#the past predicaments of polly

[janeelyakiri]

lil sketch doodle of a scene from PPP

Dust (c) ask-dusttale Polly (c) me

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter Two- First Shot

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December 1914, Birmingham:

As I settled into life within the Shelby household, it became apparent that observing and adapting were my best courses of action. Even though their workforce was currently absent due to the war, the Shelbys were far from ordinary laborers. When Polly and I went out shopping, I noticed passersby respectfully addressing her as "Good morning, Mrs. Grey." I had encountered workers in my grandfather's factory, but they never held such prestige and status. "Mrs. Grey," "Mrs. Shelby," "Miss Shelby" – the Shelby surname wielded an almost magical influence in Birmingham. I was beginning to grasp their line of work. The Shelbys were undoubtedly the same sort of people who had caused my father endless headaches and filled Nurse Claire with terror. Truth be told, when I had a clear understanding of their activities two months ago, I couldn't help but shudder. Gangsters weren't much better than brothels or No. 10 King's Road. It was akin to moving from one perilous situation to another. If my father knew that his little princess had landed in such a predicament, it would break his heart.

But as time passed, my perspective on the past 15 years began to shift. Yes, they were gangsters who earned their living through gambling, extortion, and collecting protection money. However, wasn't that the way of the world? How could they support such a vast family on meager factory wages? They relied on squeezing ordinary people to secure a better life, just as gangsters, politicians, and capitalists did. In essence, nobility was not fundamentally distinct; it boiled down to whether one's actions were legal or not. But who decided what was legal? If the law itself was one-sided and severe, where did justice originate? My noble relatives had either aimed to divide my inheritance due to my parents' demise or had avoided me for the same reason. After I was rebuffed when seeking aid from my aunt and uncle, I disregarded Nurse Claire's objections and ventured north alone. Furthermore, the Shelbys, the gangsters I had tried to avoid in the past, hadn't treated me unkindly. Even without the title of Baroness, I could still enjoy white bread, bacon, and chocolate that factory workers could only dream of.

After work, I'd rest on a comfortable bed by a warm fireplace. While it might not have been on par with my previous accommodations, it was leagues ahead of my recent fugitive lifestyle. All of this was thanks to the Shelbys, particularly Polly. Although she wore the mantle of the family's matriarch and appeared stern, she was not the kind of boss who criticized her employees relentlessly. In fact, she displayed more consideration for her workers than my maternal grandfather or the officials of the East India Company ever did. Beneath her veneer of cold and ruthless efficiency lay a softer, more compassionate core. While she hadn't immediately believed my story, like Ada and Martha, she had at least not sent me back to London, albeit explaining it as not wanting to "waste money on strangers."

Martha, with her oval face, was Finn and Ada's sister-in-law. Apart from her slightly protruding blue eyes, she was rather attractive. With three children to support and one more on the way, Martha was the only member of the family who could appreciate the poetry collection I had purchased with my earnings. She was kind and gentle, and she, along with Bo, regularly attended church services and provided food for the less fortunate in our community. She claimed to have been a pastor's daughter in the past, but her actions contradicted that background. I had encountered pastors before, and none of them resembled Martha. It was evident that she, too, grappled with hardship on the fringes of society.

As time passed, I found myself missing the life of a young lady from when my parents were alive. However, my new existence no longer held the same allure it had when I first escaped, and I refrained from incessantly comparing it to my past. These two months had wrought profound changes in me, challenging nearly every preconceived notion I held. Virtue and vice were not permanent fixtures in this world; no one could lay claim to absolute goodness or wickedness. It was a realm governed by natural selection, survival of the fittest. Initially, I had found this concept to be harsh, but now I recognized it as the unvarnished truth.

I no longer concealed my past. I had come from a privileged background. For the first fifteen years of my life, I had been a sheltered heiress. My sole misfortune was having a contingent of ill-fated relatives. Initially, Polly had tasked me with maintaining the household accounts and teaching the children arithmetic and reading. The Shelby family possessed few books, and the poetry collection I had purchased wasn't suitable for educational purposes. Thus, I had to buy a newspaper each morning during our grocery trips. I learned to read at the breakfast table, gradually absorbing the words.

My father had always read newspapers, both in English and German. Perhaps because my investigation had been thorough, Polly gradually began granting me access to the Shelby family's external accounts. These documents contained receipts related to horse racing, protection money, and dealings with the police station. It wasn't easy for Polly. The war had not ended as swiftly as we had anticipated, and the cost of living was steadily rising. Finn and his three nephews were still quite young. Ada had no desire to engage in the family's "business." Martha was pregnant and exceedingly gentle. This left Polly as the family's sole provider, responsible for the entire household. She had to be tough when dealing with others, ensuring her family's betterment, only to return home and seek solace in her prayer room. She was good to me, and as December approached, I planned a surprise for her on Christmas.

However, what could I possibly offer? As Bo grew more comfortable with me, I found myself assuming additional responsibilities. I had become the Shelby family's accountant, tutor, nanny, and even their cook. Despite the decent life I was leading and the kindness shown to me by the Shelbys, I still felt like an outsider. Perhaps it was because I couldn't master the art of smoking or tolerate the pungent taste of whiskey, or maybe it was because I couldn't casually toss around expletives as freely as the others did.

One day, as I finished my work and wandered the streets lost in thought, I suddenly heard Ada's scream, "How dare you! We're Shelbys!" My heart clenched in anxiety. Despite her upbringing in this environment, Ada retained an underlying romanticism and innocence that even surpassed my own. "Oh my God!" I recalled Martha mentioning the family's intention to confront Liz Stark today. I found the address and knocked on the door with urgency. Upon entering, I was greeted by chaos. "Ada!" I called out, searching for her. Please, let them be safe!

"Diana! Get your filthy hands off!" I hurried upstairs but found myself unable to open the locked door. It was then that the person who had let me in followed me up. He was tall and bald, with sparse black hair on his forehead. Even his touch on my forearm made my stomach turn. "Unlock the door," I demanded,

withdrawing the pistol from my bag and aiming it at his belly. It was a firearm Polly Shelby had loaned me, and I hadn't returned it yet. My hands trembled; it marked my first time pointing a gun at a living being. I feared that his appearance was deceptive, that he possessed greater strength than me, that I wasn't capable enough. I was anxious about getting entangled in a violent confrontation. I worried that my impulsiveness might harm Liz Stark, preventing her from earning a living. All these fears churned within me.

He seemed to notice my apprehension and boldly placed his other hand on my waist. I clenched my teeth, loaded the pistol, and jabbed it into his gut with determination. "Unlock the door for me—now!" He reluctantly acquiesced, fumbling with the key, and I allowed him to depart before rushing into the room.

Inside, I found Ada protecting Martha, while Liz Stark was being held by the hair and struggling. Another man had his back to me, undoing his belt, and turned around when he heard the door open. "Oh! We've got another visitor." He smirked, his mouth tainted by yellow nicotine stains. His lewd words, ones I didn't fully comprehend, made the man holding Stark's hair burst into laughter. "It was you who begged for this…" he muttered.

"Bam!" In a decisive moment, I fired my first shot at a living person, striking the man in the left thigh. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, clutching his injured leg and wailing like a banshee. The stench of blood and urine filled the small, enclosed space, nauseating me. I struggled to suppress the urge to vomit and aimed the gun squarely at the remaining assailant's head, "Release them. Let them go!" After firing the first shot, my hands steadied, and I possessed a firmer grip on the gun. This time, I pointed it directly at him.

"Don't mess with the Shelbys, not even with a woman." I declared firmly. Afterward, when I returned to 6 Waterley Lane, I rushed to the bathroom and, with as much grace as I could muster, promptly emptied my stomach. Gazing into the mirror afterward, I couldn't help but feel a sense of strangeness. The girl with black hair in the reflection looked pale, her mouth smeared with remnants of vomit and dirt. As I raised my hand, she mimicked the motion. I had genuinely transformed.

Martha convinced Ada and me to rest, and I prepared mulled wine for both of us. We huddled together, wrapped in blankets, sipping our drinks in silence by the warm fireplace. I, or perhaps we, were awaiting Polly's return. A gunshot had rung out; a man had been shot in a brothel, nearly disfigured. It was odd that neither Liz Stark nor Polly Shelby had received word of it. Perhaps Polly would dismiss me at the height of the impending storm, perhaps she'd grow infuriated over my use of the Shelby name. Regardless, I needed to explain myself face-to-face.

"Why did you use a gun?" Ada's question broke the silence, interrupting my reverie.

"What?" I hesitated, unable to meet her gaze, fearful that she might perceive me as a ruthless assailant.

"I noticed you often drift into thought... I mean, why did you use a gun?"

"My father taught me to hunt, ma'am, and I know how to use a shotgun." I replied, averting her eyes.

Another uncomfortable silence ensued, eventually broken by Polly Shelby's return.

Upon seeing her in the living room, relief washed over me. Even if she decided to expel me, I wouldn't be left homeless.

"Are you alright?" She checked on Ada before turning to me. I watched as she examined me, patiently waiting for her verdict.

"Go get some rest, Ada."

"Don't blame her, Aunt Polly. It was for me and Juliet that Diana fired." Polly remained silent but gave Ada's shoulder a reassuring pat before pouring herself a glass of wine. Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, I exchanged a reassuring glance with Ada.

"Why did you use a gun?" It seemed everyone was curious about a young woman who could wield a firearm, especially considering my age.

"My father taught me to hunt, ma'am, and I know how to use a shotgun."

"You rarely speak of your past," Polly noted, and I confessed, "But you never asked, ma'am."

Polly smiled, "I wasn't interested in a secretary's past before, but it's different now."

"My name is Diana Elizabeth Turner. My father was Baron Charles Turner, and my mother was Elizabeth Barton. I have an older brother, a younger brother, and a younger sister." I shared this information as Polly's gaze remained fixed on me.

She then put down her cup and embraced me. At that moment, tears welled up, and I allowed myself to cry. I did know how to use a shotgun, but the first time I had threatened someone with a gun, I was terrified. Fear had consumed me, fearing that his appearance concealed great strength, fearing that I wouldn't be effective enough, fearing I would become embroiled in violence, fearing for Liz Stark's safety, fearing Martha and Ada might view me as a merciless demon, and fearing Polly Shelby might expel me from her home or send me back to King's Road.

"Silly girl, go rest." Polly comforted me.

"Madam, are you going to send me away?" I asked, my tears finally subsiding.

Polly seemed to find my question amusing. "Why would I send you away? Because you protected my family?"

"Silly girl, right now, the Shelbys only need to use their guns to show Birmingham that even when the men are away, the Shelbys are untouchable. Besides, you and I are the only ones in this household who can handle a firearm."

Following that day, Polly asked me to address her as "Polly" or, like Ada and the others, as "Aunt Polly." On Christmas Eve, Polly presented me with a gift. She instructed me not to open it until everyone else had retired to their rooms. Inside the box was an elegant lady's pistol.

"The old gun I lent you belonged to Tommy. This one is more suitable for you," Polly explained, her cheeks slightly flushed from wine. "Just remember, don't let the children see it, let alone play with it, unless it's empty."

I held the unloaded pistol in my hands, examining it, and then looked up at Polly, questioning, "Who is Tommy?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Tommy is one of Finn and Ada's nephews, the second brother. All three brothers enlisted in the army. Tommy is a handsome young lad, inheriting his mother's striking blue eyes." Polly remarked, gazing at me. "You bear a striking resemblance to him."

"Really?" I responded, my fingers tracing the contours of the gun, my gaze still locked onto the pistol. Polly's words had left me pensive, and I couldn't find the right words to reply.

The town bell chimed, signaling midnight. I leaned down and planted a kiss on Polly Shelby's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Aunt Polly."

[runnning-outof-time]

To Be Alone | Tommy Shelby x OC | Chapter 24

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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: A brush in with a jail cell sends Tommy and Celia into a fallout, where Celia suggests that he take some time off. The cold weather, his new, rugged look and her heightened hormones causes Celia’s need for Tommy to increase.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations (PG-13 rated)

Word Count: 4116

A/N: when do we think that Tommy’s finally gonna realize Celia’s secret? Hope you enjoy! :)

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

———

Esme and Celia were sitting in the living room of Celia's apartment. Esme was sharing the more personal details of her birth to Celia whilst nursing her baby girl. She had literally given birth two weeks ago and she was already back to normal. Celia hoped that she would be able to bounce back quickly like that. She, on the other hand, was currently working on the baby blanket that she started in the days after she found out she was pregnant, the blanket being about halfway done now.

"So have you decided?" Esme asked then, breaking Celia out of her thoughts.

"Decided on what?" she asked for clarification, feeling a bit embarrassed that she hadn't been listening.

"On whether you're giving birth at home or at the hospital," Esme explained the question she had asked.

"Well I don't really have an opinion on either, but if Tommy has any say, I'm sure he's going to want to be at a hospital," she responded then.

"You think he'd push for a hospital? Even with Polly and how experienced she is?" Esme asked, her eyebrows raised slightly.

Celia shrugged her shoulders then, "I mean I don't know. I wouldn't be opposed to doing it at home." The truth was that she hadn't really put much thought into it yet. She was still in the beginning stages and hadn't even started showing yet. She had plenty of time to think about a birthing plan.

"Speaking of...does Tommy know yet?" Esme asked then, bringing the baby up so that she could burp her.

"About me being pregnant? No. I haven't told him yet, and I'm not sure when I'm going to, being that he's been so invested in business right now," Celia sighed as she spoke.

"You've just gotta spit it out. That's what I did to John," Esme gave some advice.

Before Celia was able to speak, a knock sounded on the door. She mumbled a 'be right back' to Esme, discarding her project as she walked to the door. To her surprise, Inspector Moss was standing on the other side. "Hello, Inspector. How are you today?" Celia asked him with a smile.

"I'm doing just fine, Miss Farraday," the inspector nodded his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the station though," he stated, making Celia's heart drop.

"Wha...what's the matter?" she asked, fumbling over her words slightly. About a million things were running through her head at the moment. None of them were good, and they all involved Tommy.

"We have Tommy Shelby in custody. He's requested that you come get him," he informed her. She felt a bit better knowing that he was still alive, but she was still unhappy that he was currently sitting in a jail cell. Before she could respond, however, Inspector Moss peered over her shoulder to look at Esme. "Esme, we've got John as well."

"Fuck," Esme breathed from where she was on the couch before she stood up, her baby in her arms. "I suppose he wants me to come get him as well. Walk in there with his baby in my arms like his saving grace," she remarked sarcastically, although she didn't seem angered at the inspector.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Moss just dipped his head down, not meeting either of the ladies' eyes.

"Let's get on with it then," Esme piped up, moving past the other two so that she could walk out the door.

"After you," Moss nodded to Celia, who sent him a small smile despite the predicament she was currently in. A sigh quickly followed her expression though, because she knew that they were getting a ride now, but would have to walk back. The women got into the vehicle Inspector Moss was driving, sitting in silence as he drove them to the city's jail.

—

Tommy and John were sitting in the same cell, looking defeated when Esme and Celia stepped into the jail. Inspector Moss walked over to the cell and used his skeleton key to unlock the gate, opening it then. "Alright then, lads. Youse are free to go," he nodded at them both, motioning for them to rise and exit the cell. In unison, both of the men stood and slowly walked out to face their significant others.

"Thanks, Moss," Tommy nodded to him, taking the pack of cigarettes, lighter, and roll of banknotes from the inspector, shoving them into his pockets before he then took his holster and slipped it around his arms. Finally, he grabbed his suit jacket that was hanging on one of the metal hooks and brought it around his shoulders, arms going into their respective sleeves. Celia noticed that he hadn't yet looked her in the eyes, and she wondered if Tommy Shelby had actually been ashamed of his actions.

