming.

A rough slap landed on your ass, causing you to freeze long enough for Tommy to lift your skirt over your hips and trail his fingers along your cunt.

“No panties and you’re soaking wet, yet you’re trying so hard to get away from me,” he teased before his touch was gone and you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. “Now, you’re going to take my cock like a good little whore since you made me chase you all over this godforsaken manor and lay you over the bookshelf, understood?”

You bit your lip to hide a smirk and tried squirming under him again, only to be met with two more quick slaps to your ass that caused you to whimper. As soon as your motions faltered, he lifted one of your legs and placed it over the edge of the bookshelf, then pushed inside you in one quick motion.

“Fuck!” You yelped and moaned out all at once. The stretch burned, but you were wet enough just from the chase that it didn’t truly hurt.

Tommy gave you no time to adjust before he was pounding into you with abandon. He kept a tight grip on your wrists that were still locked in his hands and a grip on your thigh that was over the edge of the bookshelf, using them to keep you in place. With a slight change of the angle of his hips, you were moaning loudly underneath him and he was chuckling above you.

“Good girl,” he praised, “take my cock like you were meant to do.”

You clenched around him at the praise and felt his hand move from your thigh and his fingers go to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts and causing your moans to turn to desperate whimpers.

“Fought and hid so well for what? I can feel the way you already want to cum around me,” he taunted, causing a small bit of embarrassment to fill you at just how quickly he had managed to get you to the edge already.

“Please, Tommy, can I cum?” You begged. The coil in the pit of your stomach grew tighter and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer.

“Go ahead,” he said easily, “but I’m not stopping until I finish, too, pet.” As if to punctuate his point, the speed of his thrusts picked up and he made sure to hit that spot inside you every time.

You gave in to the pleasure, knowing he was going to keep going but not being able to hold yourself back. Your nails dug into the palms of your hand and the only thing that fell from your lips was a symphony of curses and his name.

With your orgasm taken care of, Tommy began focusing on his own pleasure, letting his thrusts become reckless and sloppy as he chased his own high.

Your whimpers, moans, and the way you said his name at the onslaught of pleasure only spurred him on and it was moments later that you could feel his release spilling inside of you.

He dropped your hands and both of his came to either side of you while his head dropped to the center of your back. You could feel his heavy breaths trail down your back and a slow trail of kisses going down your spine.

“Nice trick with the pillow,” he complimented with a slight chuckle, pulling you into his arms bridal style. “Next time, don’t turn your back to me.”

You let out a small chuckle of your own and rested your head on his chest.

“I already have my next route planned,” you promised.

[i-blindside]

Cillian Murphy | *thud*

[jokmeysblog]

[normalbrothers]

MICHAEL: What was he like, my dad? How did he die?

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WARMTH

A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - REGENCY AU WITH TOMMY SHELBY

Pairing.| Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| The Queen is not spared by the King’s cruel nature. However she does get to feel his warmth.

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, rough sex, p in v, groping, hitting, manipulating, somnophilia at the end

Word count.| 2k

King Thomas Shelby.

To the Kingdom, your husband was their savior. He brought his people out of starvation. Graced the skies of Birmingham with produce, conquest and wealth. The Kingdom that was once doomed to be a dark city of brimstone and ash, has been reborn into a vigorous land.

But to you, he was frightening. He was the weather, his conditions were constantly changing, you could never precisely predict what would occur with him. One moment, he was a brute. Completely ruthless to everyone around him, his humanity drained empty. Those loyal to him - including yourself, his Queen- were not spared by his wrath. But then, the next, he was kind, thoughtful, gentle, and genuine. His persona constantly shifted. You quickly learnt that you would have to wear multiple hats with him, in order to attempt to stay on his good side.

You had been married to the King for only a month. His army had effortlessly conquered your small kingdom. It was your father’s fault, as Thomas claimed. Your father had refused to create an unfair alliance with the Kingdom of Birmingham. So King Thomas declared war.

When your father kneeled before King Thomas, Thomas demanded all of his daughters to come forward. For his personal award of conquest, he wanted to take your sisters and yourself away. However, when his devilish blue eyes laid on you, he had a change of heart.

The ceremony commenced the day your carriage arrived at the Kingdom of Birmingham. The three day journey was not enough time for preparation of your new life. Your family were not invited, eternally banished from Birmingham, forcefully abandoning you from your loved ones.

On your wedding night, you learnt that the King was a slithering snake. He fed lies down your throat to satisfy his own needs and insecurities. He deflowered you without care, but then afterwards he worshiped your body. He kissed every inch on your skin as if you were dipped in gold.

On this cold, late evening, you sat on the edge of your bed. Still sniffing the tears away caused by the events from earlier on. You rubbed your hands anxiously as you felt like your feet were cemented down. The bath did not clean your dirty skin, the steam failed to clear your clouded mind.

“My love” Thomas whispered, leaning against the doorframe as he looked down upon you.

Sharply, you raised your curled chest and rolled your shoulders back. As you tried to sniffle your nostrils clear, you petted your damp cheeks with your sleeve. The King often knew how you sneak up on you at the worst possible times. He was a master at lingering in the shadows. For you believed he was born in the darkness hole of this world.

“I wish for you to sleep in my chambers tonight, the bed feels awfully cold this evening” Thomas ordered blankly with a nod, his arms crossed over his broad chest, the top few buttons undone.

It was common for Thomas to command you to warm his bed, his whores didn’t have the same warmth or comfort which you provided. But usually he had a guard or maid summon you, this was a first.

“Yes my King” you nodded your head quickly and hurried over to him, anxious that if you were any slower he’d shout at you.

The short walk down the hall was accompanied with silence. You trailed behind him like a squire as he strided to his chambers. When you entered his chambers and the heavy wooden door slammed shut, you undressed yourself completely. Awkwardly, you stood by the door with your head down, waiting for his wishes.

Thomas looked back to you as he approached his goblet, full of rich red wine. Even though he still reeked of sex, Thomas’ hungry eyes made his mouth water, mind eager of eating you all up. With each day passing, his whore’s feared that he’d soon forget about them. For the King never complimented them anymore, or seemed rather interested in their company.

“Go on, warm my bed” Tommy ordered, gesturing his hand towards the bed before he took a large swig of wine.

Quickly, your body disappeared under the heavy layers, your body propped on your side as you watched him. Thomas took his time finishing the goblet, his eyes analyzing your face. Admiring the purple bruise on your left eye that seemed to grow darker by the minute.

The goblet clanked down and Thomas slowly undressed himself, his blue eyes not leaving you once. After he blew out the last source of light except the fireplace, he crawled underneath the sheets like a predator teasing its prey. As he slithered up closely to you, the smell of wine lingered up your nostrils. His hand touched your bruised eye and you whimpered, flinching at the contact. Thomas kissed you gently, but sighed when you didn’t reciprocate the kiss.

“You’re upset with me” Thomas stated quietly, but his tone lacked proper care.

“No my King” you lied awfully.

“Do not lie to your King” Thomas hissed lightly, pressing his front to yours as his hand felt your curves underneath the sheets. You took a heavy breath in.

“My emotions mean nothing, my only concern is your health” you answered timidly, looking down as you felt his hands play with the skin of your stomach.

“They do not mean nothing to me…” Thomas sighed, rubbing the side of your heads together. “You’re hurt by what I did to you today, correct?” Thomas inquired through a whisper.

You swallowed down your fear. “Yes, my King” you admitted, whimpering slightly.

“You shall call me Thomas tonight” Thomas demanded softly.

“Yes, Thomas” you corrected yourself.

“My little mouse…” Thomas chaffed, squeezing the skin on your hips.

Earlier today, Thomas’ brother, Arthur made a drunken acclaim to the King. One that demanded a public performance on the King’s behalf. A bet that Thomas would have no shame in reframing from. Arthur made an allegation that Thomas was unable to make you orgasm, that’s why you were still so cowering and shy. He was yet to unleash the creature inside of you.

With a snap of his fingers, you were commanded to bend over the wooden table. The very table that all of Thomas’ advisors sat upon. For an everlasting ten minutes, you kept your eyes squeezed shut as Thomas took you from behind. Every peep you took, an image of filthy drooling mouths flashed.

As you cried out in a painful ecstasy, all of the men cheered the King’s name. The shame weighed heavy on your shoulders as you slowly pushed your chest up. Then, when Thomas attempted to pull you in for a kiss, you made the mistake of shoving him away, your mind fueled with disgust, anger and humiliation. The bruised eye you have now was the reactive punishment of embarrassing the King.

Swiftly, he shoved you back over the table and flipped your dress up, you squirmed underneath him, but he twisted your arms around you back as he took you for a second time. That time however, he demanded that you begged mercy to finish. When you were crying, almost screaming for release, he finally allowed it. Afterwards, he yanked you up from the table and shoved you towards the door, commanding a guard to escort you back to your chambers.

“I am sorry, my love. It was not my wish to humiliate or shame you” Thomas apologized quietly, his fingers brushed over your bruised eye. “I did what I had to do. I could not back down from a false claim, I am the King!” Thomas’ voice raised, you flinched in response. He sighed at your reaction. “You must be grateful, my love! Men with lower titles would treat their wives far more cruelly for such an act of disobedience, for a lesser act even! I only had to show my strength in front of my advisors. But you my Queen, I try to rekindle our companionship on behalf of both of our mistakes” Thomas exhaled, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Thank you Thomas” you whispered.

“You know that I did not intend to hurt your timid emotions, yes?” Thomas murmured, one hand caressing your rear whilst the other squeezed your breasts.

“Of course Thomas” you sighed, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His stiff body relaxed at your action.

“It was harmless, no man would dare to touch you! I merely wanted to make them envious of the perfect Queen who is mine…” Thomas gloated, his erection poking against thigh.

But his words were not powered by care of you, but rather possession. His obsession with you was very similar to love at first sight, but with every passing day, his fixation grew like the roots of a thorn bush. It was true, no man would ever dare to touch what he wanted. The only reason he kept your dress on earlier was from jealousy. The thought of another man seeing your naked state attacked his ego. Your body was for his eyes only.

“You’re weak, just like your father” Thomas joked with a light chuckle. “But also modest, I can only predict to be from your mother” he continued on, hands worshiping your breasts, his slender fingers pinching your nipple.

His mouth lowered to your chest, his sinister tongue slithered over your hardened nipple. You moaned out lightly, goosebumps spiking over your skin. You whined when his fingers brushed over your swollen cunt.

“Did I hurt you down there?” Thomas asked, face raised, eyebrow cocked. You whimpered as you quickly nodded your head. “I apologize for that, my love… I must care for you better. Any day shall we be blessed with the signs of you bearing my heir” Thomas acknowledged, caressing your stomach again, his head resting on your tits.

How were you supposed to stay angered by him? After all, he was the King and you were blessed with being his wife, his Queen. King Thomas chose you, you must remind yourself of that in these moments. He could have easily casted a more foul destiny on you. This was the best possible outcome for yourself.

His lips brushed over yours. Shyly, you purse your lips together against his. Thomas hummed, suckling at your lower lip. Your arms extended out and wrapped around his firm back.

It was so difficult with him. One minute you were terrified to be within arm's distance of him, the next you craved to feel his graceful touch. The King could be such a gentle lover at times. You’d be a fool to avoid those opportunities for comfort and warmth.

“Who do you belong to?” Thomas whispered into your ear.

“You Thomas” you breathed.

“Who am I?” Thomas asked, his fingers rolled over your clit.

“My King” you moaned.

“Go on” he urged, pressing harder against your sensitive bean.

“My husband” you smiled. Thomas hummed, rubbing the sides of your faces again. “My love” you continued, your emotions and sensations pushing your mind into a blissful dazed cloud.

“Yes, I am he, your thoughtful master” Thomas stated proudly, lightly humping his erection against you. You murmured out, laying heavy on the bed. “You must be exhausted, yes?” Thomas assumed.

“Yes Thomas” you answered.

“Let’s lay then…” Thomas suggested.