John, on the other hand, was grinning like a fool as he strode over to Esme, who was sending him a deadly glare as she clutched their child close to her chest. "Can I see her?" he asked her then, reaching his arms out for the baby.

Esme refused, turning herself away from him slightly, "you will not hold her until you've taken a bath and been cleaned of the shit you've been up to," she told him, making Celia's eyes widen slightly. She watched as John's smile fell, his pride surely following it. Ouch.

"Stay on the right side of things from now on, will you men?" Moss then stated, knowing that his words wouldn't be held up.

"Good day, Moss," Tommy all but glanced in his direction, lighting the cigarette that was perched between his lips before he led the group of four out of the jail. Celia sighed, falling in behind him as she tried to think of what to say to him. So far, she had nothing.

"So what did you two do exactly to get yourselves put in jail?" Esme was the one to speak first as they began their walk back to Watery Lane.

"Some prick at the Garrison was runnin' 'is mouth. I figured I had to teach him a lesson," John answered, his chest puffed out slightly with his pride being fully restored.

"And Thomas?" Esme looked to her husband's older brother then. Celia waited on baited breath to hear what he had to say.

"Me brother needed help," he responded nonchalantly, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette like he had not a care in the world.

"Those men were lucky we didn't have my cap on me. Would've taken their eyes if I had the chance," John remarked then, frustration seeping into his words. Like he was angry at himself that he didn't finish the job.

"I didn't see any other men at the jail," Celia finally spoke up, pointing out an observation.

"Coppers had to take them to the hospital," John answered with a proud smile.

"Looked pretty worse for wear when we were done with 'em,” Tommy added, and Celia noticed then that he also was donning a similar grin to the one his brother had.

"You bloody men will never give up the violence," Esme shook her head with a sigh.

"Not when it pays the bills like it does, love," John grinned down at his wife, who sent him a look that was a mixture between anger and disgust. The group slowed as they approached Tommy's house first. "I'll be seeing you soon, Tom," John stated, clapping his brother on the back as the two shared a look. "Thanks for havin' me back back there," he thanked him then.

"Couldn't watch you lose," Tommy grinned, making John go straight-faced for a moment before he too was grinning once more.

"Bye, Celia," Esme then spoke to the woman who was standing next to Tommy. Celia smiled at her, accepting the baby into her arms so that she could give her a cuddle before she turned to look at Tommy. She might have been crazy, but she could've sworn she saw a sort of twinkle in his eye as he looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. Celia then hugged the sleeping baby once more before handing her back to her mother. Esme gave Celia a look that the brunette chose not to comment on before she watched the couple continue down the street to their home.

"You want to come in?" Tommy asked after clearing his throat. Celia turned her attention back to him before she nodded her head. She might as well, since she had done enough walking to make her feet hurt for the day. That was one of the several things that she didn't quite like about her pregnancy so far. It didn't take much to make her fatigued and sore. Tommy took her nonverbal response as his go ahead to open the door for them, shutting it when they were both inside the house. "Drink?" he asked, motioning to the whisky that he was already pouring for himself.

"No thank you," Celia shook her head, making Tommy nod before he brought the glass up to his lips. "So you were jailed for fighting in your own club..." Celia figured she'd come right out and start the conversation they had been dancing around during the walk, "that's one I haven't heard before," she chuckled to herself at the thought of it.

"Couldn't exactly sit there and watch me brother get beaten up, could I?" he responded, still no sense of care in his voice.

"You could have tried to stop it, Thomas. You didn't have to jump in and start fighting yourself," she gave him her two cents on the matter.

"You clearly don't know how this family works then, love," Tommy chuckled, moreso to himself than anything.

"Oh no. I have a pretty good understanding of it. It hurts my brain to think about sometimes," she told him, sighing after she spoke.

"You don't like it, then you can fucking leave," he stated, his tone sounding slightly harsh in nature. Celia could see that he was tense. The adrenaline was probably wearing off, allowing his nerves to seep back in; his thoughts coming along with them.

"Thomas..." Celia trailed off with a sigh, unfazed by what he'd just said. She had heard that line before.

"I can't fucking control what me brother does. He doesn't fucking listen, and he gets himself neck deep into shit like that and then luckily has me or Arthur there to pull him back out," he went on rant then as he sat down on the couch, his elbows rested on his knees as he rubbed his hands over his face. "'S just fucking lucky that Moss was the one to break things up. If Campbell and his toffs had shown up, we'd be recalling a different story," he sighed then, his face going to rest in his hands as he finished speaking.

"You two are ok. That's the only thing that matters," Celia tried to offer some comfort, not even wanting to think about the other scenario he'd just mentioned. Tommy had told her of Major Campbell's escapades here in Birmingham and didn't shy away from including the man's sentiment to see her partner swing for the things he's done. His only downfall was that he hadn't caught him for something feasible enough yet.

"But it's not though, C. It's fucking not. Because I've still got business to do, and thanks to this fucking stunt, I've missed the scheduled appointment that I had to set out for in London that was supposed to be happening later this night," he didn't agree with her statement, lifting his head to speak. Celia saw the stress in his eyes when he did.

She let out a breath as she sat down next to him, hesitantly reaching her arm out to place on his shoulder comfortingly. When he was in the mood, Tommy loved to be touched and loved when Celia had her hands on him. But during times much like this one, Celia found that he liked to be physically left alone. That's why she wasn't sure how he would receive her gesture.

She looked at him with a knowing expression on her face for a few moments before deciding to speak, "but you're here now though, Tom. You didn't jump in your car the first chance you got," she pointed out. That had to mean something, right?

"That's cuz I fucking missed you, love," he stated, laughing slightly despite his current mood. Celia couldn't help but smile at his words. Holding his gaze as he looked into her eyes.

"You need to take a break, Tommy," she told him then, her statement coming out before she had much time to think it through.

He was disagreeing with her within a second, "you know I can't do that."

"No, I know that you don't want to do that. Everyone knows that business and the company would do fine if you gave yourself, say, a week off," she told him, refusing to hear his statement.

Tommy stared at her for a bit, slightly shaking his head as he tried to think up a response that was in opposition to what she had just said. At the very core of it all, she was right. He knew it to be true. He was most certainly able to take a break and spend some time away from the very thing that was causing him so much stress, yet he knew he couldn't. Because that would paint him in a light that he didn't want...write the narrative that Tommy Shelby had time to take off and wasn't solely focused on business. "It's not that easy, C..." he breathed, shaking his head as he dropped it into his hands again.

"Thomas..." she breathed again, making him look up at her once more. He always responded when she used his full name. "You need this," she said then, nodding as she spoke as if to give him a visual cue that he should agree with what she was saying.

They held their stares on each other for a few moments before Tommy lost the contest with a long sigh, his eyes focusing on the wooden floorboards then. "Would you come with me?" he asked her after he had been silent for a few beats.

"Is that even a question that needs asking? Of course I would come with you," Celia responded, her straight face fading to a smile as she squeezed his shoulder as an extra reassurance.

"What if we go into the woods? Camp out in nature," he suggested then, a plan already mapping out in his head.

"Camping?" Celia asked, her eyebrows lifting, as camping was the last thing she expected him to suggest. "You'd want to do that over everything else?" She wasn't opposed to it...just shocked.

"Yeah. It'd take me back to my roots," Tommy nodded firmly, "if you wouldn't want to, I can think of somethin..."

"No, I think I would enjoy camping out in nature," she cut him off before he was able to finish the sentence, "I just didn't expect you to suggest that," she told him the reason behind her questioning of his idea.

"Then it's set. We go out tomorrow? I'll have Johnny Dogs drop us off and pick us up," he set up his plan then, a little bit of light back in his eyes now.

Celia couldn't help but smile as he heard him talk, the hand on his shoulder moving to caress his cheek then. "I'm happy you agreed to this, Tommy," she spoke, her smile only growing.

The right corner of his lips moved upwards into a smile before he turned his head to the right, kissing the palm of her hand before he pulled away from her touch completely. "It was hard not to when you're the one who's doing the convincing," he stated, then reaching over so that he was able to snake his strong arms around her waist, making her shriek as he pulled her over onto his lap. "And you're so damn convincing," he mumbled against her lips before he connected his with them. Celia giggled into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him that much closer to her.

They shared a few more kisses before Celia broke away, brushing her nose against his as she took a deep breath. "This'll be good for you, Thomas," she smiled at him and he sent one back, surprising her once more when he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the stairs, her laughter following them all the way to the bedroom.

——

"Alright then, Tommy. I'll pick you up at this spot two weeks from today," Johnny Dogs stated as he moved around the side of the car where Tommy and Celia were unloading the few things that they would be bringing with them. Celia wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to pack, so she just went along with what Tommy told her to bring.

"Thank you, Johnny Dogs," Tommy nodded to him, Celia sending a smile as her own response.

"Enjoy yourselves," the man smiled to the couple before he moved back around to the driver's side of the car, getting in and driving away then.

"So I guess that's it then," Celia stated as she watched the car drive off into the distance. "We're by ourselves for two weeks."

"Yes, we are," Tommy answered, smiling at her.

"What do we do now?" she questioned then, making Tommy chuckle.

"Just follow me, love," Tommy waved her along and she listened, falling in step with him as he took them further into the woods.

The first order of business was setting up a camp, which Tommy decided to position next to a smaller river that split the forest in half. Celia sat perched on a log as Tommy gathered the things he needed to make a fire. She offered her help, but he refused it. Soon enough, he had a fire going and was sitting next to Celia.

"You did that pretty quick," Celia commented on the efficient nature that Tommy went about setting up camp in.

"Had to start a lot of fires and set up many camps during the war," he stated, flicking the ash of the cigarette he was smoking. Celia felt bad for bringing up those memories. "Me brothers and I also went out to camp a lot when we were younger. We always had these competitions to see who'd get things done quicker," he had a smile on his face as he remembered memories from his past. "We'd even drag Ada out sometimes, but she wasn't much of a fan of all the dirt and whatnot." Celia smiled as she listened to his stories.

Later that evening, Celia learned how to prepare and cook a fish that Tommy happened to catch in the river next to them. The two sat around the fire, eating and talking about whatever came to mind. Celia was brimming with happiness. In the hours that they'd been out here, she'd already seen him calm down significantly. She knew that these next two weeks would do him good and she couldn't wait to see what they held.

——

Cold nights and long walks with no destination in mind. That's what they held. The couple were about a week and a half into their rustic getaway, and were enjoying the time that they spent with each other. Surprisingly, Celia still didn't want to run Tommy up a tree yet, which shocked Tommy greatly. He'd thought by now that she would've had enough of being alone with him, but she didn't. She was actually loving all of this alone time with him.

Another thing she was loving was the stubble that had grown along his jawline. He didn't care enough to bring his razor with him, deciding to let his facial hair grow out. In all of the time that Celia had known Tommy, she not once saw him with facial hair. He was always properly shaven, so seeing this more rugged side of him was driving her over the edge. She had let him know that on many occasions, but he was steadfast in his position that he would not be growing it out when they got back to Small Heath.

Tonight was a night much like any other. The two of them were sitting next to the fire on the blanket that they had been calling their bed for the last several nights. Although it didn't offer nearly as much comfort as her bed at home offered, it sufficed and added to the experience. Tommy was smoking a cigarette and staring at the fire, his knees bent slightly out in front of him. Celia was sitting next to him, cross-legged, and was enjoying the sounds of nature around her while she was hugging Tommy's overcoat closer to her shoulders. He had given it to her when she started to shiver a bit ago, obviously not as accustomed to the colder nights as he was.

"What's going through your head, Tommy?" Celia asked him, sensing that he was in his thoughts.

"Just thinking of how things are getting on in London...about how we'll take the derby from Sabini...the next move after that," he rambled out some of his thoughts. Celia sighed. You could physically take him far from it, but you still weren't going to pull Tommy Shelby completely out of business.

"Will the nature of the business that you're dealing in be different in say...nine months' time?" she decided to ask him then, subtly slipping in her secret yet again. She'd been doing this several times on the trip, but he'd yet to have caught on.

"Of course it will be, love," Tommy nodded, her hint going over his head completely, "I plan to be fully legal soon."

"Well that's comforting to hear," she nodded, taking some sort of solace in his words. They listened to the fire crackling for a few moments then.

"It feels good to be alone with you," Tommy spoke out of nowhere, looking over at her then.

She chuckled slightly at his words, "Tommy, we've been alone before," she pointed out.

"No, truly alone," he clarified.

"Is this where you kill me?" she asked, the teasing smile on her lips making him chuckle.

"I'd never dream of killing you, love," he said then, flicking his cigarette into the fire before he spoke again, "come here," his voice was low and his arms were open, and that was all Celia needed to move into them. "Love you," he mumbled against her lips before he kissed them sweetly. "I know I don't tell you enough, but I love you."

"I love you, Tommy," she smiled at him, repeating the sentiment with the same amount of passion that his words held. They kissed as she began to shiver slightly, although she was too wrapped up in him to worry about it. The stubble on his cheeks was driving her wild, and soon enough she was unbuttoning his button down, unsure if she was being driven by her need for warmth or her need for him. She unbuttoned it from the bottom up, stopping halfway before she grabbed his undershirt and began pulling it out from his trousers. Tommy chuckled against her lips, having an inkling of what she was doing. She wrapped her arms around his bare lower back then in efforts to warm up, but they were a lost cause. "This is hopeless," she mumbled with a sigh.

"You cold, love?" he asked, pulling away as he spoke.

"Very," she nodded her head, a suggestive glint filling her eyes as she came up with a possible solution, "I know of a way we could warm up," she stated, going to play with the buttons of his pants then. These pregnancy hormones weren't messing around.

"You want to fuck right now?" he bluntly asked her, noticing the look she had in her eyes. Any other time, she would've been embarrassed, but she needed him right now.

"Only if you want to," she put the ball in her court, batting her eyelashes though in hopes he'd cave. She never thought that she could be that forward. Maybe spending the better half of a year with Tommy Shelby makes you that way.

"I could never say no to that," he grinned, and that was all she needed to begin her work on unbuttoning his pants, desperate to feel him with nothing between them.

———

Tagged: @mootiemoose @theshelbyclan @alreadybroken-ts @cloudofdisney @stevie75 @kagome1414 @epicwaterlemon @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @woofgocows @joossieisdabomb

[peakyoak]

This Dark Disposition: Chapter 10 - The Pictures

Chapter 10 - The Pictures

Chapter 10 - The Pictures

Monday Evening

While Danielle was working Finn ran into the bar. Upon seeing him, Danielle said “you know you shouldn’t be here, you should be home with Polly.”

“But, Aunt Polly wanted me to give you this,” the boy said, handing her a note. The boy then crawled on top of the bar and reached over the counter, “And, Tommy told me I need to take this with me,” he said as he grabbed the portrait of the King off the wall behind the bar. “See you later, Miss Virtue,” the boy said, climbing down from the bar. 

“Ay, see you later chap,” Danielle replied. 

Immediately following her shift, Danielle went to the Shelby house just like the note had asked her to. 

While she walked, she saw Tommy and a bunch of other men standing in the middle of the street. In the middle of the circle was a large fire, and it looked like the people of Small Heath had made a bonfire using portraits of the King. For a split second, Tommy made eye contact with her and it was clear that she was heading in the direction of his house. 