Easily, he flipped your body around and pressed himself against you, his head rested in the crook of your neck. Thomas caressed your stomach, his lips pecking at the skin on your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, his erection pressing against your ass.

“Let me keep us warm, eh?” Thomas smirked as he lined up his tip to your entrance. Your sweet painful moans were music to his ears, but gradually you adjusted to his size.

“Yes Thomas” you murmured out. Gently, he buried his erection into your soft walls, sighing out in relief as he kissed your cheek.

“Sleep my love, for tomorrow I am all yours…” Thomas promised through a whisper.

You hummed in response and quickly dozed off. Thomas smirked, gently pumping himself into you as he didn’t want to awaken his Queen.

[justrainandcoffee]

Coffee shop

It was raining and both of them had the same idea of seeking refuge from the rain in that coffee shop. At first, they didn't notice the presence of the other, until their eyes met. And then the smiles appeared. Maybe they arrived there alone, but apparently they were going to leave the coffee shop together.

This is for no one in particular but the Tofie shippers out there 🍁.

Masterlist

[movie-track01]

#PeakyBlinders film will see return of Sophie Rundle, Packy Lee, Ned Dennehy, and Ian Peck

#StephenGraham will also be returning in the film.

[filmesbrazil]

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Tommy Shelby

Pair: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Your parents can no longer afford the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Tommy can't just let that slide.

Warnings: Boot worship?

this may be unfinished, but the whole point of my kinktober is to finish the wips I've had for so long. Enjoy and lmk if you want more.

Shelves of assorted pill bottles and prescriptions sat behind you. Across the counter, an older woman counted her coins for an extra canister of film and finally slid the sum over to you. Only a few other patrons wandered around the pharmacy. While it was your parent’s business, you found yourself running it more often than they did.

“Enjoy your day, ma’am.” You watched the old woman walk out of the store. A tall man held open the door for her to leave. He wore the all-too familiar cap of the Peaky Blinders, along with the winter coat style that many of them shared.

You tried to hide your indifference, and slight fear. You stayed out of the way of those men as much as you could, but anyone in Birmingham had at least one encounter a week with them. The man casually walked up to the counter and his eyes met yours. Arthur Shelby, not the worst person to see, but certainly not the best. 

“Mornin’ Darling. Are your parents here?” He wanted to be somewhat charming and intimidating, which definitely worked in his favor. Maybe if you weren’t aware of who he was and his reputation, you wouldn’t feel a familiar chill down your spine. 

You shook your head. “M’sorry, Sir. They went out to the next town over. Is everything okay?” A part of you knew that something was wrong. The Peaky Blinders only came around when it was time to collect their monthly protection fees from every local business. For all that you knew, your parents had never missed a payment. 

He leaned over the counter to get closer to you. “We haven’t received your payment. You do realize if you don’t pay, we can’t promise what’ll happen to this quaint little pharmacy.”

“My dad handles the payments. I didn’t know we were behind.” Business had been extremely slow lately. You could only assume that your parents were out of town to try and get the money they owed to the gang. “Could you give us until the end of the week? At least until they get back? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, you know we’re good on our word.”

Arthur thought for a moment, hopefully considering your words. “Two days. That’s all I can give you.”

You smiled. “Thank you. You’ll get the money and with interest.”

He nodded towards you and put his hat back on his head. “I know you will. You’re a good girl, yeah?” He walked out of the store, leaving an invisible cloud of something menacing in his wake. 

You watched him leave. You’d never really had a direct encounter with one of them before. There was a sense of fear mixed with something you couldn’t really put your finger on. 

~~

You shouldn’t have made promises that you weren’t confident that you could keep. Your parents returned and you thoroughly explained the situation and deal you made with Arthur. They told you that they would take care of it. That you shouldn’t be speaking with any of those men. They made whores out of innocent girls like you. 

By the next Wednesday, you assumed that this whole issue was dealt with and over. You were unboxing new shipments behind the counter and organizing the shelves when your theory was proven extremely wrong. Your parents were fixing the display at the front of the door. They noticed the group of Peaky Blinders before you did.

The front door opened, the bell signaling a new customer. If their angry stances didn’t give who they were away, their hats did. Two of them grabbed your parents and made them face the one with the undercut and a cigarette hanging from his lips. You knew that this was Tommy Shelby, leader of the gang. 

“Y’know we can’t let one person off the hook for a missed payment. Then we won’t be taken seriously, will we?” It was a rhetorical question, everyone knew the answer to that. Your parents keep struggling under the grasp of the men who held them with no success or escape. 

 The customers in the shop quickly fled through the front doors, making sure that they were out of harm's way from the gang and whatever they had planned for your parents. You stayed low to the ground, clutching the box of behind-the-counter medications in front of you.

“Your rates went up. Business isn’t like it used to be. We can’t afford it anymore.” Your father pleaded.

“We’re decent men. We understand the financial burden. We can always take some collateral until business starts booming again.” A new voice, one you remembered to be Arthur's, spoke up. “What about that daughter of yours?”

You perked up at the mention of your existence. “No. She’s out of the question.”

None of the men replied. Suddenly, your father’s grunts of pain followed the sounds of someone hitting him. It kept going. You shut your eyes. Your mother screamed for them to stop.

Ignoring the protests from your own body and brain, you stood up. “Leave him alone!”

Their heads turned to you. It was then that you realized it might’ve been a mistake. “And who might you be, girl? Some kind of hero?” Tommy’s blue eyes pierced into you.

Arthur grinned at the sight of you. “That’s sweet, little Y/n. Their daughter.”

“Y/n, run!” Your father struggled against the men, screaming as loud as he possibly could.

Like a deer in headlights, you stood still. Your brain screamed for you to run, but your body locked into the position you were in. “Y/n, stay.” Tommy commanded you in a mocking way. He almost sauntered over to the counter and let himself through the small gate so that he was right next to you. “Look at that, she knows who she belongs to already.”

“Mr. Shelby, I have money saved up. I can cover the cost. Just please, don’t hurt my parents.” Your voice was slightly over the volume of a whisper. Begging and pleading in front of a man like him was something people near death only got to experience. You hoped it wasn’t at that point.

He clicked his tongue. “I don’t want your money anymore, darling. I need your parents to remember what happens when they cross the Peaky Blinders.” He leaned close to you, enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. It gave you goosebumps. “If you’re good, you might enjoy this a little too much for a punishment.”

His hand trailed to your lower back as he guided you into the storage room. Once he closed the door behind the both of you, the courage to talk returned. “What are you going to do with me?”

He laughed and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke in your direction. “Nothing at all.”

You raised a brow. “Nothing?”

“Don’t sound disappointed, love. I may be a criminal, but I’m no monster.” Another puff of smoke. The stinging scent of tobacco invades your senses. He quirks a brow. “Unless that’s what you want.”

You shook your head, a little hesitant. “Of course not. But…why?”

He stifles a laugh at your apparent eagerness. "Fucking me is a privilege, not a punishment." He blows the smoke away yet again.

Taking a step closer to him, you cock your head to the side in curiosity. "And...I haven't earned that privilege?" You couldn't sound more desperate to jump his bones if you tried. If only your parents heard you. How ashamed they must be.

Maybe it was true about the Shelby men. They didn't even try and had women fawning at their feet for a chance to touch them. Or vice versa. You were no exception to this phenomenon. "No, not yet. If you want me so badly, you must prove yourself."

He dropped the cigarette, put it out with his boot, and it singed the floor. It was as if the idea popped in his head right then. "Grind on my boot. Make yourself come."

You looked down to see his boot, the reflection from a somewhat recent shining making you see your pathetic expression looking back at you.

This was necessary if there was any chance of him touching you at all. You fell to your knees and crawled to sit on his boot. "Eyes up here." He called, making you keep eye contact as you started to slowly grind against his shoe, the friction barely stimulating your clit at this point. You weren't sure if coming was even possible this way.

"That's it, wet by boot. Filthy slut." He carefully lifted the tip of his boot against you, pulling a quiet moan from your lips.

You must've looked silly, grinding your core over his boot while your parents were probably getting beaten just in another room. How could he have such an influence on you?

Still, you ground against him, chasing your high on his boot.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Luca continues in working towards his goal of unraveling Lucy both physically and mentally.

Word Count: 6,066

Notes: This chapter is pretty brutal, but I felt that it was important in order to properly understand Lucy's mental state going forward. But if you need to skip or skim it, that it entirely fine! Please take care of your mental health! Warnings for depictions of torture, blood, suicidal thoughts, use of a slur, sexual assault (but not full blown rape) past gang rape, and references to pregnancy and racism.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 23: The Mercy Seat

Men always hurt women, to punish other men.

It was something that her Aunt Miri had told her once, when Lucy was visiting her mother’s Romani kin where they lived in the mountains. She had been young, barely even a teenager, when Miri had told her that. At the time, she did not understand.

She understood now.

Drip…drip…drip…

She could feel the blood still oozing slowly down her back, falling in droplets to land in the crimson puddle that had steadily grown below her suspended feet. 

Her back felt as though it had been dipped in alcohol and then set ablaze with a flaming match. The skin was so tender, even the simple kiss of cool air against it was agonizing. Without being able to actually see and assess the damage, she could only assume, based on how she’d felt the whip dig into and rip away chunks and layers of skin, that the entire expanse of her back had been slashed to ribbons. If the skin ever got the chance to heal, it would likely be just one mass of pale scars layered on top of one another. 

She’d lost count of how many lashes she’d taken. By the end, she already had been drifting in and out of consciousness. And then Luca had poured something over the entirety of her ruined back, and she’d screamed so loud she thought she might bust her vocal cords, and darkness came to claim in her a great rush. 

When she woke up, she was still dangling by the ceiling, her back burning and her shoulders screaming from having her entire weight hanging from them for hours. 

How long had it been? A few hours? A few days? A week? She couldn’t tell; she’d been teetering in and out of consciousness since the whipping. There was no clock in the room. No windows to tell what time of day it was. No way to know just how much time had passed since Luca had taken her. 

Tommy, where are you?

Tears that she tried furiously to try to blink away pricked at her eyes. He’d come for her. He would. Maybe it hadn’t really been as long as she thought… 

 The last time she had felt so helpless had been that night in the alley, when Matthew,–the man her father had promised her away to–angry over her latest rejection, had cornered her with his friends and gang raped her. And then, after they were done and they thought she was dead, they took her out to an abandoned park and buried her in a shallow grave. A grave that she woke up in, terrified and in agony, and by some miracle managed to dig her way out of.    

Those had easily been some of the worst moments of her life. Haunting and tormenting her constantly. Never letting her entirely, fully be free of them. 

She’d made a promise to herself to never be that powerless and incapable of defending herself ever again. And yet here she was, completely trapped, with no way to escape, unable to do much more than wait and hope that Tommy would come and save her. 

Luca had been by a few times, to pour water down her throat and rake his fingers down the wounds in her back, grinning when she screamed. He fed little bits of bread to her from his fingers, Lucy hating herself even as she gratefully gulped down the tiny morsels offered to help quell the ache of hunger in her stomach. Sometimes he hit her. Once he kicked her in the small of the back before heading out of the room. She’d blacked out from the explosion of pain that action had brought, terrified for a moment he would try to break her back with his boot before the dark swoop of unconsciousness embraced her once more.

But the worst were the words that he spoke. Manipulative, sly hisses in her ear that she knew were not true. And yet it was as if he had crawled inside her ear and lodged himself in her brain, starting to wear away at her, bit by little bit. 

He’s not coming. 

He never loved you.

You’re alone.

Her fingers tightened against the rope, scratching at it uselessly. Hatred and disappointment towards herself for allowing this to happen providing her with a sudden bout of strength. 

But even the tiniest of movements caused pain to slice through her back and shoulders. It almost felt like she was being whipped all over again. 

The lock on the door clicked, and the heavy wood swung open. Briefly, she was treated to a glimpse of the world beyond her hellish cell. All she could see was a short hallway that led to a flight of stairs, and a guard standing at attention by the door. And then Luca stepped in, swinging the thick wood shut behind him and locking it. 