When she got to the house, Polly met her at the front door, “Please come in, we need your help.” Polly led Danielle up the stairs and past the bedrooms. Danielle couldn’t help but peak into one of the open rooms. She wondered if maybe it was Tommy’s.

“So, am I or not?” Ada asked after Danielle had examined her. 

“Now, although there is no way to be 100% sure without an AZ test, you are displaying all of the common, and even some of the uncommon symptoms of pregnancy,” Polly sat down beside Ada who was still lying on the bed, “And although I have never dealt with pregnancy as a nurse in practice before, because of you know - the great war. The topic was a part of my training, and in my opinion, you are pregnant. Your intuition was correct, Ada”

Ada rolled her head back and sighed with relief, as if she no longer had to hold her secret in. Then she looked at her Aunt Pol, and Pol looked at Danielle, remembering that Danielle had known of Ada’s condition for a week “Thank you for coming, Danielle. If anyone saw us at a physician's home they would know. I trust you will continue to keep this secret.”

“Please don’t tell Tommy,” Ada exclaimed and Danielle wasn’t sure if Ada was speaking to Danielle or to Polly. 

After a few seconds, Danielle realized Ada was speaking to her, “What is going on with your body is none of his concern. What you choose to do about your predicament should be what you do because it was your choice, and not because anyone told you what to do, or threatened anyone else into doing it,” Danielle slipped out of the room to give the women some privacy.

As she walked down the hall, Danielle heard Polly ask, “Who's is it.” 

Ada started crying, “If I tell you, you’ll tell them and they’ll cut him to pieces.”

“Not if he marries you they won’t,” and Danielle walked down the stairs. 

At the bottom of the stairs Tommy sat at the table alone, drink in his hand. Danielle paused on the steps and thought about what had happened that morning. Then she walked out the door without saying a word. 

Tommy stood and followed her out onto the street, “What the hell was that about?” Tommy asked. 

“What the hell was that about this morning,” Danielle shouted back, pivoting on her heel and walking back to meet Tommy face to face. “If you just want to fuck me, and spend time with me just say so,” Danielle said lowering her voice so other’s couldn’t overhear, “But if you have feelings for me-” Tommy cut her off,

“Danny.. I-” he paused and put his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat, “if you want to terminate the contract you are welcome to.”

“I don’t want to terminate the contract, Tommy, if I did I would’ve done it by now. I committed to a month, and I won’t break my commitment”

Tommy took a step back. For a second Danielle swore she saw tears in his eyes. He turned, facing towards the street and away from Danielle. He pulled out a cigarette and ran it across his lips, causing Danielle to roll her eyes. 

“What happened with the inspector today. Did he hurt you?” Tommy asked while he lit his smoke. 

“No, I’m fine,” Danielle said, looking down at the cobblestones. 

Tommy could tell she was holding back, “What happened, Danny?” Something was clearly bugging her.

“He knows that you left the flat this morning,” Danielle rubbed the sore part of her arm where he had held, “And he wants to meet with you on Friday. He knows Arthur is not the one running things.”

Danielle watched him stand there, he exhaled his smoke. Danielle thought Tommy would ask more about what she knew about his business, instead he told her simply, “You can be mad at me if you’d like, but I’m still going to walk you home,” and together the pair made their way down Watery Lane side by side. 

Tuesday Morning

Danielle walked to the gambling den, no doubt it would be busy at this time in the morning. She walked in and saw Ada sitting where Tommy had been sitting the night prior. “Ada, do you want to go to the pictures with me,” Danielle thought it would cheer her up, besides, it was her day off, and probably one of the last days before Ada’s life got flipped upside down.

Ada smiled at her and together the pair headed to the pictures.

Halfway through the movie Tommy walked down the aisle and sat beside Ada. Danielle felt her body tense, she knew what this meant, “Tell me the man’s name, Ada.”

“Rudolf Valentino.”

Tommy stood and left the theater, then a few seconds later the lights turned on and the picture stopped, “Get out! All of you. Go on! Now!” he said as he stormed down the aisle. Danielle stood to leave when Tommy pointed his finger at her and said, “No, not you, sit down.” Tommy stood in front of the girls. First he looked at Danielle; it was as if he knew she had been keeping the secret from him. Then he looked at Ada, “I said tell me his fucking name.”

“Freddie fucking Thorne! Yeah. Your best mate since school. The man who saved your life in France!” she raised her voice, “So go on! Go on. Cut him! Cut him up and chuck him in the cut!”

Tommy stormed out of the theater, “Oye, I’m a Shelby, too, you know! Put our fucking film back on!”

[hb-writes]

The Walk-In Appointment

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara learns to walk a bit later than her twin, but once she does there’s no stopping her from following her big brother around wherever he goes. Set in May 1909.

Characters: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Polly Gray, and Clara Shelby

Warnings: Swearing

Hope you enjoy this little piece since the next chapter isn’t coming yet. This was inspired by the lovely @cecii22me​’s ask and I’m so absolutely softened by the idea of Clara learning to walk and chasing around her ‘Ta’ / ‘TaTa’ as that’s what I’ve decided she’d call Tommy before she could get the whole name out properly.

-----

Ada stood her little sister up on her feet, holding her small hands as she encouraged a bit of walking. Clara humored Ada for a few steps, always did so, but lowered herself to the ground as soon as Ada tried to pull her hands away.

Finn took his first steps a few months before his twin sister, toddling around on the first floor and out into the shop if they left the doors open with little care for his own safety. He’d taken the first steps while walking towards his mother’s outstretched arms, the baby’s smiling face as he moved towards her a bright spot in what had come to be some tiring and difficult days for the woman. 

But five months later, Clara still hadn’t shown an interest. Since their mother’s passing, the baby had become more clingy, more likely to request a sibling’s or her aunt’s arms, searching every adult face around her for that of her missing mother. She’d crawl, when necessary, but more often stayed put, playing quietly by herself while Finn made a mess of things around her. 

Polly told her niece and nephews to not worry about Clara’s lack of steps. One toddling Shelby was more than enough to handle and each of them had walked at different times. Clara was the latest of the six Shelby children though, now three months past her first birthday. 

“Let her be, Ada,” Polly chided as Ada tried to force her younger sister up again, the toddler putting up a great protest and pulling against Ada’s hold as she tried to get back to the ground. 

Ada stopped fighting with Clara, instead pulling the girl up to rest on her skinny hip. “Finny walked ages ago, Clara. Don’t you want to walk?”

“Your sister will walk when she’s ready,” Polly answered. “I can’t imagine why you’re surprised she’s just as stubborn as the rest of you.” 

Ada kissed her sister’s cheek and Clara settled against Ada’s chest for a moment, her little version of a hug.

“You’re not stubborn, are you, lovey? You’re just a sweet little thing.” Ada rubbed her sister’s back. “A sweet little lovey who wants to try walking for sissy one last time.”

Ada set Clara on her feet at the moment Tommy walked through the front door, disturbing the peace of the front room as he let it slam behind him. 

Tommy passed his aunt and sisters without a word on his way to the shop, ignoring the baby’s incessant repeating of his name, a continuous stream of ‘Ta Ta Ta Ta’ growing louder as he disappeared from her view. 

Ada released her sister’s hands to cover her ears, anticipating the unrelenting shriek that had become commonplace when the baby didn’t get what she wanted, but it didn’t come. Clara continued chanting after Tommy, taking her first steps as she shouted after her brother.

Polly glanced up from the paper at Ada’s excited squeal.

“I told you she’d walk when ready,” she offered, setting the paper aside and standing up.

Clara tumbled at the threshold to the shop, falling back on her bottom. Ada stepped forward to help her sister only to be stopped by Polly’s hand on her wrist.

Clara’s face scrunched up as she tugged on the thick curtains using them to stand up and gripping them until she was safely over the threshold. 

Clara’s shouting for Tommy grew louder as she stepped into the shop, her little voice trying to overcome the volume of the scattered conversations taking place. Despite not clearly seeing Tommy, she took no deviations in her route as she headed towards Arthur’s office, the only place she’d ever come in the shop, always carried there on someone’s hip to visit the oldest Shelby brother. 

Tommy caught sight of her steps only because a lull in the noise of the shop caused him to back out of Arthur’s doorway and look around, his sister’s shout perfectly timed to the sudden silence of the room. 

He’d come home annoyed about some decision made about the horses, about to tell Arthur off, but he felt that anger leave him as he registered what was happening, the baby toddling towards him, her fair curls bouncing with each determined step. There was something new in her little gap-toothed smile, something in her serious uttering of the name she’d bestowed upon him months ago, the sound interspersed with her self-satisfied giggles, and it all made Tommy forget what he’d come in for in the first place because it was the most animated he’d seen the baby in months, the closest to happy he’d felt in months.

Arthur, Ada, and Polly were all watching by now, too, an almost foreign feeling which felt decidedly close to bliss swelling in them as Clara reached Tommy’s side. The baby gripped the fabric of her brother’s trousers in her small hands, tugging as she looked up to him.

“Up, Ta, up!”

Tommy leaned down to pull the girl into his arms, kissing her head. “Hello there, Clara girl.” 

“Of course her first steps would be following after you,” Ada said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against one of the tables.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Ada,” Arthur said, rubbing his finger along the baby’s cheek. “I had your first steps. It’s only fair Tommy gets Clara’s.” 

Clara put her palm to Tommy’s cheek, turning him towards her when his eyes moved to follow the conversation of their siblings.

“No, TaTa, no,” she said, her little voice sharp. “No. No. No.”

She grasped Tommy’s hand and swatted it. “No, Ta!”

Ada snorted, giggles escaping her lips as she watched the baby, her brow still furrowed despite appearing to be finished with her chastising.

“You’re in fucking trouble now, Tommy,” Arthur said, chuckling.

The handful of times the twins had picked up something they weren’t supposed to, done some little bit wrong, or put themselves in some unsafe predicament, they’d gotten a little warning tap on the hand. 

“What’s that for, my girl?” Tommy asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

“You’ve been bad, Thomas, ignored her when you came through just now,” Polly answered. “And Arthur, find better words, please. I don’t want the baby repeating that one.” 

Tommy shifted the toddler in his arms. “Is that it, my girl? Ta didn’t say hello so you decided to walk in here to let me have it?” He kissed her head. “I’m very sorry, sweet girl. I should’ve said hello.”

Clara was already cuddling into his chest, giving a hug, her little hands gripping his shirt and Tommy waited, resting his chin on her head and letting her cuddle a bit before placing her on the floor beside him. 

“Alright, you go off to Ada now or she’ll pout the rest of the evening,” Tommy encouraged, wishing he hadn’t yet started the conversation with Arthur. He’d much rather pass the hour before supper with Clara, but he had little choice in it now. 

“C’mon. Show us those big girl steps and I’ll see you for supper.” 

Clara took two steps towards her sister’s outstretched hands, turning back when Tommy stepped into Arthur’s office. 

“Ta!” she said, holding a hand out to him. 

Tommy took a deep breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked down at her.

“TATA!” she yelled, walking back to him. 

“Give me a minute, Arthur,” Tommy said, taking one of Clara’s hands, stooping a bit to one side as she led him from the shop and back to the sitting room with Ada and Polly. Tommy settled her on the floor and played with his sisters for a few moments before standing up. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised. “You stay with Ada.” 

Tommy was grateful for Ada’s distraction, grateful that they didn’t have to suffer a tantrum because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not give in to her on it.

Tommy and Arthur were just settling in to talk when there was a banging at the office door, a firm repetition of knocks.

“Christ, can’t even have a fucking conversation in this place. Get that, Tommy, won’t you?”

Tommy stood up and pulled his brother’s door open, glancing down at the threshold to see their visitor.

“We have a walk-in appointment, Arthur.”

“A what?” Arthur asked, unable to see a thing beyond his desk. 

“A walk-in. Our Clara’s here demanding an audience.” Tommy lifted the girl into his arms.

“Well, best let her in, then,” Arthur answered. “No hope in her staying where’s she’s told now. We really are fucked.” 

“Fuck!” Clara said, the same self-satisfied grin on her face as when she’d walked towards Tommy, her giggles filling the room as Tommy and Arthur both started laughing. 

“I won’t tell Aunt Polly if you don’t,” Arthur said. 

“I don’t think it’s me you have to bargain with to keep the secret, Arthur,” Tommy answered as he settled the giggling girl on his lap.

“Fuck,” Arthur said again, covering his mouth as the three siblings dissolved into laughter once again, Tommy and Arthur finding themselves entirely incapable of returning to their previous discussion with the little girl shouting out her new favorite word every time their laughter subsided.

———

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist.

------

🏷: @midnight-dreams-23 @cecii22me @pollyrepents @mo-onstarrs

[theshelbyclan]

Crowning Glory

Summary: The youngest Shelby hates her hair, but also dislikes strangers touching it. A simple solution is quickly found…

(Gif by @nofuckingfighting​)

A/N Due to the lock-down, everyone seems to be complaining about their hair. I have a passionate hate for going to the hairdresser myself, so I’m good, but it does mean I have incredibly long and annoying hair. That’s how the idea for this little fic popped into my head, enjoy! 

Words: 1379

***

Your hair is the crowning glory of a woman. This is what your aunt Polly had once said, but it meant next to nothing to you. Polly had thick dark hair, always worn in whichever way suited her best. The boys had their practical cuts, hidden easily under their caps. Ada had the most lovely hair, brown and short. Yours was just… too much hair. 

At only seven years old, the bane of your existence was all of this hair. You couldn’t eat without strands ending up in your mouth. You couldn’t swim without choking on your own hair in the water. You couldn’t wash without it taking hours. You couldn’t get dressed in 5 minutes like your brothers could. All because of that hair. And you wanted it off. The problem was, getting your hair cut meant a trip to the lady down the street. Aunt Polly had cut your siblings’ hair in the past, but now that you were all on your way to become respectable, we paid people to get our hair done. Didn’t make any sense at all, you thought, but whatever. The lady down the street was annoying and her house smelled funny. Besides, you didn’t like people touching your hair. No one was allowed, except family. During tea, Finn complained loudly of it too, “Look at this! Look at my fucking potatoes!” “Language!” Aunt Polly shouted at your brother, who was only one year older than you. “It has Y/N’s hair in it, again!” You sighed dramatically, “It wasn’t my fucking idea to grow it out, was it?” John whacked you over the head. “Ow!” you complained, “Why do I get hit for swearing and not Finn?” “Can’t reach Finn,” John joked, “Besides, you can hardly feel it with that mop on your head.” Another exasperated sigh left your lips. Your hair had never been cut, so not only was it long, but it was thick too. However, this didn’t mean you couldn’t feel the smacks aimed at your head. “Why can’t she have it cut, Poll?” Ada asked, observing you slowly. Polly glanced from you to Finn’s potatoes, “Maybe she should. You take her across the street tomorrow, Ada.” “No!” you protested, “I don’t want her touching it!” “Make up your bloody mind, Y/N,” Arthur commented, “Keep the hair or cut the hair.” Polly looked at Arthur sternly, “You know this is where both of them get their mouth from.” “From hairdressers?” John asked innocently. “From you two swearing in front of little kids!” Polly stood up and left the room, beckoning Finn to follow her. Quietly you watched them leave, vaguely wondering where they were going, but mostly occupied with your own predicament. Tommy had finished his meal, because contrary to popular belief, he did eat, and winked at you. Business was all done for the day, which was a minor miracle in itself, so he decided to relax for the evening. “Right, we’re getting it cut tomorrow,” Ada decided, “And there’s no point in arguing. It has to happen one day, now that you’re growing up.” “Can’t I just do it myself?” you tried. Ada smirked at you, “You? I’ve seen what you do with scissors on paper, your hair wouldn’t stand a chance!” But seeing you were getting upset, she added, “You’ll look beautiful, don’t worry.” After Ada had left the table as well, you pouted some more in your seat. “Chin up, sweetheart,” Arthur could never bear to see you sad, “Can’t be that bad, can it?” “It is!” you grumbled, “That lady always tries to talk to me and I don’t want to talk to her. Besides, it’s my head, right? I should be able to decide who gets to touch it.” Arthur looked at John, “Kid’s got a point.” “How about we do it?” John suggested, lips curling upwards. He looked at Tommy, who had hardly spoken, but was still sitting at the table smoking his cigarette. “Yes!” you yelled out, “Please do it, John! Can he, Tommy?” “Women and their hair,” Tommy commented in a low voice, “I’m not getting involved.” Excitedly, you jumped up in search of the large kitchen scissors. “I’m not sure if this is such a good idea, John-boy…” Arthur followed your movements with suspicious eyes. “Come on, Arthur, help our baby sister out!” John had jumped up as well, “It’s just hair and there needs to be less of it!” Tommy smirked lightly and decided just to let the whole thing play out in front of his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to interfere, so he decided to be entertained. Silently, he poured himself a whiskey and sat back. “Sit down,” John ordered you, “How much do you want off?” “All of it!” “We can’t do that little sister, Poll will have our heads,” Arthur replied, taking hold of a bit of hair. “Well, a lot then.” The two men were circling you now. Clumsily, they tried to get a feel for your hair by lifted bits up and looking at it. John was cutting in the air in preparation and Arthur tried to measure bits using his empty glass as a measuring tape. The whole scene was hilarious to look at and Tommy took it in full of enjoyment.