“I brought you some water,” he said, setting down his briefcase on the table in the corner and removing his hat, going to her and raising a glass to her lips. Lucy gulped down the cool liquid, hating herself the entire time for accepting anything from him, even as it helped to quench her parched, aching throat. 

“It’s been a long while, now,” Luca commented once she was done, lowering the glass from her lips and stepping back over to the table, placing it down next to his hat, then shedding his coat to drape it over the back of the chair. “Are you still so certain that he’ll come for you?”

Lucy answered him with a glare. Luca shrugged, unconcerned, snapping open the latches on the briefcase. When he opened it, he angled it in such a way that she could not see what was inside. 

“Did you think that Tommy has even noticed that you’re gone, yet?” he looked up to her with that grin she’d grown to hate. 

Her throat flexed, jaw clenching while she battled to keep all emotion save for contempt off of her face. It was impossible that Tommy hadn’t noticed. The second that she didn’t show up in time for lunch like she’d promised, he would know something was wrong. 

“I know that he knocked up his little whore of a secretary. Maybe he simply doesn’t have much need for you, anymore.” Luca continued on. Lucy felt a lump wedge its way into her throat. “Maybe I’m doing him a favor by getting rid of you,” he chuckled. Lucy tried not to let his words sink into her mind and take root there, but it was already too late. He was already deep inside her head. Tears once again started to well in her eyes.  

It felt like a violation. Almost like getting raped all over again. He was in her head and she didn’t want him there, rooting around and planting ideas into the depths of her mind that would only serve to hurt her. To torture her even if she did somehow manage to get out of this cell and away from him. 

Luca took a step away from the briefcase, towards her, and Lucy tried to cringe back but couldn’t. He beamed at her obvious discomfort. “Maybe he’s noticed that you’re gone, but doesn’t care at all.”

The tears lingering at her lash line finally started to spill forth, running down her sweaty, tired face in a warm cascade of salty water.

No; Tommy loves me, she tried to argue. But the rest of her exhausted, pain ravaged mind just screamed back, THEN WHERE IS HE!?

Luca’s brow creased in mock concern at the sight of her tears, but his eyes betrayed the elation he felt at managing to get her to crack. Embarrassment and frustration over allowing him to see her break only caused more tears to come, the little sobs in her chest sending shocks of pain up and down her entire torso. 

“Shh…” in a handful of long strides, he was directly in front of her, reaching out to swipe her tears away with his thumb. Lucy jerked her head furiously away from his touch, glowering at him through bleary eyes. Luca just shot her a condescendingly amused expression, brushing away the rest of her tears. “I have something for you,” he said it like a parent would to a child regarding a birthday present. “Wait right there.”

A pit of dread opened up inside her stomach, terror slicing through her like a knife. Tremors at the suggestion of having to experience more pain started to wrack through her entire body. Watching as he made his way back over towards the briefcase, to retrieve whatever new instrument of horrors he planned to use on her next.      

“I know that anything that I do to you can’t be worse than what’s already been done,” Luca was looking her up and down like one would a particularly scrumptious meal. “So, we’re going to try something else. A little…trip down memory lane, so to speak.”

Lucy’s stomach cinched painfully, eyes widening with a thousand possibilities as to what he could mean by that. 

“But first,” he drew from the briefcase a slip of black fabric. “I’m going to blind you. Not literally, though believe me, the thought was tempting,” he strode to stand in front of her, reaching out to stroke the back of his hand down her cheek, ignoring her useless attempts to jerk her face away. “To pluck out those pretty green eyes…put them in a jar to mail to your lover,” he wetted his lips, expression that of a man half aroused. Until he shook his head and the heatedness of his gaze dissipated into only hardened cruelty. “We’ll get to that eventually. But not now. I want you to be able to see my handiwork once I’m done.” Reaching out, he trailed his hands along one of the scars that ran from her collarbone down her chest, disappearing under the rags of the white shirt that barely clung to her body.  

“I gave you something new, with those lashes to your back. Now for something old. My mother told me about the stories of what happened to you in London. I’m going to reopen all of your scars from that night.” That serpentine smile was back, stretching his cheeks grotesquely and shimmering in his eyes. “You will close your eyes behind the blindfold, and relive what it felt like to have your skin carved apart. To be raped over and over again,” his voice dropped in pitch to a menacing growl. Lucy felt as though she were about to puke, heart pounding and chest tightening as she fought to control her breathing around the mounting panic inside her. 

No, no, no, no, please, not again…

“I considered just letting my men have at you for a few hours. But I’m a selfish man.” Luca reached out with one hand, and pressed his palm to the bottom half of her face, tipping her head back. His hand was large enough that it covered her skin from nose to chin easily. Like a muzzle, nearly crushing her cheekbones under his fingertips. Tears she did not even realize she’d allowed to spill forth dripped onto his knuckles. “I want your pain all to myself. I want to look Tommy Shelby in the eye, and tell him about how it was me who destroyed you.” With one last possessive squeeze to her face, he dropped his hand. His smile faded, and for a moment she saw the true man poised behind the grinning mask; a figure of deep, unending rage and hatred. “Let’s begin.”

“N-no–” she tried to twist her face away, but there was nowhere for her to go. Luca curled the slip of black fabric over her eyes. It was rough, almost like sandpaper against her skin, forcing her to close her eyes. The entire world was plunged into darkness, the sound of her panicked breaths seeming to increase in volume. A few strands of her hair were snagged and ripped from her scalp as he roughly knotted the fabric at the back of her head.

Not being able to see him or anticipate his next move only made the terror worse. Her heart was beating fast as a hummingbird's wings against her ribs. In the dark, her other senses were heightened, the damp smell of the room growing more obvious, the ache in her back and shoulders more pronounced. 

When she felt Luca’s hands on her chest, she nearly screamed at the touch alone. To her horror, he plucked away the remains of her shirt and bra, pulling them from her body with one final tear of fabric. The need to cover her bare breasts had her desperately tugging on the restraints holding her arms above her head, momentarily able to ignore the pain in her shoulders. Luca just laughed, hands grasping at her waist to keep her still. 

When his fingers started to fumble with the button on her trousers, she began to sob. 

“Please, please, please, don’t–” she tried to twist and buck him away from her. In the time she’d been dangling there, she’d tensed her core at intermediate moments, pulling her body up when she did. Breathing through the pain in her back that the contracting of muscles caused, trying to take some of the weight off of her shoulders, if even just for a moment. She did that now, attempting to writhe away from Luca’s icy touch. Her legs soon joined the mix as well, trying to kick him away from her. Tears streamed down her cheeks in rivers, wetting the blindfold. Pleas fell from her lips, her pride entirely forgotten in the name of pure, uninhibited panic. 

“Shut up!” he slapped her suddenly across the face, so hard that her teeth rattled in her skull and one of her ears rang. The shock of the sudden action was enough to have her struggles cease for just enough time to allow him to get a firm grip on her. With a vicious movement, he yanked open her trousers and pulled them off along with her knickers, leaving her entirely naked and horrifically exposed.      

The need to cover and hide herself was all consuming, amplifying the terror already coursing through her. She could barely breathe, her chest felt so tight, little wheezes puffing from her lips. 

Maybe she would pass out before he could actually do anything. 

Even the tiniest ghosts of air against her skin was enough to have her flinching, little whimpers sounding in her throat as she braced for the first infliction of pain. 

Her fingers curled against each other and the rope holding them in place. She tried to latch onto that. To focus on the bristles of the rope’s fibers and not what Luca was about to do to her. Certainly not on the memories of the last time she’d felt this exposed and vulnerable. They were swimming up from the well in which she’d tried to drown them, crawling towards her on hands and knees with demented smiles, voices that she still sometimes heard in her nightmares beginning to call out to her. 

“Hm…” Luca hummed, contemplating. She started to cry even harder when his hands smoothed down her body, starting at the sides of her breasts, skimming down her waist to the swell of her hips, rubbing up and down her thighs. “I can see why Tommy likes you so much,” he whispered into her ear, hot breath fanning across the side of her face. 

Without warning, a blade dug into the meat of her outer thigh, perfectly following the path of the scar that ran jaggedly almost down to her knee. Lucy screamed, the blade digging in deeper than she expected, and with her sense of touch more reactive, she swore that she could feel every bit of muscle and skin split apart in its wake.  

In her mind, it was raining. She was crying as they swarmed around her, dragging her into the dark, narrow alleyway where no one would hear or see them. The damp cobblestones were slick and cold when they threw her to the ground. They were laughing, their voices layering on top of one another. 

Luca started to carve into one of the messy scars on her right side, following the gnarly pattern that had been cut into her years before. She vaguely sensed that he was taking care to puncture her just deep enough to make it hurt, to coax her memories closer to the forefront of her mind, but not so deep that he accidentally punctured anything vital. 

The men in the alley had used meager little pocket knives. Not professionally sharpened blades. That was likely the only reason she’d survived the encounter. 

They had torn at and pushed up the skirt of her dress–that was back when she still wore dresses–hands groping greedily at her skin. The others held her down when she tried to squirm away, grips so hard she thought that her bones might crunch under their palms. 

To keep her body from swinging while he sliced into a scar near her bellybutton, Luca placed a palm on her back, and she howled at the press of his fingers against the tender canvas of open wounds that covered her back. 

The percussion of thunder overhead drowned out her screams and pleas for them to stop. Matthew had her first. Ignoring her begs for them to stop, he backhanded her across the face, then seized her cheeks roughly, spitting vile, horrid things into her ear that she squeezed her eyes shut against. As if that would somehow cut off her hearing too. 

Try as she might, she had never been able to entirely banish his voice from her head. 

This is what you get, you stupid girl. This is what you fucking deserve.

Luca’s blade bit into the flesh of her chest. 

You are mine. All mine. Nothing will ever change that.

Lucy sobbed as the tip of the knife scraped along her ribs, following the outline of pale, raised flesh. She would be lucky if her body wasn’t entirely covered in scar tissue once this was over. If it was ever over. 

You will never be free of me. 

When Matthew was done, he let his friends take turns with her, him and the others holding her down, cutting into her with their knives as they pleased. Laughing. Look at how she bleeds, boys. So bright and red. And here I was thinking that all gypsies had dirty blood. 

She could not tell if the way that Luca was touching her was with the genuine purpose to grope, or if he was simply seeking to find the best purchase on her body to keep her still while he carved into her. It didn’t not really matter, she supposed. The result was the same. Her skin felt dirtied from having his hands on her, stomach roiling at once again living through such potent sensations of violation. 

“Please, please, stop…” she somehow managed to get the words out of her hyperventilating lungs. In response, Luca dug the blade in deep to get through a particularly thick scar near her hip, and she screamed, voice straining, as she swore that the blade slipped far enough into her skin to scrape bone. 

No matter how much she cried, screamed, and begged, he did not stop. Not until all of her scars had been carved back open, blood dripping in rivers down her fair skin. When he was done, Luca did not say a word. He just stood, pulled the blindfold roughly off of her face, collected his things, and left her hanging there, her body ever so slightly swinging from side to side from the ropes binding her hands above her head. Sobbing, shaking, bleeding, and lost to her memories. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy stared out the window, watching despondently as the sun set on the third day that Lucy had been missing. By mid-morning tomorrow, it would be seventy-two hours since he’d last seen her. Since she’d smiled at and kissed him before disappearing out the door. 

He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten, despite the plates of biscuits and toast that Polly and Ada had left for him on his desk. He’d smoked more cigarettes than what he normally went through in a week. It felt like his head was about to burst, dread building to an unbearable level with every advancing tick of the clock. 

She was dead. She had to be. No way that Luca would have kept her alive for this long. 

Throat convulsing painfully when he swallowed, he looked away from the treacherous sun.

I don’t want to live without her.

It had been a thought that had started swirling around in his head when they’d officially passed the twenty-four hour mark. And try as he might, he could not push it away.