“Go on boys, make the first cut!” he urged them.

Holding his breath, Arthur held out a strand and John put the scissors in it eagerly. A large tuft of black hair fell down slowly. Needless to say, it was a lot more than half of your hair in length.

“We’ve fucking done it now…” Arthur said softly, looking at the ground.

John laughed gleefully, “Nothing to do now but continue!”

So both brothers went to work, cutting off more and more with each second. You couldn’t be happier. You were finally getting rid of all that hair

and

you were spending time with your brothers. Life was great!

Smiling openly now, Tommy commented, “You look stunning, sweetheart,” and you beamed up at him, “Just wait ‘till Aunt Polly sees you.” Luckily, you were too young to recognise sarcasm just yet.

Left and right of you, hair was falling down. Your head was feeling lighter already. All of you were laughing and joking around and whatever was going on in the world, you were having a light and happy moment in that little kitchen, as a family.

That is, until Ada came back in. Everyone fell silent and John stopped cutting with scissors floating mid-air. Stunned she looked at the mess of hair scattered around the kitchen, “For fucks sake, John…”

John looked down, seemingly embarrassed, but actually trying to hide his own giggling.

Arthur immediately stepped back and lifted up his hands, somehow trying to convince her of his innocence, “She was sad, Ada, you know I can’t bear it when she’s sad.”

Ada looked at Tommy, who appeared to watching a film in complete leisure. Returning her look, he said, “Don’t look at me, Ada. This is what happens when brothers take care of hair, when actually sisters should.”

So the older sister took another look at the younger sister, and you had no idea how to react to any of this. You didn’t expect people to get this mad. After all, it was just hair. In full defeat, Ada retreated, muttering to herself, “Five minutes, I was gone for five fucking minutes…”

You began to get nervous now, biting your lip a little as a sign of anxiety. So Arthur continued snipping at the ends just a little more, just to make the whole thing a bit more symmetrical. John burst out laughing in earnest now. But you really couldn’t help but join in when Tommy started laughing as well. It appeared all was well again.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently.

“Best work I ever did, if I do say so myself,” John grinned.

Arthur nodded, “It’s not bad, not bad at all.”

And Tommy raised his glass at you in salute, “Who needs a hairdresser when you have two mad fuckers of brothers to help out, eh? Here’s to the best looking girl in the whole of Birmingham!”

And you thought: Aunt Polly is going to be so proud when she comes back!

***

Masterlist

[littlefreya]

Discreet

Summary: It might kill him if he touches her, but one touch of hers is worth a thousand deaths.

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Virgin OFC

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sexual intercourse, deflowering, slight fluff and angst.  

A/N: Dedicated to @jolly-polly who basically prompted this idea to me. 💖  I find it quite odd that Charles Brandon was what got me into Henry from the first place yet it’s only the second story I write about him.

Anyway just want to clarify, OFC is not underage, only slightly younger than Charles. 

Thanks my amazing @agniavateira for being the best beta ever and for the amazing @fivequartersoftheorange​ for the beautiful cover art.

Title: Discreet

The royal halls were a poorly-lit labyrinth. Sneaking through the narrow corridors, Charles hoped to lose the king who was more than agitating for the last couple of weeks. It was either politics or women; Charles grew tired of hearing about both matters, especially on the Boleyn girl. The king was so infatuated with her, unable to see through her veil of wickedness.

But certainly, contradicting the king’s opinion was never an option. 

The young duke looked over his shoulder to check if someone was behind him when something soft bumped into his chest. With one swift scuffle, he was on the floor, hearing a high-pitched yelp. 

Rubbing his back while leaning forward, he saw a bundle of fabrics softly fluttering to the ground as the woman in front of him attempted to sit up. He moved to his knees and reached a hand, fishing an elbow from the mountain of silks. A set of familiar hazel eyes peered back at him as he pulled her up. 

Of course, it had to be her.  

Coveting, the king’s niece was never an option either. 

“Lady Emily,” he greeted, feeling a sudden relief. Seeing her was the highlight of his day. The young flower, always a breath of fresh air, like a gentle mountain chill. 

“Your Grace,” she answered, allowing him to help her stand. Her delicious bosom sunk into her cleavage with slight nervousness. Brandon had this effect on every lady at court, and some of the men, too. His eyes were like precious blue stones, and those lips looked like they gift the sweetest kisses. Though she was young, she wasn’t naive. She overheard the maids; Charles had a unique reputation.  

Yet her heart still fluttered the moment their gazes met; it always did when he entered the room and bowed to her, gazing as if she was the most beautiful jewel in the king’s crown.

“I was wondering where you were this morning.” He remarked, his fingers still enclosed around her small elbow.  

She gave a little awkward smile in return and glanced around to see if anyone was approaching. “Hiding.”

“From me?” Charles prodded and offered a confused grin, exposing two sharp fangs. He wondered if she knew how much he yearned to see her, how his day was never complete until that moment when she appeared in his sight, even if it was brief. Some days he even sought for her, sneaking past her guards just to get a chaste glimpse.   

Emily didn’t pull her hand from him, even though she felt his thumb brush over the back of her arm. A shiver rippled through her skin. 

“From my uncle, silly,” she answered boldly.

A Cheshire grin painted Charles’s face as he finally released her elbow and moved to dust his attire. “Seems like we’re at the same predicament.” 

“Oh?” she exclaimed. Something in her expression suddenly changed, shifting from grace to gloom. “Does he speak of marrying you off as well?” 

Charles felt his heart clench. The beautiful crystal blue of his eyes nearly shatters at the thought of Lady Emily being given away to an unworthy pursuer, just to benefit politics. 

“No,” he replied, low and broken. His mind fell absent as he reached out his hand to caress her cheek. Touching her was a crime, to which the punishment would have been his hand. But as she tilted her head and leaned into his touch for more, he mused that she was worth losing a limb for.  

“My lady, I won’t let that happen.”

She scoffed sadly and shook her head, opening her mouth to say something when heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. Without thinking, she gripped his wrist with one hand and her dress with the other, rushing toward one of the rooms along the hall.

“It’s him,” she whispered frantically and led Charles into the great library. The vast room was empty. Tall bookcases were filled with rare inscriptions while tapestries and maps decorated the walls. In the centre of the room, a large wooden desk stood with a red cushioned chair. Awaiting the king.

Lost within the storm of panic, Emily held Charles’ hand to her chest while her eyes stared at the empty air, trying to listen if the danger was still near. She hardly even noticed how inappropriate the gesture was, her chest heaving against the back of his hand.

And Charles was lost, his mind utterly absent except for the feeling of her heartbeat. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Many women yearned for his touch, throwing themselves at his feet. They were beautiful young ladies, yes; but they weren’t her. 

She was on his mind when he slept and when he woke up; she was on his mind when he was inside another woman. 

Damned be, she belonged to him.

“Lady Emily,” he called out, his fingers closing around hers. His free hand reached to comb through her hair. 

Surprised by his touch, she turned to him, widening her eyes. Was the handsome Duke of Suffolk courting her? 

“What are you doing?”

Charles gazed deeply into her eyes, letting his thumb tug her bottom lip. She did not flinch, yet he could feel her heart skipping at his tender ministrations.

“I won’t let him give you away,” he vowed, his fist between her breasts as they pushed up through her corset. “I want you to be mine.”

There was a war in her mind, a furious battle raging between grief, danger, and passion all at once. Her lips tingle, and she could sense it, wanting for something more.

She wanted to be taken by Brandon, like the maidens she read about in her books. 

Beautiful Charles looked down at her with a look full of desire; his nose bumped into her ever so slightly as he caught a whiff of her sweet scent. He nibbled the plush of his bottom lip and growled as she squeezed his hand in hers.  

“We can’t,” was all she could say before they heard the door creak. 

Horrified, she rushed them behind the thick tapestries, finding the hidden servants’ hallway that made for a safe passage to the cellars below. Emily stood with her back, facing Charles, feeling him as he towered behind her while she peeked through the crack in the door. She wasn’t sure which fear was more substantial: the king who marched heavily into the room, or Charles who leaned closer and closer every second.

Henry sulked, walking around in mindless circles as if waiting for someone. He grunted with annoyance and remained in the room.

The young lady held her hands clasped over her mouth with dread, terrified that the king would just so much as hear her breath. Uncle or not, King Henry would be sure to behead both Charles and her for whatever whispered in the wind between them.

The threat of being caught was far too grave, but Charles found that it only made his passion burn far more vigorous. Her scent was sweet and fruity, like fresh blueberries and spiced wine. Inhaling her in, he wondered if those lips tasted as she smelled. 

Would other parts of her have the same flavour? 

The Duke of Suffolk knew for certain then. He wanted her, more than just another conquest, and there were no reins strong enough to keep him at his stables. Even with Henry marching about at the library, Charles felt his need growing impatient. She was finally in his grasp, alone in a narrow space.

Inching closer, he called her by her name, husky and low. "Em..."

Shushing him quietly, she shook her head with protest, but it didn't stop him from leaning into her form. "My lady," he whispered again, lowering his face closer to her exposed collarbone where his tongue met her skin.

The shudder on her breath exhilarated him. Holding her near, he lavished up her neck languidly while pressing his hard groin at her backside. Charles held her near, his tongue pressing the supple skin of her collar bone and ascending to her neck. He pushed his groin into her ass and slipped a hand down her corset to squeeze at her breast. 

Mindlessly, she ground back, panting as she felt his hardness stroke against her despite the heavy silks between them. The little spot between her thighs felt warm and humid; she felt the need to keep her legs clenched together to take care of the horrible friction that awoke between her thighs.

"We shouldn't," she begged, shaking her head. Her breath hitched as she felt his digit brush over her erect nipple. “I never have…”

Charles lifted the heavy skirts of her dress in response and nibbled at her earlobe. "Just say no, and I'll stop milady."

She gasped at his touch and shook her head. But then, she leaned further into his cock. 

"He'll kill us..." 

"Then I shall die a happy man," Charles whispered in her ear as he began fumbling with his trousers. 

A loud screech made them both jerk with slight alarm. The king took his seat at the large desk, letting out a wet cough as he sat poring over a book. Through curtains of red and gold that hid the wooden door, they could see him scratching at his beard while moving his eyes through the pages.

Charles decided then to claim her mouth with fury, distracting her with a kiss while reaching to pull his cock. She did taste sweet, like a delicacy served in a festive feast. She had also never been kissed before, he could tell by the furious beat of her heart under his grasp.

Hoping that they can remain furtive, he lined himself at her dripping entrance, swallowing her tiny whimpers with an exposition of both chaste and vamping kisses. Unyielding of the craving that consumed him.     

Girthy and hard, his manhood tore through her virginity. Tears immediately sprang from her eyes, and she shook as she felt him pulsating and hot, sliding all the way to nest inside her. As drenched as she was, her body still struggled to take him. The rumours about the duke were correct. He was "gifted", and her body resisted this cumbersome invasion. 

"Charles!" she whispered, feeling her broken innocence trickle down her inner thigh. 

His large hand pressed around her jaw, fingers gripping her mouth while the other held her torso.

"Quietly now, little bird, or you'll get us both beheaded." He warned, hearing the king mutter and cough once more. "I vow to you; it will feel good in a minute."

With the promise on his succulent lips, Charles began to slowly edge out while his fingers covered her mouth to muffle her cries. She was still too taut, unfamiliar of the chaos of sensation that swept through her core. Pain jarred into desperation, a throbbing sequence of tremors that she could only interpret as the need for more.

“God,” she mumbled into his hand, pushing herself back into his chest and then pushing herself forward. Charles saddled her hip with one hand, sinking deeper into her blissful canal and groaning low into her hair. She was warm around his cock, her wet walls coveting for more. 

Even if the king was to march toward them and expose them, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

But they couldn’t hear him anymore. Lost in a musty, carnal dance while hidden behind a thick door, they gasped and shoved together. Body to body, wet and squelching. Emily felt white tendrils of warmth tickling through the course of her groin, the sensation overwhelming. Suddenly she was falling, losing her grip as if in a dream. The thing she sought for imploded within her. 

All she could feel was him, rutting into her, unwrapping her pleasure like a flower blooming.

Charles felt the pull of her body; she came crashing around his shaft with an intensity he never experienced before. Her pleasure dragged his on, and he bit into her shoulder to stop himself from yelling as he sprouted into her womb.

Moments have passed, and yet they remain trembling and sweating in each other’s grasp. Charles’ cock still flinched between her convulsing walls while his head laid pressed on her shoulder as he held her close.

“I won’t…” He began to speak, fighting to find his voice. “He won’t take you now, I’ve claimed you.”

Emily felt sadness fill her heart all too sudden. She knew Charles did nothing more than take her maidenhead. She wasn’t his by any means, if the king was to give her away, she was to be passed on like livestock. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she allowed them to fall down her breasts with sorrow.

Seeing her in this state pierced his heart. Charles reached his hand to cradle her jaw and pulled her back against his chest. He pressed soft little kisses over her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears and comforting her.

“I’ll fight to keep you, I’ll wage war if need be.” He promised and then kissed her mouth tenderly, teasing her soft lips. She kissed back, mewling into his mouth. Charles could feel the air pull from her lungs as excitement blossomed in her chest. He would have taken her again right now if he could, but the little bird was crying silent tears in his arms right now.

Unwillingly, he broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t mind if he lost his head just for asking Henry if he can have Emily’s hand. 

She was worth it. 

She was worth everything. 

_____________________________________________

[janeelyakiri]

Chapter 13 is up~ And with it a proper small hiatus until im done moving \ o /

A special doodle awaits those who read the chapter :3c

[moonbearmeliox]

The Kids

Pairing: BAU Team x Reader; Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: The BAU team get a case to track down an escaped serial killer, but things take a turn for the worst when two members go missing

Warnings: kidnapping, depictions of violence, stabbing, descriptions of torture

A/N: Whoo! I’m glad to have this out, I loved writing this. Criminal Minds have been added to my Request Guidelines, so if you have any Criminal Minds Requests send them. Hope you enjoy.