Amazing, how easy that realization had come. And how quickly he had accepted it. Almost with no thought at all. As if there could never have even been another alternative to consider.  

If Lucy was dead, then he would not be far behind her. 

Charlie would be fine. Better off, probably, with Ada or Polly. Same went for Lizzie and the baby. The rest of them could finally have the peace they had so long pleaded with him for. There was plenty of money to go around for them all, and more incoming, if they decided to keep things running.  

How would he go about it? A blade to the wrists? A noose and a stepstool? A gun to the temple, loaded with a bullet engraved with his own name?

That last one seemed right, for some reason. He could ride out to their spot in the meadow. Under the tree by the lake whose trunk still displayed the scar of their engraved names encircled by a heart.

Yes; if Lucy was dead, so was he. It was as simple as that. After all, he could not live without his heart. And certainly not without half his soul.

Did Luca understand that? Tommy wondered. Did he know that all he had to do to kill Tommy was stop the beating of Lucy’s heart? 

Shaking the thoughts away, he adjusted his fingers around the phone he held up to his ear, wetting his lips and taking a deep breath to try to steady himself as he waited for the person he was calling to pick up the phone on the other end. 

Despite everything, he’d managed to calm down and pull himself together, at least externally. Worry, fear, and about a thousand other emotions still ravaged within him, but the mask of control was back firmly in place. 

His explosion had managed to clear his mind of the paranoia he’d been getting choked by when Lizzie first came in. Once it was over, it actually felt like, for the first time in a few hours, he was able to think somewhat logically again. 

Ada had left him alone briefly to go into the kitchen to check in on Lizzie and Polly, and to get him some tea, pointedly ignoring his request for whiskey instead. When she came back, saucer in hand, it was to fill him in on Lizzie’s story of what had happened when Lucy came to visit her. Even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day, his stomach flipped nauseatingly at the description of Luca slamming Lucy’s head into the doorframe and his men dragging her away.   

But it was a relief to know that Lizzie hadn’t betrayed them. That, at least, was a thought he no longer had to worry about occupying vital space inside his head.

Since then he remained at the betting shop, coordinating with his men to make additional sweeps. Seated by the phone, always answering it on the first ring, listening with a sinking heart to each report that came up empty handed. They’d started questioning people in the area around Lizzie’s house after the first night, slowly widening the search, and still nothing. And with each failure to turn up any leads, all hope of finding her slipped even further from his grasp. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. My girl. My sweet girl. I’m so sorry. I’m trying. I’m doing everything that I can.

He’d gone out with Arthur for a few hours on one of his sweeps, but it only served to make him more frustrated and anxious. The thought that one of the other search parties had found something and called the betting shop while he was out wreaked havoc on his nerves. It made him snappish and even more irritable than he already was. To the point that Arthur demanded he return home because he–in Arthur’s words–‘looked to be about two seconds away from either murder, mutilation, or a nervous breakdown.’ 

There was a slight crackle on the other end of the line, and then, “‘ello?”

“Alfie,” Tommy said, clearing his throat when he heard just how strained his voice still sounded. “I need a favor.”

“I thought that arranging my nephew to fight that scrawny little son of the man with the ridiculous hair was my favor to you, mate,” Alfie started to grumble. “If you’re going to start asking for more–”

“They took Lucy,” Tommy interrupted. Much as he often enjoyed Alfie’s colorful, at times bordering on nonsensical, rants, he did not have time for one right now. 

Shocked silence greeted him from the other end. “They what?”

Tommy nodded, even though Alfie couldn’t see him. “I, uh, I have my men scouring the city here, but I was wondering if you could have some of your boys search around Camden Town in case he decided to take her out of Birmingham.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll have some men sent out.” 

Tommy let out a quiet breath of relief at how easy it was to convince him. Then again, Alfie had always had a soft spot for Lucy. 

“Thank you, Alfie.” There was a soft tap of knuckles against his door. “I have to go. Call me if you find anything, yeah?” he waited for Alfie’s utterance of affirmation and hung up. “Come.”

The door opened slowly, and Lizzie timidly poked her head in. “Can I come in?”

He really would rather she not, but he sighed and beckoned her in, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and lighting it while she sank into the chair in front of him. 

They’d seen very little of each other since his outburst towards her. Outside of his brief excursion out with Arthur, he’d spent the past three days holed up in his office. But he often could hear the hum of Ada, Polly, and Lizzie’s voices outside. Ada told him that he didn’t need to worry; they would take care of everything regarding the shop or the company.

Both Polly and Lizzie were giving him a wide berth, however, and it was almost always Ada who came into his office to ask the occasional question, give a short report, or simply drop off a plate of food that they both knew would go untouched. 

He knew that he really ought to apologize for screaming at Lizzie, much as the words seem to catch in his throat and not want to budge. His eyes strayed to the ugly, slightly faded purple bruises on her throat. 

“Alright, look–”

“It’s fine.” Lizzie cut him off, shaking her head. “You had a right to be suspicious.”

He closed his mouth, considering her carefully. She was so bloody confusing when it came to Lucy. He was beginning to think that he would never entirely understand how she felt towards her. “Are you alright?” he asked finally, because it seemed like the thing he ought to ask, considering how prominent those bruises still were. 

Lizzie nodded, hand fluttering to her throat. “Looks worse than it is. Have you got people looking into the gardener? Ada said that she passed along what I told her and Polly about him.”

“Yes. We got the information you gave us out to all of our men. They’ll be looking for him.”

“He seemed like such a sweet old man when I interviewed him…”

Tommy gave her a look. “You hired him without telling me.”

Something in Lizzie’s eyes sharpened. “I didn’t want my entire staff to all be spies reporting my each and every movement back to you.”

“How many more people have you hired that I don’t know about?”

She leaned back into her chair, lips set in a firm line.

“Fire all of them.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Safety is of the utmost concern. Especially now. Like it or not, you’re a target. Anyone you hire needs to be at minimum background checked by either Lucy or Isiah.”

“Oh, for the love of–”

“Lizzie,” he said, angling his head up, voice stern. “You’re going to be the mother to my child. That means that there will always be a target on your back. I need to keep you both safe.”