Request Guidelines

Another day, another case and you once again found yourself sitting in the meeting room. Most of your team was already here but while you waited for the others, the topic of the team’s dynamic came up.

 “Ok, but us as a unit is basically a family and if anyone is the big brother, it’s Morgan.” You said before taking a sip of your coffee.

 “And why’s that?” Morgan asked.

“The amount of times you’ve refused to let me go in before you when we’re busting an unsub just proves you’re the big brother.” You told him

 “But he also likes to kick down doors and he can’t do that if you’re in front of him.” Emily said. Morgan let out a small chuckle.

“While that is the main reason, I also don’t want to see you get hurt.”

 “Awww. You’re proving my point even further that you are in fact the team’s big brother.” You said.

“Alright. What about everyone else?” Morgan said.

“Hotch is the team mom.” You stated

 “Why would you say that.” Hotch said, walking into the meeting room. You almost spit out your coffee, not expecting him to hear that.

“You’re always looking out for us but not in the dad way that Rossi does. You’re also stern when it comes to things we do. We’re basically your kids.” You told him.

 “The only kid I have is my son Jack. But if you’re talking about the dynamic of the team, the kids would be you and Spencer.” Hotch deadpanned, but you swore you saw a hint of a smile as he referred to you and Spencer as kids.

 “C’mon Hotch, me and Spencer are in our 20s. We aren’t kids.”

“(Y/N), you keep a box of juice boxes under your desk.” Hotch said

 “Which Emily steals, but I don’t hear you calling her a kid.”

“We got a new case!” JJ said as she entered the meeting room with the file in hand. You and the team dropped the conversation to give JJ your attention.

 “Two people in West Virginia have been murdered.” JJ said, displaying the image of two dead bodies. “Taryn Klien and Polly Neal. Both were severely tortured before being shot in the head.”

“The police would usually call us in after more than two deaths. Why call us in when there’s only two?” Morgan asked.

 “Because the police think that it’s the work of the serial killer named Mark Sutthers. He escaped from prison last week and this message was left at the crime scene of Polly Neal’s murder.” JJ displayed a picture of Mark Sutthers and the message that was left on the screen.

“Punishment will come to those that put me away.” Reid read the message out loud.

 “After Garcia did some digging she found that Taryn Klien was the judge at his trial and Polly Neal was the prosecutor.”

“He’s doing this for revenge. Going after the people that put him in jail.” Rossi said

“Which means he’s either going to go after the people that were in his jury or the police that made the arrest.” You inquired.

 “Let’s hope it’s the latter. Police can protect themselves better than civilians. If he goes after the police it will give us more time to see who was on his jury and try to warn them but let’s hope we can catch him before he hurts anyone else.” Hotch said

 “Didn’t we help with this case?” Spencer asked.

“We did. So we need to pull everything we have from that case so we can find something that will help us catch Sutthers. Garcia should pull information on everyone in Sutthers’ jury. Morgan and Prentiss I want you to go down to the West Virginia police station and see who was on the Mark Sutthers case. Reid and (L/N), I want you guys to go over everything we have on Sutthers. Me and JJ will check in with local authorities to see if there’s been any sightings of Sutthers.”

It wasn’t until late in the evening when you and Reid decided to call it quits for the night. The two of you had gone over everything about Sutthers and had been able to piece together enough information to have a rough prediction where he’s going to strike next but by then most of the team had already left and you had to wait until tomorrow to present your findings.

 “Hey Reid, can you give me a ride home? My car’s in the shop and the buses stopped running thirty minutes ago.”

“Yea, sure. Your place isn’t that far away from mine.” The two of you packed up your things and made your way to Spencer’s car. 

 “I still can’t comprehend how you can listen to classical music while you drive.” You said once you and Spencer were on the road.

“Today’s music just isn’t my style. Plus with classical music, you can’t get distracted by the lyrics because there are none.” Reid explained.

 “Is that your argument?” You asked. Reid looked over at you.

“Maybe. But I still think classical is-”

 “Reid!” You pointed and Reid turned his attention back to the road to see someone standing directly in the path of his vehicle. Reid couldn’t hit the brakes in time, as the person was struck by the car and rolled a few feet away. The two of you were stunned for a second, making brief eye contact with each other before quickly getting out of the car to help the person.

 “Oh my god. Are you ok?” The two of you ran towards the person. It was a man, who looked to be in his thirties. He was unconscious.

 “(Y/N), there’s a first aid kit in the center console of my car. Can you go grab it? I'm going to call 911.” Reid said. You ran back to the car and dug through the console until you found the white plastic box with the first aid supplies. 

 “Found it!” You said, turning back to the scene at hand. But you found that it wasn’t the man on the ground. It was Reid. You were going to call out to him but there was a sudden electric jolt to your neck before everything went black.

Reid woke up in a dimly lit room, sitting in a chair. His brain not fully awake, Spencer thought that he was having a nightmare, that he's back in the clutches of Tobias Hankel. It wouldn’t be anything new, he had those nightmares a lot. It wasn’t until he tried to move did Reid know that he was not having a nightmare. His hands were restrained behind him. With Spencer's eidetic memory, he remembers everything about his encounter with Hankel, he remembers that his hands were restrained in front of him, not behind. With that realization, Spencer became more alert. 

He had hit a man with his car on his way to drive you home. That’s what he remembers. He told you to grab the first aid kit from his car so he could check how badly he had hit the man and call 911. But the man had a taser, it was unexpected and the man had tased Spencer before he could warn you. You. Did the man take you too?

 “(Y/N)?” He said. He didn’t want to call attention in case the man came to wherever the hell they were but Spencer hoped you were in the same room as him.

“Spencer?” He heard behind him. Reid turned around the best he could and saw you in the same predicament he was.

 “Are you ok?” He asked.

“Yea. Are you?”

 “Yea. That man I hit with my car. He had a taser.”

“And used it to knock us both out.” You said “Now the question is why?”

 “My message should have been obvious.” Spencer and you turned to see a man standing in the doorway, holding a knife. You and Spencer recognized that man. After staring at his picture all day you knew that it was Mark Sutthers.

 “Mark Sutthers.” You said.

“I knew it wouldn’t take long for the FBI to be called in to investigate my murders.” Mark said, walking closer to the two of you. “Let me guess, you thought I was going to go after the police that arrested me?”

You and Spencer didn’t say anything.

 “I thought about that. But I knew that it would lead to my capture too quickly. No, I said punishment will come to those who put me away. And that includes the FBI.” Sutthers squatted down to be eye level and pointed the knife at Reid.

“You, the genius who picked apart the trauma of my life,”He said, before pointing the knife at you, “and you, the forensics analyst who pieced it back together to lead the police and the rest of your team to arrest me and keep me in a cage for three years. Special Agent (Y/N) (L/N) and Doctor Spencer Reid, your punishment will come.”

Hotch should have known that his own team could have been one of Sutther's targets. Spencer had even said that the BAU worked on his case, but Hotch was certain Sutthers was going to go after the police or jury first before he even thought about going after his team. He was wrong and now two members of his team were missing, the only proof that they were alive was printed photos and a note saying “This is your punishment.”

 “Do we have any idea where Sutthers could have taken them?” Morgan asked. Ever since he found out about their abduction, he looked into everything about Sutthers, pressing Garcia for everything she could find. (Y/N) was right about Morgan, he was the big brother and to him (Y/N) and Spencer were like his younger siblings. Knowing that they were being held captive by a serial killer made him distraught and angry.

“Garcia’s been looking into Sutthers records to see if there’s any property that he owns or has owned in the past, but so far she hasn’t found anything.” Prentiss said. This didn’t please the team. From the moment they found out  they haven’t done anything but try to find you and Reid.

"I just got something.” JJ said, rushing into the meeting room. “A local landlord said he rented a small warehouse to a man matching Sutthers description. Garcia just sent us the addresses.”

 Sutthers was true to his word about punishment. You and Reid were tortured the same way the previous victims were. Various cuts and wounds littered your bodies, enough to do damage but not enough to cause you to bleed out. There was one small comfort in the gratuitous toruture the two of you faced. Sutthers had placed you back to back with just enough room for the two of you to squeeze each other's hands as the pain went on.

 “You know…” Sutthers said as he plunged a knife into your chest. You let out a pained scream and clenched Reid’s hand. “This has been fun.”

Sutthers got up, leaving the knife embed in your chest.

 “Torturing people is how you get off. Of course you would have fun.” Reid said. He was doing better than you but even with the absence of a knife in his chest he was in a world of pain.

“Is that what you profiled about me, Doctor? You think I get high off of hearing your screams.” Sutthers stood in front of Reid.

“I think you’re a psychotic monster who’s going to pay for what he’s done.” Reid made direct eye contact with Sutthers, who punched him in the face.

 “You’re right on both accounts.” Sutthers moved over to a table and wiped the blood off his hands. “Like I said, this was fun. But all fun things must come to and end.”

After the blood was wiped off, Sutthers moved to stand in front of you. You mustered all the energy you could to look at him, and wished looks could kill because Sutthers would have dropped dead at the hatred in your eyes.

 “I planned this out the whole time I was in prison. No mistakes or slip ups. This has gone perfectly. Once the two of you are dead, I’ll skip town and wait until the heat dies off before I go after the rest of your team.” Sutthers pulled out a gun from his back pocket and pointed it directly at your forehead. “Hate to ruin such a pretty face.”

"There's one key mistake you made in your plan!" Spencer exclaimed. This piqued Sutthers interest.

 “Really? And what’s that? Everything has been going perfectly. I caught you off guard by not going after the police. It was easy to target the weak links of the BAU. It will take your team too long to find me. Even with the photos I sent.”

"Yes, you caught us off guard by going after the BAU instead of the police like we thought. You struck at reasonable enough time so that you could get a few hours of tourture in before anybody knows we are gone and you went after what you consider the two weak links of the team.” Spencer explained “But there is one key mistake you made.”

 “And what is that?” Sutthers asked.

“You went after the kids.” Hotch placed his gun to Sutthers’ head. “Lower your weapon and get on the ground.”

To say you and Spencer were relieved was an understatement. Your team stood in the entrance way, bar Hotch who was directly behind Sutthers. Their guns were raised and you inferred they would shoot Sutthers if given the chance because they looked pissed.

 “Drop your weapon and get on the ground.” Hotch said calmly. Sutthers was hesitant. He lowered the gun away from your forehead and dropped it. He then slowly began to kneel but suddenly wretched the knife out of your chest and went to take a swipe at Hotch. Your eyes were closed due to the erupt knife pull but you heard six gunshots. Opening your eyes, you saw Sutthers lie dead in front of you. You kicked his head for good measure. He was dead. Without hesitation, the team was on you and Spencer in seconds. Rossi and Morgan went to help Spencer, while Hotch and Emily assisted in uncuffing you.

 “I knew you and the team would come for us.” You told Hotch.

“I wasn’t going to abandon my kids.” He said. You smiled. They got the cuffs off and the team led you and Spencer to the awaiting paramedics so the two of you could be taken to the hospital. Morgan rode with Spencer to make sure he wasn’t given any painkillers while you got Hotch.

 “You were right, you know?” Hotch said.

“About what? You being the team mom?”

 “That we’re a family. Once you and Spencer were taken, the only thing we could focus on was finding you two. The team had the energy you only find when someone hurts your family. And what Sutthers did, he hurt two members of the family.” Hotch explained. You didn’t know if it was because your injuries were catching up to you or Hotch’s words but you felt tears begin to roll down your eyes.

“Are we really your kids?”

 “Of course you guys are.”

[songtoyou]

Tempting Fate - Part Four

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing 

Word Count: 1,285

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

Chapter Summary: Tommy wakes up from his first night with you, alone. This causes tension between the two of you. However, is it all a misunderstanding?

A/N: Tommy Shelby is a stubborn man. That is all I have to say. Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag List:​ @owenniasstars​

Alone. Tommy Shelby woke up alone after his first night with you. It was the first time he had ever woken up alone after being with a woman. He looked around, and your side of the bed made up. Tommy stilled himself to see if you were walking around in another room but met with only silence. Not even a note left for him. It was a weird predicament for Tommy to be in as he was always the first to leave. He tossed the covers aside and got up to grab his clothes to put on. Tommy didn’t know whether to be dismayed or infuriated. He thought last night was a turning point for you both. It also allowed Tommy one of the best night’s sleep he had in a long time.

With his clothes on, Tommy discreetly left your home and made the journey back to his. ‘Walk of shame, Mr. Tommy Shelby. Un-fucking-believable!” Tommy thought to himself.

The more time Tommy walked to his home, the more upset he got. His sour mood was highly noticeable to the other Shelby’s when he lashed out at poor Arthur, who only asked him about the upcoming races.

“What’s got his tallywhacker in a mood?” Arthur asked, perplexed.

When Esme saw that Tommy was out of earshot, she leaned over to Arthur and said, “He and you know who got it on last night.”

“The barmaid? How do you know?” Arthur questioned.

“Because she woke us up at the crack of dawn, banging on the door demanding to talk with my wife,” interrupted John sitting down next to Esme. “Scared us to death. We thought something happened that was more than the lass banging our brother.”

“Well, that is not surprising. Tommy was bound to stake his claim,” replied Arthur. “Why would he be upset, though? I don’t get it?”

“Are you daft, Arthur?” John uttered and explained why Tommy was upset. “He is feeling slighted because he was left alone. He was the last to leave the bed. Tommy is the last one to leave.”

“Your brother is being ridiculous,” Esme interjected, annoyed at the two foolish men next to her. She shared that after calming you down, you planned to talk to Tommy. “It is all a misunderstanding. They will come around. Everything will be fine.”

Everyone quieted when footsteps made their way down the stairs, and there was Tommy in fresh clothing.

“What!” Tommy yelled when his brothers and sister-in-law forgot to avert their eyes.

Esme merely rolled her eyes. She was not scared of the big bad Tommy Shelby. She could go toe-to-toe with him any day of the week.

“Go talk to her! She did not mean to leave you high and dry!” exclaimed Esme and went to counting money and said you were at work.

Tommy scoffed while lighting his cigarette. “I have other more important things to do today, sister dear.”

“Stubborn man!” yelled Esme when Tommy left the betting house.

True to his word, Tommy avoided you for the rest of the day. However, by nightfall, he was in of a drink and company. Making his way to The Garrison, Tommy figured that since you started early in the morning, your shift would be over. Most likely, you would be home by now. He slowly entered the establishment and looked around, no sight of you anywhere. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief and entered inside.

Tommy saw his family off in the corner, being the rowdy and raucous group they always are. He walked to the bar and asked Harry for a whiskey. Taking a sip, Tommy let the alcohol burn his throat. It was one of his favorite feelings, the warmth coating his throat and chest. Unfortunately, Tommy almost choked on his second sip when he saw you emerge from the backroom, hands full of fresh, clean glasses.

“Hi,” you breathed out, setting the glasses down.

“Ms. Young,” Tommy said with no emotion and turned away from you.

Seeing the tension rise, Harry moved away to the other end of the bar to give you privacy.

“Tommy, can we talk, please?” you asked him. “I think we have some things to discuss.”

“There is nothing to discuss,” Tommy claimed and asked for a refill which you obliged.

You breathed in and out to calm your rising frustration with the man. “Tommy…” you began to say, but he left the bar to go sit with his family. You could not believe Tommy was choosing to be so cold.

As tears were about the spring from your eyes, you retreated to the back room once again. You would not give Tommy Shelby the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

Any ounce of progress you thought you made with Tommy was now gone, it seemed. He went to ignoring you. Whenever you stopped by the betting house to see Polly or Esme, and Tommy showed up, he would immediately leave or not acknowledge your presence.

The whole Tommy giving you the silent treatment lasted for two days when you could no longer tolerate his disrespect.

“That is it! You and me outside, now!” you screamed at him one Saturday afternoon at the betting house.

“Ms. Young, this is a place of business. Do not cause a scene while these men and women work,” Tommy responded apathetically, not even bothering to look at you.

That only made you infuriated. You marched right up towards Tommy and grabbed him by the arm to drag him outside. Thankfully, he did not put up a struggle. You could hear echoing sounds of snickers of the folks in the room after you left.

Now in the backyard, clear of anyone, the two of you merely eyed one another. “What is your problem? Why are you so nasty and cold towards me?” you point-blank asked Tommy.

“Why do you care how I treat you? We are nothing to each other. You made that clear a couple of days ago when we…” Tommy spoke but stopped himself when he started to feel vulnerable.

Soon it dawned on you why Tommy was upset. It all became clear, and it only made you adore him more. “Oh my God. Tommy Shelby, you are so precious. Stupid and a fool, but precious.”

You began to walk closer to him and placed your hands around his waist. He didn’t shrug you off; instead, he leaned into you.

“You’re made because you thought I left you high and dry,” you emphasized with a small smile. “I’m sorry. That was never my intent. I was freaking out. I panicked and needed to talk to Esme at that moment.”

“Do you regret…” Tommy began, but you quickly interrupted with a ‘no.’

You shook your head, “I don’t regret my night with you. It was amazing. I shouldn’t have left you alone. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

Tommy appreciated your apology but knew he had to the same. “I’m sorry too. I should not have treated you the way I have these last few days. One thing you must know about me is that I’m an asshole. However, I didn’t feel good about myself with the way I mistreated you. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do that again.”

“Thank you,” you accepted. “I won’t ever leave you alone again.”

A small smile appeared on Tommy’s face. He slowly leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss. These past two days of not talking or touching you were torture for him. He had a taste of you and needed more.

It was at that moment that Tommy would never allow some stupid misunderstanding to get between the two of you ever again.

[fermented-writers-block]

So there’s a lot suggesting that Hop Pop could die in season 3, what if he dies helping everyone free Marcy from whatever possession, brainwashing, or mindcontrol she’s under? Or his death causes everyone to go over the edge and not even think about saving Marcy, causing Marcy to fall deeper into whatever manipulation she’s under. Only for everyone to realize too late that their actions made everything worse.

Hm, I haven't quite heard much about what could be suggesting such from the show, though for me, while it sounds like a perfectly angsty idea on paper, I'm unfortunately not really vibing with the idea that Hop Pop dies as a result of saving Marcy/something to exacerbate the issue.

I mean, outside of highly specific scenarios like Anne tapping fully into her Calamity powers, reviving him from death, and that being a concerning turning point for Anne rather than Marcy - particularly as a springboard for which the Night could manipulate her to potentially think on past tragedies and such like the deaths of Sprig and Polly's parents and maybe even attempt to alter the past, undo the prophecy, and going beyond like I've discussed before for my Unfated Friends theory - I just am not really sure how Hop Pop dying would tie into the central themes and story of the show myself.

To me, conceptually speaking, it's kind of like the theories I've seen for TOH where Eda is behind Lus or that the Good Witch Azura books are written by a Lumity kid from the future. They're fun concepts and twists to think about, but a lot of what I can see of the driving thought behind said theories is that they tend to focus more on the twist itself happening as an idea in of itself rather than how such a twist could fit into the grander scheme of the show/how it would build upon prior themes, writing, and or potential foreshadowing.

Of course, I haven't actually seen much of the arguments and possible evidence for such a twist, so I could very easily be wrong here, but idk, from what I can pick up from this ask, it feels like the reigning theory for Hop Pop dying is for it to happen either for the angst or as a device to make Marcy's predicament worse, and that it doesn't really delve too deeply into what it'd do for either Hop Pop or Marcy's character journeys, and especially not for Anne or Sprig given how big of an impact this severance of Hop Pop's relationship with them would leave.

Now, that said, it is a particularly interesting idea much like the Marcy possession idea that I’m not that adverse to on its own, so tell me, what kind of stuff do you see going for it and how do you reckon it'd fit into the grander picture, build off prior themes to deliver new ones, and or leave a significant impact on Anne/Marcy that connects to the central idea of the girls' friendship?

[peakyoak]

This Dark Disposition: Chapter 30 - Camden Town

Chapter 30 - Camden Town

Three Days Later

As Danielle walked along the cut it surprised her how much Camden Town reminded her of Small Heath. The dirt, grim, and soot all the same. The place even smelled like Birmingham for god sake. The only difference between here and there, Danielle figured, was the Jewish men working along the water’s edge. 

Danielle put her black leather gloves into her pocket and pulled a cigarette out of her navy blue coat. She knew that she probably shouldn't be smoking given her condition, but she figured that if the predicament at hand were to kill her then she’d be damn glad she had one last smoke before it did. As she smoked her coat swayed in the wind as she continued to walk towards the Solomon Aerated Bread Bakery. When she got to the front door she threw her spent cigarette to the side and the swinging front door opened. Danielle was met with a tall, brown haired boy younger than she, “What the bloody hell are you doing here, eh?” The boy asked. 

“Look, I’m here to meet with Mr. Solomon,” Danielle quickly replied while she straightened her back and rolled her shoulders. She knew these people were powerful - more so than Tommy even. She knew they were dangerous. And she knew it was important that she confidently and calmly achieve what she set out here to do. 

“And why do you think Mr. Solomon would like to meet with you? Are you a whore?” The boy asked. 

Danielle adjusted her fur coat as it hung across her shoulders and felt her jaw clench. Damn, she thought, she had picked that up from Tommy. 

The man took a step back “Alright, so not a whore then,” the man said defensively, as if Danielle had made a weapon out of her silence - she learned that from Tommy, too. 

The man started to pat Danielle down when she heard a distinct accent that she couldn’t quite place, “Put her down, Ollie,” Danielle turned to look at the man as he walked down the hall. She noticed he had a unique limp in his step and that was when Danielle realized who he was, “Put her down Ollie, alrigh’, she’s only lil’.” 

Danielle adjusted her coat to ensure it would remain on her shoulders as she turned to look at the man more closely. It surprised her, how wrinkled and disheveled the man’s clothes were. No doubt he was just as wealthy as Tommy, and yet had you not known he was a notorious and ruthless gangster, you may very well pass him on the street without a second thought. Danielle thought it almost comforting in a strange, menacing sort of way.

“You on your own?” the man she presumed to be Alfie said. 

“Seems so.”

“Right well you, Miss are a brave lil’ dove ain’t ya?”

Danielle took a step forward, anxious to get this over with, “A few weeks ago, the organization I represent received this,” Danielle pulled the letter from Camden Town Polly gave her out of her pocket, “I think it's past time we break bread, don’t you Mr. Solomon?”

Alfie shifted on his feet a little bit and then, when Danielle seemed unwavered, he turned to walk back down the hall, “Right then, you want to take a look around my bakery?”

Danielle followed him down the hall past a long line of barrels stacked on top of one another, “Did you know, we bake over 10,000 loaves a week? Can you believe it?” Some bakery this is. 

She watched as the men working in the bakery looked her up and down and then quickly shifted their gazes to the floor when they saw who she was walking with. It was clear to everyone including Danielle that she didn’t belong in a place like this, “We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread, we bake all sorts. Would you like to try some?” Alfie asked as he turned on his heel, “Miss?”

Danielle followed him into a wider room and she saw bottles of room littering the table in front of them “Virtue, Miss Virtue,” Danielle said as she looked him in the eye. She nodded her head slightly.

“You know I’m surprised right,” Alfie said as he poured a glass of white rum and a glass of brown rum “I’m just surprised that not only would the Peaky Blinders send a woman to receive my letter’ right,” he slammed the bottle of brown rum back down on the table when he was done pouring, “but I’m also fuckin’ surprised that not a single one of ‘em has swooped you up like the bunch uh fuckin’ vultures they are aye.”

“I’m employed by Shelby Company Limited, and I do what I have to for the business.”

“Right, that right there is a load of fuckin’ bull shit aye, Miss Virtue. Them sending you to a place like this, to a person like fuckin’ me.” He held out a glass of brown rum. 

Danielle took the glass from his hand, “Who said they sent me?” Remembering her condition she set the glass down without sipping from it. 

When Alfie saw this he shifted on his feet and she was worried until he explained, “Good choice. It’s fuckin’ awful that stuff. That fuckin’ brown stuff is awful but it’s for the workers. Yeah. The white stuff,” Alfie said as he grabbed the glass of white rum and handed it to Danielle, “Now this is for the fuckin’ bosses, and that is wha’ you are, aye? Isn’t it lil’ dove?”

Danielle didn’t answer again, but this time when she set the drink down she watched Alfie walk towards an office, “Come, look,” he said. 

She followed him through the door and sat across the desk from Alfie. She took off her hat and when she did so Alfie saw the ring on her finger, “Right, well, I’ve heard very bad bad things abou’ you Birmingham people. You’re gypsies righ’? What do you do live in a fuckin’ caravan?”

Danielle pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a match from Alfie’s desk, “Not all of us are gypsies, Mr. Solomon.”

“Right, well, I don’t like people who come in ‘ere and fuckin’ lie to me, aye. And that’s what you did, is it not Miss Virtue? I see that ring ‘ere on your finger and now I know that you, lil dove, you’ve fuckin’ lied to me.”

“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons,” Danielle said as she took a drag from the smoke, “And I haven’t lied to you since I walked through that door nor will I until I pass back through it,” she motioned to the front gate. 

She watched as Alfie scratched his beard and leaned forward in his chair, “They say, your man, Tommy, I presume - and you for that fuckin’ matter alrigh’ don’t you go and think that I don’t see those fuckin’ bruises on your face - they say that you lot had your lives saved by policemen. I don’t trust policemen.”

“Mr. Sabini trusts policemen,” Danielle said as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, “That’s why he’s winning the war in London and you’re not.”

“Well lil’ dove, the war ain’t over ‘till it’s over now is it?”

Danielle exhaled her smoke into the air and nodded her head, “I was in France, Mr. Solomons, I know that as good as any of you boys.”

Alfie leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard up and down, “I once carried out my own kind of personal stigmata on an Italian,” Alfie started as he held one hand up in the air, “I pushed his face up against the fuckin’ trench and shoved a six inch nail up his fuckin’ nose and hammered it home with a fuckin’ duckboard. It was fuckin’ biblical.” He laid his hand back down on the table, “So don’t strut in here, all regal like and tell me that I’m losin’ my war to a fuckin’ wop.”

“The war was a long time ago,” Danielle said as she uncrossed her leg, “You need to be realistic.”

“Realistic yeah-” Alfie leaned both hands on his desk and raised his voice, “Realistic? Fuckin’ realistic, see you need to be real fuckin’ careful aye, with what you say next lil’ dove, because you see I like you,” Alfie raised a finger and pointed it at her, “It would be a mighty shame, aye, yeah, a mighty shame, if you’re fucking brains were to end up all over that cabinet, because you see, I don’t like killin’ women. No I don’t like it and I don’t want that weighin’ on my conscious alrigh’, I’ve got fuckin’ shit to do, and it doesn’t involve you or you Birmingham people.”

“So then why did you send the telegram, Mr. Solomon?”

“As a gesture, to say hello, because I’m a fuckin’ gentleman like that aye.”

“I don’t believe you, Alfie,” Danielle said as she took another drag off her cigarette, “We could join forces.”

“No fuck off, now you’ve lost you’re fuckin’ mind lil’ dove. Fuckin’ ridiculous” Danielle saw him reach into the drawer beside his desk. 

“I know you keep a gun in there, I know you need more protection, I know you offer a deal or death,” Danielle leaned in to emphasize her point, “Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses. And he’s closing down premises that buy your rum. Worst of all,” Danielle paused when she heard Alfie grunt, “People don’t trust your protection anymore.”

“Your man fuckin’ shot Kimber aye. Your man did that. I can’t trust you people.”

“We have 100 men, Mr. Solomon, men with weapons who can protect your bookies. Men who are kin to Tommy and soon to be kin to me”

Alfie sat back in his chair and stroked his beard, “Intelligence. Intelligence is a fuckin’ valuable thing and usually it comes far to fuckin’ late lil’ dove.” He quickly pulled his gun out of his drawer and pointed it at her. 

“I understand why it hurts you to see your men excluded from the tracks,” she said as she leaned back in her chair. 

She heard Alfie undo the safety from the gun, “What I do, lil’ dove, it's very simple aye. I shoot you, and this bullet goes bone-mush-bone and into that cabinet there.”

“You know, Mr. Solomon,” Danielle said as she leaned forward to put out her cigarette, “I said not all of us are gypsies because I’m part Jewish.”

“Virtue, right well that don’t sound too Jewish to me.” 

“My mother is Jewish, not my father.”

As he set the gun down on his desk he lowered his voice, “Alright,” he adjusted in his chair once more ”tell me Tommy’s fuckin’ plan then, and before you do, I do have to say that I’ll listen cautiously ‘cause I’m mildly concerned, yeah. Fuckin’ midly concerned ‘bout the fact that if you’re this fuckin’ crazy, then just how crazy is your man, aye?”

Maybe it was because of the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Maybe it was because of the pure shock she experienced having survived her meeting with Solomons. Maybe it was just the fact that she hadn’t had a drink in a week. Regardless, what transpired next occurred quickly and remarkably peacefully as she struck a deal with the king of Camden Town himself. 

When their meeting concluded she stood to shake his hand across the table, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Solomon,” she said as she turned to leave his office.

“Just one more thing lil’ dove,” Danielle stopped in her tracks and listened to him, “You see I know you’re fuckin’ knocked up aye between that ring on you’re precious lil’ finger to when you wouldn’t drink my rum,” Danielle looked over her shoulder to turn her ear towards him, “You tell Tommy-fuckin’-Shelby, that fuckin’ gypsy. You tell ‘em that he’ll be marrying you or he’ll be answerin’ to me.”

[rubysunnday]

Some tommy and Shelby sister angst please?! Like he catches her coming in late or getting into trouble at school? :)

Late

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered as you tried to sneak in through the kitchen window and knocked a vase over with your foot.

“y/n?” Tommy’s booming voice echoed through the house and you sighed heavily, half in the kitchen sink and half outside the window.

“Yeah, Tom?”

Tommy appeared in the kitchen door, the furious expression on his face being replaced by one of utter confusion at your current predicament.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he watched you try to pull your leg through the window without knocking anything else over.

“Failing at sneaking in late,” you replied, swearing loudly as your bag got caught on the window handle, yanking you back.

“No shit,” Tommy muttered, coming forward and helping you climb out of the sink, catching you as your foot got caught on the cutlery draw. “Didn’t want to come in through the front?”

“Forgot my keys, didn’t I,” you replied, straightening your dress with a huff.

“Well, perhaps you should just think a bit more,” Tommy snapped suddenly.

You froze, hand outstretched to shut the window. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning to face him.

“I’m not always going to be here to pick up after you,” Tommy replied, lighting a cigarette.

“No, I know, I didn’t say you had to,” you told him, leaning against the kitchen counter, frowning as he stood in front of you.