“You could do that if you stopped.” Her light eyes were pleading as she leaned forward. “Throw the gun in the canal. Cut free the illegal businesses–”

“You like your new house?” he interrupted, head cocking. A crease appeared between her brows. 

“Of course…”

“How do you think I paid for it, Lizzie?”

She went silent, jaw clenching, giving a tiny shake of her head. Scoffing, Tommy leaned away. 

“I don’t have time to be talking about this right now.”

“Of course not, it’s always about her.”

“You’re damn fucking right it’s ‘always about her’ when she has been kidnapped and might very well be dead!” Ah, well. So much for keeping his cool with her again. Planting his hands flat on the desk, he leaned towards her. “You realize that they’re likely torturing her? Right now. Right as I sit here, talking to you and doing nothing to help her.” His voice cracked a little on the last word, slamming his shaking lips together before he said anything more.  

Lizzie cringed and looked away, slamming her eyes shut. “I didn’t…fuck. I didn’t mean it like that, Tom.”

“Didn’t you?” he spat out, unable to contain the bitterness.

“No,” she looked down at her hands, tracing nonsensical patterns into the wooden armrest. “You’re not doing nothing, Tommy,” she added, after a moment of quiet. “You’re commanding a city-wide search for her. That’s not nothing.”

“It’s not enough.”

She looked back up at him with sad eyes. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. She and I actually had a very good chat before Luca showed up.”

“Is there anything else that you can remember? Any clues or bits of information? Did he say anything that might indicate where they took her?”

“I’ve been wracking my brain. I can’t think of anything else that might be helpful. It all happened so fast.”

He could feel her gaze on him as he rubbed at his eyes to fight back an incoming headache. Weariness and dwindling hope were rampaging inside his mind. It had been so long since Lucy went missing. All the things that Luca could have done to her in that time…

“Tommy, if she’s gone…”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

For a few seconds, it actually seemed like Lizzie might honor his request. “I just thought that then…maybe…you and I–” 

His eyes snapped open, jaw going slack at the pure audacity displayed before him. Fucking hell, she was giving him goddamn whiplash with how quickly she was flipping between two diametrically opposed attitudes. One second, she was acting as though she cared for Lucy. The next, near gleefully trying to feel out how long after Lucy’s death would be appropriate to wait before she tried to shove her way into the space Lucy occupied within his heart. 

“That’s what you want to talk about? We don’t even know if she’s dead yet, and you’re already wondering how long until you can take her place in my life?”

“After the way that you behaved following your first wife’s death, can you really blame me?”

He stared at her, so shocked that she would throw that back in his face that he found himself momentarily without words. “Get out.” 

Lizzie immediately looked apologetic. “Tommy, I’m sorry–”

“I said get out!”

“Tommy, I didn’t–”

“Let me guess, you ‘didn’t mean it?’ That’s what you always fucking say, Lizzie. Right up until you turn around and say the exact same fucking thing again.”

She looked near tears, but stood from the chair and went to the door without a word. Hand on the doorknob, she stopped, turning back to face him.

“I just got battered around too, you know. The baby’s fine, by the way. Glad to know that you care so bloody much.”

He stifled a wince at that, the sharp knife of guilt twisting deeply. With everything else going on, he’d almost forgotten about the baby entirely. 

“Polly offered that I could stay with her until this is all over. I was going to take her up on that, but now I think that I’d rather go back home and be away from the whole lot of you.”

She was going to give him a migraine. Or a fucking stress-induced stroke. 

“I’ll get some of our best men to watch the house.”

Lizzie’s expression had unfocused, eyes wide and truly afraid where they stared at the wall. “He told me that he’d come for me and the baby once you’re all dead.”

 Tommy frowned, and wondered for the first time if part of her recent attempts to wriggle in closer to him were not so much as a result of her trying to push Lucy out to make room for herself, as they were because she was afraid and seeking out security. Gathering up what last little shreds of patience he had remaining, he forced his voice to soften when he spoke to her.  

“You stay here until I can sort out protection for you, all right?”

Her expression changed into one of sheepish gratitude, nodding. “I am sorry. I’m trying, I swear. It’s just so hard.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but there was a sudden bang as the door into the shop flew open, and then he heard Arthur shouting his name. 

Lizzie opened the door and stepped out of the way to let him through to where his older brother was standing, chest heaving and eyes half wild with excitement and bloodlust. 

“We found him. We found the fucking gardener. He was in a pub near the edge of our territory.”

There was a sudden roaring in Tommy’s ears, a rush of hope that he grabbed and clung onto with both hands. “Where is he?”

“Charlie’s yard.” Arthur grinned. “Figured that you’d want to talk to him yourself.”

Tommy nodded. “Right, you stay here with them,” he nodded over to the women in the shop. “Keep our men looking in case they find Lucy before the gardener gives up where they took her. Get ahold of Aberama. Tell him that I want you, him, and Bonnie all ready to move out soon as we know where she is. Then call Finn, Isiah, and Jeremiah. I want them here guarding the shop. Then come join me at the yard.”

“Right,” Arthur moved around him towards the phones. “You think you’ll be able to crack him?”

Tommy didn’t reply, instead just going to pull on his coat. “Come to the yard soon as you can.” 

Opening the door, he stepped out into the cool night air. As he tugged his black leather gloves on, his thumb rubbed across the diagonal scar that still marked his palm. Even all these years later, he could still remember the bite of the blade slicing through his flesh, the warmth of his and Lucy’s blood mixing as they pressed their palms together. 

A blood bond. As sacred–some said even more so–than marriage. 

Just hang on, he thought, closing his eyes, trying to reach out to her through the bond that connected them. Hoping by some miracle that she could hear him. Just hang on, sweetheart. I’m almost there. 

I’m coming for you.

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[mclsquared]

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listen— i have to keep track of my hyper fixations somehow

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You: This sour patch kid would kill a victorian child!

The victorian child, who has been in the Peaky Blinders since the age of six and has already drunk more gin today than you have in a month:

[enisteyjia]

[jokmeysblog]

[normalbrothers]

s03ep05