“You just never seem to care, y/n,” Tommy continued. “It’s always someone else’s problem. You can never just take ownership for your mistakes!”

You stared at him. “Alright,” you stood up and walked up to him, crossing your arms, “since we’re already halfway there, let’s have this conversation.”

“I can’t always be the one you run to when something goes wrong, y/n, you need to grow up and take some responsibility.”

“Like Finn?”

“Finn’s a different story, he knows what he needs to do.”

“So, because I’m a woman, I get different rules? Is that what you’re saying?”

Tommy ran a hand over his face. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Well, that’s what it sounds like!” You exclaimed loudly, slamming your hand on the table and glaring at your brother. “For fuck’s sake, Tommy! I missed the bus home and forgot my keys, that’s all I did yet you are acting like I’ve fucking murdered someone! Not that you’d care if I did!”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Polly asked, coming in from the betting shop where everyone had assembled for the evening. “All I can hear is the two of you fucking yelling at each other.”

Tommy huffed, turning to face his aunt. “She just needs to learns some responsibility, Polly, that’s all. I won’t always be here to pick up the pieces when she inevitably comes crying.”

“Oh, I won’t be crying, Thomas, trust me,” you scoffed. “Quite frankly, I’d rather die before I come and ask you for help. I’ve managed on my own these past few months, I’m sure I can manage on my own a bit longer.”

“You know what, y/n,” Tommy said, pulling his coat on, “I’m done.” He swung open the front door and slammed it behind him, leaving a cold and tense atmosphere behind him.

“Y/N,” Polly began quietly, stepping forward.

“No, he’s right,” you whispered. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

Polly watched sadly as you ran up the stairs, your bedroom door slamming shut loudly behind you.

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

All Is Fair: Ch. 17 Buying Forgiveness

Tommy has been a shithead, so he tries to buy Lia's forgiveness. Little does he know, she would have totally forgiven him anyway. In the time leading up to Christmas, Lia forms a bond with Charlie and encourages Tommy to do the same.

Tommy was a half-drunk, half-delirious mess. His shambolic footsteps dragged on the stairway, pitching him forward as Lia struggled to keep him from falling. For the previous hour, he’d been whispering what she could only categorize as confession into her hair; at least, that’s what she thought it was, for she could understand very little of it. She had finally convinced him to go back to bed, which led to her current predicament. She wedged her shoulder underneath his arm and coaxed him, “I’ve got you, Tommy, but you have to help me,” and they haltingly made their way to her bedroom.

When they reached their destination, she paused at the door to switch on the light, and in a moment of lucidity, he suddenly rasped, “Don’t... No lights.” He was raw enough to feel shame and to want to hide his face from her.

Once he was on the bed, she helped him out of his jacket, her arm grazing the cold steel of his pistol as she did so. She flinched, then turned her back to drape the heavy garment over the chair. Did Tommy shoot back, or did he just run for cover? she wondered. She stood there trying to collect herself, breathing in and out, pushing those thoughts down. For a fleeting moment, she thought to walk away… just go out into the warm brightness of the hallway and down the stairs to her parlor... leave him to deal with undressing himself, and let him sleep it off. But, just behind her, she heard his shaky breaths and his fumbling hands struggling with leather straps. A rush of almost maternal warmth enveloped her, compelled her to stay, and reminded her that for all his faults she was hopelessly in love with him. When she turned to face him, his glassy eyes apologetically searched for hers as she undid his gun holster. Once freed, his arms went around her. He pressed his face into her belly and he mumbled, “Stay with me, Lia. Don’t leave me.”

Moonlight shone through the window in a muted sliver of luminescence and played off of the silver strands that hid in Tommy’s hair. She brushed it away from his forehead and promised, “I won’t leave you, baby. I won’t ever leave you.”

He was high. The vulnerability he showed her tonight would vanish in the morning, but Lia couldn’t help hoping that Tommy would reveal some small bit of his pain to her once in a while. She couldn’t pretend to understand the brutality and the coldness that overcame him, and the precision with which he could compartmentalize that part of his life. How could he put all of the horrors to one side and just get on with things? But if he could show her that on some level it bothered him, that he had still had a soul to save, she could try to be what he needed.

When she had him stripped down to his undershirt and drawers, she shrugged out of her dress, climbed in beside him, and sank into a deep dreamless sleep.

***

In the days that followed the shooting Tommy and Lia didn’t discuss what had happened. It had been kept out of the papers, so no one outside of Tommy’s immediate circle even knew about the killings or Tommy’s injury. For her part, she was apprehensive about reliving the shock of what had happened to Rodney and the realization that Tommy was much more flawed than she had previously let herself believe. Jenny had tried to tell her about the violence and criminality that were as much a part of him as his pale blue eyes, but until she was faced with the aftermath of the attack and the subsequent murder of the attackers, she hadn’t wanted to believe her.

The Tommy that she fell for was a devilishly charming, handsome man. He told her that he did bad things, but he had an art collection and country estate for God’s sake! She had naively believed him when he said that people didn’t come after him anymore even though it contradicted all evidence. She had never known anyone who needed to carry a gun everywhere, but she had never known a member of Parliament. Maybe all MPs carried guns, she had reasoned. Every warning and every red-flag sailed right past her because she was mesmerized by the warm smell of his skin, the velvet at the nape of his neck, the soft words he breathed into her ear when they were alone.

The little trip to Watery Lane with Polly reminded her that he came from hard beginnings, but it took watching Charlie Strong stitch up a gash from an enemy’s bullet to drive the point home: Once a gangster, always a gangster. Maybe that was what Polly was trying to make her see all along. When she thought back to the way he reacted when she confronted him about Rodney she felt dread. He changed into someone else before her eyes. Polly’s words echoed in her memory, He did have a big heart. Did. Past tense. But then, he was so tender with her afterward. She made herself believe that there was hope for him after all, that Tommy was the paradoxical hard man with a heart. He was ruthless on his climb to the top and would always have a target on his back, so yes, he had to be hard. It was so much an ingrained part of Tommy’s life that he simply accepted it and moved on. She wanted to be like Tommy, and accept it, too.

Consequently, they fell into a comfortable pattern of denial. Nearly every day after it happened, she received a delivery of one kind or another—Flowers one day, a basket of exotic fruits the next, a box of wine and cheese from Harrods, a box of chocolates imported from Switzerland, it went on and on. On the nights he came to stay with her he brought antique volumes of poetry (obviously Ada’s idea) and a diamond bracelet to match the necklace he had already given her. She wanted so much to tell him that he didn’t need to buy her forgiveness, but pointing that out would only draw attention to the subject they were trying to avoid. Instead, she shared her fruits and chocolates with the girls at the library and drew jealous gasps from them as she told about the first edition Shelley that Tommy had given her.

As the holiday season drew closer, Lia finished working out her notice at the Birmingham branch of the library in preparation for her transfer to London. Naturally, she began to spend more time at Arrow House. Charlie was finished with lessons, so he and Lia fell into a pattern of riding, playing games, and baking cookies. At first Tommy had reservations about the growing boy hanging around the kitchen, but then Arthur reminded him of all the winter afternoons that John spent at Polly’s elbow making the Christmas treats. Ultimately, Tommy felt that while he was at work it was nice that someone besides a maid was with Charlie.

He especially enjoyed the greeting he received at the end of a long day. It was often dark when he finally pulled around the fountain and came through the door. Charlie and Lia could hear his car’s approach down the long driveway and had displaced Frances as the ones to meet him at the door. Lia would kiss his cheek and take his coat and hat while Charlie plied him with samples of their latest confections. Dinner at Arrow House was different, as well. Except for the nights that Tommy would be egregiously late, Charlie joined the grownups for dinner. Etiquette and decorum in great houses dictated that children were fed separate from the adults, and Tommy had been too busy to even question it. Lia, however, thought it was strange. She had grown up with family around the dinner table together, and she reckoned that Tommy had as well. Tommy was distant from Charlie in many ways, and she sought to remedy that where she could; having nightly dinner together was a step in the right direction.

One night after dinner, the three of them went into the sitting room for Charlie to play a while before bed. He had spent half of the afternoon setting up a racetrack, complete with pebbles marking the outline of the oval, toy horses on their marks, and toy soldiers crowded around as spectators. Tommy had one arm draped loosely around Lia’s shoulder as he chuckled lowly at the voices Charlie did for the announcers and the people in the crowd. They sipped their whiskeys and whispered their bets to each other.

“I think the black one will win by at least a length,” said Lia.

Tommy leaned closer until his nose grazed her ear. “I think it’ll be the bay. What would you like to wager, Miss?”

She looked up at the ceiling and pretended to think before replying, “How about three kisses?”

Charlie stopped galloping his horses and crowed, “Yuck, I can hear you two, you know.”

“You won’t always think it’s yucky, my boy. Now, run the race so we can see if Lia or your old dad has won.”

When Charlie was once again engrossed in the intricacies of the Derby, Tommy crossed the room to refill his whiskey. He motioned to Lia with the decanter and she joined him for a refill. They were just out of Charlie’s immediate line of sight, so he slipped his arms around her. She relaxed into his embrace and sighed, “This is lovely, but we’ll miss the end of the race.”

“I know what you are doing,” he said. His voice had taken on a more serious tone.

She put her hands on his chest and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“The dinners, the cookies at the door every afternoon, all of it,” he took a final drag from his cigarette and held her gaze as he placed the end in a nearby ashtray. “You are trying to have me spend more time with Charlie.”

“Charlie is a precious boy, and he loves you more than anything, Tommy. No matter what you may think, you deserve his love.”

Tommy stared at her in silence, stunned that she had read him so easily. She was innocent, guileless, and had no ulterior motive for what she said. She only wanted him to have a relationship with his son. The revelation both warmed him and filled him with uneasiness. He had let his mask slip in front of her, and she had seen the guilt and self-loathing that he hid from the world.

He silently blinked at her. When at a loss for how to react, his default was always to stall with a blank expression, a cigarette, and a glass of whiskey. He had stepped back from her and begun rummaging through his pockets for another smoke when Charlie’s high pitched voice called, “They’re in the final stretch!”

She turned to face the boy and his track, and as she did she caught sight of Grace’s photograph. He was far too young to remember the loss of his mother, but he knew the sting of growing up with a father who was absent due to an overwhelming sense of guilt and fear. Lia often reflected that Charlie seemed remarkably well adjusted for a child who had been through so much. She put it down to Ada and the staff, who honestly spent much more time with him than Tommy did. Then and there, she resolved to convince Tommy to have the boy stay in London with them. She couldn’t imagine being separated from him if they could help it.

***

“One of my boys should take you to your parents. I don’t like you taking the train on your own,” Tommy grumbled as his eyes shifted around and noted every shadow of the train station.

Both statements alluded to the very topic they’d been avoiding for a month—one of Tommy’s drivers being shot, and his lingering nervousness about the possibility that danger was still lurking about. Tommy hadn’t minded the train journey before, because Jenny was taking the trip with Lia. At the last minute, though, Jenny decided to stay in town an extra day with her new boyfriend, a Birmingham police detective.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a couple of hours. Besides, I need a chance to explain to my parents about us. I can’t just swan into the village in the backseat of a chauffeured Bugatti. It’ll give my poor dad a heart attack,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Tommy cut his eyes at her. “I thought you said you had told them about me already.”

“They know I’m seeing you, but they don’t know how serious we have become. They definitely don’t know about London. I need time to ease them into the idea of me moving to the city with you.” She didn’t say without a ring on my finger, but it hung in the air, nonetheless.

She didn’t want their last moments before the holiday to be anything less than perfect. She wanted the Hollywood movie sendoff, complete with passionate kisses on the train platform, but she would settle for a respectable kiss and less of his moodiness. She cocked an eyebrow and turned her face up to his. He licked his lips and leaned in to oblige her. She blushed up to the roots of her hair when she thought about everywhere his lips had been just a few hours before.

They had spent the night before “saying goodbye” until well after midnight. Tommy (or his secretary) had really outdone himself. They started with an extra-long supper with Charlie. He had become quite attached to Lia and wanted a chance to say goodbye before her trip home. After Charlie went up to bed, Tommy took Lia upstairs where all her things for her trip were packed into Louis Vuitton cases.

Lia gasped, “Oh, Tommy! It’s too much!” She ran her fingertips over the leather and along the brass closures and groaned with pleasure, “Its only a three-day trip.”

He approached her from behind and nuzzled her ear, “Consider it an early Christmas gift. The rest of it is at your house.”

“The rest of it!” She shouted through bubbly laughter, spinning around and grasping Tommy’s face. He was smiling broadly and loudly kissed her.

“You’ll need it when we go to London. So you see, my girl, it’s actually a very practical gift.”

“Wool stockings are a practical gift. This cost more than the house where I was raised.”

He caressed her shoulders and his face took on a more serious expression. “Get used to it, love.”

Lia leaned into him as his hands slid from her arms to her back. He traced down and back up her spine, stopping at the top button of her dress. With achingly slow hands he undid each button while Lia pressed herself closer to his body. Maybe it was the after-dinner whiskey that had made her so giddy before, but now her head was dizzy with want and she found it hard to catch her breath.

After he slid her dress off of her shoulders he grasped her chin between his index finger and thumb and pulled her face up to his. He took in her drowsy expression, and with his eyes wide he gruffly whispered, “Lia, eh? Look at me.”

She fluttered her lashes and complied.

Tommy ground into her until she could feel the blood pulsing through his veins. “I want you to get used to having the best of everything, Lia. You are with me now, and London is on a whole other level than Birmingham. You’re a smart girl, but in London, I’ll need you to be sharp. Can you do that?”

He still had her chin in his hand, but she nodded as best as she could. She had barely breathed out, “Yes, Tommy,” before he had taken her mouth with his own. He spent the rest of the night taking everything else she could give him.

He was thinking of the same thing when he reached into his pocket for his watch. It was time. “Call me when you arrive,” he insisted as he looked her up and down. Even though she would only be gone for a few days, he wanted to remember every detail: the soft waves of her hair, the freckles on her nose, the sad smile on her deep red lips. Standing on that platform watching her go, he began to realize that he wanted her to stay. In the sober light of day, he wanted her to stay, and that worried him.

Hell yeah, I have a Masterlist!

[writingstudent]

Thomas Shelby Always Gets What He Wants

Warning: swearing, alcohol use & sexual themes

AN: Peaky Blinders requests are open! First come first served.

Mobile Masterlist || Buy Me A Coffee || Ask Away

You fingers trailed the edges of an expensive suit, red lips smiling coquettishly behind your glass of gin. It was probably the third of fourth of the night. 

“I’m happy we grabbed a drink together Y/N” Michael’s voice had gotten raspier throughout the course of the night - it was either the cigarettes or the way you swiped your tongue over your lips after the burning gin. 

The Garrison was full that night, and like most nights, you had decided to join the crowd for a chat and some gin. As you had been putting on your jacket and getting ready to step out of work with Polly, the youngest Shelby approached you, asking if you would join him over a glass of gin. You had asked if it was to talk business, and he nodded in confirmation, yet you here you were, talking of anything but that. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” You smirked at the flustered man, still holding onto the naivety of being young. Little did he know that whenever your hand skimmed up his thigh, it was another Shelby you were thinking about. You had noticed Thomas’s interest in you over the past couple of weeks since your employment at the Shelby Company. While you had briefly gotten to know him through the years, he was always Ada’s older brother, and you his little sister’s friend. Nothing more. You had been there for Ada throughout her pregnancy, yet time had pushed you further apart. While her family gathered riches, you were left on your own in your struggles to pay rent and avoid Lizzie’s line of work. Being a woman in Birmingham was no easy feat. But ever since you had stepped into his office and filled in a position of an accountant, it was quickly noticed that your sharp wit would be of much more use in other terrains. Hence you became Thomas’s consultant, and the job entailed what you liked to think were many more long nights in the office than necessary. 

You felt a stare burning into the back of your neck and you could only smile further. He was here and he had noticed the attention that you were giving Michael. 

You leaned forward, whispering something into the young man’s ear, lips trailing slightly on his cheek as you giggled. He still had a lot to learn - starting from how to mask the keen interest he had for you. 

The pub started to grow a little quieter, and you heard the stoic man in your dreams make his way over. 

“Michael” 

Your date unwillingly shifted away from you to look at Thomas, and you purposely let a small sigh push past your lips as your hand left his jacket. 

“I thought you had some more papers to look over tonight.” Cool, as always, the devil himself raised an elegant eyebrow at the man sitting in front of him. He had not yet spare your a glance, and if you had not known him better you would have said that all your chances were out the fucking window. 

“Which papers?”

You fluttered your lashes at him with faux confusion, making his jaw tense in anger for a second. 

“The horse race issue - I will need them tomorrow”

Thomas Shelby always liked a good challenge, and you would be the best fucking challenge of his life. 

“You don’t need them for at least three days Thomas.” You smiled playfully at the blue eyes in front of you, as you leaned your head on Michael’s shoulder. “Let the boy have a break.”

With clenched fists, Thomas sputtered out a “something came up” while glaring you down. Slowly coming to a realization of his uncomfortable predicament, Michael rose up from his seat and bid you goodnight, leaving a kiss on your rosied cheek. If your heart hadn’t been taken already, you might have followed the youngest Shelby. He was certainly going to be a heart-breaker.

“What are you doing Y/N?”

“Having a drink.” You rolled your eyes at his possessive nature. His jealousy was uncalled for, when he was out with other women for business. 

“With Michael?”

“Why not?” 

He sat down next to you, dragging the chair closer. 

You calmly lit a cigarette, as you often did in his office while reviewing the business’s papers.

As you inhaled from the thinner feminine smoke, you looked over him, taking in his tense posture and unwavering stare. 

“Why are you here Tommy?” Your voice was soft and tired, but your eyes said otherwise. 

“We need to discuss the future of the Shelby Corporation” 

His words stung, but did not hold you back. 

“That would have been done in your office.”

You knew him so well. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in the faintest hint of appreciation. It was refreshing to have someone who openly confronted him, something he could get used to. 

His warm hand came to cover your own as it  leaned out to flick the ash off your cigarette, holding it there. Your face lit in surprise. His touches were usually lingering, but always fleeting. His hand remained there.

“What if I just wanted to talk to you?”

You gulped. This was everything you dreamed of and yet somehow it felt wrong. Your gut was screaming that this was not the real Tommy. This was Thomas Shelby, the mouth-watering businessman that knew his sex appeal. 

You remained silent, holding onto his gaze as your anger slowly began rising. You could not believe that he would treat you like this, as if you were any woman who wanted to get into his pants. You were his confident, the one that knew every single detail of his horrid plans and every angle of his family and empire. You were his fucking limb - he needed you to function. Polly had cracked under the pressure, and you took her spot as an intellect. No one could replace you. 

Looking into your eyes, he continued. 

“What if I wanted to grab a drink? ”

“Because Thomas Shelby always gets what he wants, right?” You freed your hand from under his, quickly putting out what remained of the cigarette onto the counter. Most of it had burned on its own. What a waste, you thought. 

“Yes” 

“Except for me.” 

You plastered a red mark on his jaw, turning around and waving at the barman to put tonight on your tab as you walked out, covering your shoulders with your jacket.

[bugheadbuddies]

Chapter 1: The Not-So-Subtle One

                                 | The Not-So-Subtle-One |

         Betty Cooper was never able to understand the appeal of sex. She knew that it would eventually feel wonderful, but that was it. She was raised on abstinence, and the only ‘first time’ stories she heard about were from her friends, about how painful the entire experience was. Betty could never understand why women were willing to force themselves through that much pain (most times more than once) until the pleasure began. Even when Polly first began having sex with Jason Blossom, Betty was appalled. When Polly got pregnant, it just strengthened Betty’s argument. Not only would it hurt intensely, but even the safest of people were still at risk of the side effects. She never understood the appeal of sex, at least, not until she started dating Jughead Jones.

           Everything moved slowly at first, ranging from soft touches to kisses and then eventually led them to the night they found themselves alone in FP Jones’ trailer. From that point on, Betty understood. She understood when his lips were on her lips, her neck, her collarbone while his hands found their way under her shirt. She can still feel his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her onto his lap, their bare chests touching. Betty can still see the passion she saw in his dark eyes when she looked down at him, and hear the noises he made when she rocked her hips. Safe to say, Betty could remember that night in vivid detail.

           She kept most of that to herself, sharing only few details with Veronica and Polly. The most intimate and intense details found their way into her diary, hidden away so her mother’s curious hands could never find it. The same diary that rested in front of her now, opened to a blank page.

           Betty sat at her desk, tapping her pen against her teeth as she used her left hand to knead her forehead. Her blonde waves fell in her face and she pushed them away, aggravated. Typically, she favored her ponytail, but with a headache that made it hard to focus, the ponytail would add to that pain. She dropped the pen on the desk, shut the diary, and stacked some books over it, making a mental note to put it away later. She yanked drawers open, groping around blindly for here bottle of Tylenol. With a frustrated sigh, she slammed her drawers shut and walked towards Polly’s room. The Cooper’s had recently gotten over the fact that their eldest daughter had broken her vow of abstinence and gotten pregnant, and just allowed her to move back in, so Betty knew just who was stealing her painkillers.

           “Polly?” Betty knocked on her sister’s door softly, before poking her head in the room. Polly was laying on her bed, a book in her hands when Betty stepped in.

           “What’s up, Betty?”  Polly rested the book on her very pregnant belly and smiled at her sister.

           “Did you take my Tylenol?”

           Polly laughed to herself and reached over to her bedside table and fished out the bottle. She tossed it to Betty, “Sorry! I just get these terrible headaches. Mom said she had them all the time when she was pregnant with us too,”

           “Reason 565 of why I’m waiting a long time before I have kids,” Betty joked wanly. “I’m going to go lay down, my head is killing me.”

           “Hey,” Polly stopped her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting really weird the past couple weeks,”

           “Yeah,” Betty snipped. “Why?”

           “Look, it’s just an observation! You’ve just been acting strange lately.”

           “Describe strange,” The anger she felt moments ago dissipated, into a heavier, tight feeling.

           “Honey, look, you’ve been beyond tired and nauseous for a while now. And these headaches have been coming more and more often!”

           “I’m probably just catching the flu,” Betty dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m okay,”

           “You’re also a little moody,” Polly pointed out. Betty felt her lip begin to tremble, everything Polly was saying was true, and she wished she knew why.

           “You’re also gaining a little weight, I see it in your chest,” Polly added. “I know you and Jughead are sleeping together, and-”

           “Polly!” Betty gasped, her eyes watering over. “I’m not, you know, pregnant! This is probably leading up to my period!”

           “When was the last time you had your period?”

           “Sometime last month, please, stop! You’re starting to sound like mom!”

           Polly put her hands up in defense, “Alright, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to be put in the same predicament that mom and dad put me in. I’m worried for you.”

           “I know, Pol, I get it. But, for the record, we use condoms.” Betty bit her lip, and met her sister’s green gaze.

           “I trust you Betty,” Polly said simply.

           “Thank you,” Betty breathes. “But I really am going to go lay down,”

           “Feel better,” Polly smiles softly and returns to her book.

           Betty shut the door to Polly’s room and went downstairs to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. She wipes her eyes on the back of her hand and uncaps it, taking a few sips to ease her emotions. As she drank, someone began pounding on the front door. Rubbing her head, she quickly downed two pills as the steady pounding continued.

           “Betty, oh my  God, Betty,” The voice of Archie Andrew flowed in through the wood excitedly.

           Scowling, Betty opened the front door to see her best friend wearing the biggest smile.

           “I texted you!” He announced as he stepped into the foyer.  “You never responded!”

           “Sorry, Arch, my phone’s in my room.” She explained weakly.

           “That’s fine,” He laughed, kicking his shoes off as his eyes darted across the room.

           Though they’ve been friends for years, it was a typical Archie habit to observe every room he steps into for a few moments. As he glanced around, he started talking again, trying to hype Betty up, but trailed off when his eyes fell on her.

           Having been friends for years, Archie has seen Betty through almost everything, and he likes to say that he knows her fairly well. So seeing her with her hair loose in a pair of gray tights and a loose, long-sleeved pink shirt meant that she probably wasn’t feeling the greatest.

           “How are you feeling?” He asked in a softer tone, watching as Betty rubbed her temples.

           Betty shrugged, “I have this killer headache,”

           “Did you drink a lot of water today? Sometimes I get headaches when I’m getting dehydrated,”

           She shrugged once more and Archie reverted back to the previous conversation.

           “So there’s the fall festival coming up, and Mayor McCoy reached out to me to play at it!”

           “That’s great Archie,” Betty gave a tight lipped smile. “But don’t you always play at these events?”

           “Yeah,” Archie’s enthusiasm never died, and Betty admired that. “But Josie won’t be in town, she’s going to visit one of her grandparents. They’re right next to a college and they want her to look into it. So I’ll be the main attraction!”

           “The rides will be the main attraction, Arch,” Betty teased. “You’ll be the background noise. But seriously, that’s amazing.”

           Archie laughed and walked into the kitchen, setting his bag on the counter.

           “I have a few songs I’ve been working on, and I don’t know if I should show them to you now or wait until we head to Pop’s. I’ll probably do a few covers too,”

           Betty watched as he shuffled through folders and papers as if he forgot he was at a different house without his proper materials. Archie seemed to have zoned out for the moment, so Betty stepped out of the room to grab her discarded phone. Once she was in her room, she moved her diary into its hiding place, and grabbed her phone. There was four messages, three from Archie, and one from Jughead. When she stepped on the stairs again, she went straight to Jughead’s.

           From: Juggie

           Are you doing anything?

           She bit her lip as she felt the butterflies in her stomach. They’ve been together for a few months now, but that excitement she gets when he texts her hasn’t gone away.

           To: Juggie

           Not really. Archie just came over to tell me some good news.

           Betty entered the kitchen once more and Archie had papers in his hands.

           “I’ve decided!” He declared. “I’m going to show everyone when we’re at Pop’s. That way you have some time to get over your headache.”

           Betty nodded along with him, as he retraced the steps he took moments ago. He was putting his shoes on when he said softly, “You should go take a nap, it might make you feel better.”

           “I’ll try, Arch. See you later,” She waved as he left, and headed to her room again.  She shut her door quietly, assuming that Polly was sleeping and stepped over to her mirror. Polly’s words floated in her mind, but there was no way there was any truth to them. Betty thought back to the last time she slept with Jughead, and shook her head. She was a stickler for protection, knowing her mother would flip if she got pregnant. Still, Betty pushed her shirt up over her chest and stared at her body.

           Polly was right, she was gaining weight. Her breasts were spilling out of the cups of her bra slightly, not enough to warrant an immediate bra change, but enough to be noticeable. As she lowered her gaze to her stomach, she noticed that it wasn’t as smooth as usual. Miraculously, Betty and Polly were blessed with slender frames, and right now, Betty saw that her tights were smothering her belly. It wasn’t enough weight to signify anything other than a pre-period bloat, and Betty ran her hand over it before dropping her shirt. Polly was just worried.

           Betty set her phone down on her desk, and went to lay down. Hopefully she’ll wake up from that nap feeling better.

xx

           “Betty,” Polly gently shook her sleeping sister. “Betty,”

           Betty jumped up and pushed herself back, rubbing her eyes, “Oh my God, you scared me!”

           “Are you feeling better?” Polly asked, taking a seat on Betty’s bed.

           Betty rubbed her head. Was she feeling better? Her headache did die down, but she felt sort of off.

           “Yeah, I think I just needed more sleep,”

           “That’s good,” Polly stood up again. “By the way, Jughead’s down stairs.”

           “What? Wait, why? Where’s my phone?” Betty was out of bed, and reached for her phone frantically, quickly unlocking it. There were a few missed messages stating that he was going to pick her up so they can have some alone time at Pop’s before Archie and Veronica got there.

           “Shit,” Betty mumbled. “Poll, can you tell him to give me just a few minutes?”

           “Sure thing,” Polly left the room, and Betty sprinted to her closet to change.

           Jughead has seen her at her worst, so Betty didn’t know why she cared so much about how she looked today. She ended up digging out a pink tank top and jean jacket from her closet and found a black skirt in her drawer. She changed quickly and then brushed her hair back and tied it as quickly as she could, praying that it was smooth on the top. She grabbed her bag and phone and then jogged down stairs.

           “Hey, sorry I didn’t see your messages,” She gasped, winded from her quick motions. Jughead was leaning against the wall, a bemused expression on his face. Polly passed by and waved before going up the stairs again.

           “Its fine Betts,” He said it softly, even though they were the only two there. “How are you feeling?”

           “I’m good,” Betty said, as she watched his dark eyes scan her face. Polly had to have mentioned her feeling ill to him.

           “Good,” He smiled at her, and held out his hand out. “Let’s go then, we just have to stop by the trailer.”

           Betty took his hand and let him lead her out the door to his bike. She was saving up to get her own car, so they didn’t have to ride on this deathtrap, but she was about halfway to her mark. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against the denim of his jacket as he took off.

           She was so accustomed to this ride that even with her eyes closed, she could tell that they were there after a few turns and three really rocky roads. She lifted her head and got off, waiting patiently for Jughead to do the same. Once he was off the bike, he strode up to her quickly and slid a hand around her waist.  He pulled her into his side as they walked towards the door and murmured in her ear, “I figured we had some time to spare,”

xx

           Jughead knew something was up when he saw Betty come down the stairs. She had been paler than usual, and looked ill. But the thought left his head when they were back at the trailer. She seemed to be her usual self, and the scratches down his back supported that. She had even seemed back to normal when they met up with Archie and Veronica at Pop’s. Veronica had ordered for them before they got there, so Betty’s typical strawberry shake was already in her spot. Jughead eyed the burger and fries Veronica ordered for him happily and eagerly popped a few fries in his mouth, nodding at her in approval. Betty however, stared at her shake with a strange expression.

           “What’s wrong B?” Veronica leaned across the table to get a better look at Betty. Jughead turned to look at his girlfriend, who looked very sick.

           “I don’t know,” She stated simply. “Honestly, the idea of this is making my stomach turn.”

           “Since when?” Archie asked. “You’ve never gotten sick of strawberries before.”

           Betty shrugged and looked down at the table, clenching her fists. “I don’t know. It’s either that or the smell of grease. I just feel like I’m going to puke.”

           Veronica looked at Jughead, concern written across her features. She forced a laugh and joked, “Maybe you’re pregnant, and maybe you have the stomach flu. The possibilities are endless!”

           Jughead watched as Betty’s eyes widened and she immediately pressed her hands to her stomach.

           “Betty?” He put his hand on her leg. “Are you okay?”

           She moved her hands and shook her head quickly, “I hope it’s not the stomach flu.”

           “Maybe you should’ve stayed home,” Archie placed his folder on the table.

           Betty shrugged and Jughead noted that she still hadn’t moved her hand from her stomach.