#the way tommy just talk about her death with charlie breaks my heart

[mctna2019]

Tommy: she's not gonna coming back so it's just you and me. she would be with us, in our heart. because we love her...

[peakywitch]

Tommy X reader with Prompt no.24 please❤️❤️❤️

Charlie, Mommy and Daddy - Tommy Shelby

Hi beautiful! sorry for keeping you waiting, life is crazy. 

words: 3.5k WOW

warnings: usual, bad language, mentions of dead people and war, angst and fights. 

PART TWO COMING SOON DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF LOVE GOT!!

masterlist

prompt: 24 “Pack your shit and leave. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

As the last days of October approached, Y/N already knew that Tommy's birthday was near. He had never revealed the date, so a few years ago Y/N started celebrating it one of the many days that were after the twentieth. First, it was the 21st, the next year the 22nd, and so on.

He always smiled at the vanilla and chocolate cake that she baked especially for him.

"Did I guess right?" she always asked, with a tired smile, her hair with a little flour and Charlie in her arms.

"Flavor? Yes. The date? Maybe." He answered, with a mischievous and funny smile.

That October 25, 1925, was like any other. While Tommy was in Watery Lane dealing with legal problems, Y/N and Charlie were trying to finish baking a cake.

"Why do we cook?" Charlie asked, as he walked and stumbled through the kitchen.

"Because today... might be daddy's birthday, Charlie." Y/N smiled, as she finished transferring the yellow mixture to a baking dish.

"How many years is daddy turning?" The woman could hear the question even over the creaking noise of the oven door opening.

"Five hundred." Y/N joked, leaving the tray in the oven and closing the door.

Charlie exploded into euphoric laughter.

After a few minutes, the boy asked a question:

“Is mummy going to congratulate daddy for his birthday? Is she coming back?”

The question left his lips so careless, he never understood. But what could someone expect from a four-year-old? But, although he didn´t understand the subject, Tommy actually never told him. “She went away.” He said whenever Charlie asked. He also never answered the “when is she coming back” question.

 “I think you should ask that to your father, Charles.” She answered slightly, he then bolted out into the garden to kick off wilted autumn leaves and on the ground.

While cleaning everything they used to cook, Y/N doubted that Thomas’s birthday was today, but she was sure he was turning 35. The age difference tormented them a bit, but for only seven years. Although in the past it had been the subject of discussion and disagreements, both were clear that one knew more than the other about certain things. Y/N didn't understand anything about politics or horses, and Tommy had no idea how he should act in situations of extreme emotional sensitivity. But they tried, Y/N tried to pet the horses and Tommy wiped her tears with a white handkerchief that had her name embroidered on it but was always in his pocket.

The half-hour of baking went by quickly, Y/N could only think about whether or not today was Tommy's birthday, she was hoping she could find out.

“Is this how it will be? Will I come to my house and watch you cook while my son plays outside?" asked a smile at the door.

The voice took her by surprise, forcing the girl to drop a spoon mixing chocolate. It fell to the floor, staining the white marble brown. It could have been worse, Tommy thought seeing the mess he caused in an instant, it could have been blood.

"Tommy!" she smiled, then hugged him tightly. "Happy possible birthday, possible birthday boy." She said in his ear, as she stroked his nape with her flour-stained hand.

He thanked her and kissed her forehead.

"So… I guessed right?" she laughed, Tommy could only keep his smile on his face, looking into her eyes “Oh come on. Tell me yes once, or at least tell me that I did well one of these last times. "

"Maybe." He said softly, after clearing his throat. He pulled away from her, leaned against the wall, and stroked his lip with a cigarette that he pulled from a metal box once his back was against the wall.

"I'll put salt in your coffee." She laughed as she cleaned up the mess.

"I don't drink coffee, Y/N." he smoked.

"Then... I'll move all the whiskey bottles around for you and hide them." She backed off, rinsing off the dropped spoon.

"I have them locked up and you know it." He reminded her.

Both looks smiled.

…

When the clock struck midnight, Charlie had been asleep for four hours. Tommy and Y/N had been talking about life in his office. Thomas had a glass of Irish in his hand and Y/N had a cup of tea.

The fire was loud, but the photo of Grace kept in Thomas's left desk drawer screamed in Y/N's mind. Charlie's questions echoed too, and that made the poor woman bite her lip with fervor.

"Y/N" Tommy clarified his voice "would you be so kind as to explain to me that you are so stressed out?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Charlie should know."

Without warning or a proper introduction, Y/N spat out what was so killing her. Although she told her husband a lot, she did not tell him about those times he murmured her name in his dreams. Neither of her constant demand to be like her. Because she felt like he was never going to love her the way he loved Grace. She wasn't asking him to love her more than Charlie, she would never ask that. But she felt like she could never fill Grace's place.

"The what?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and settling into the single chair.

“About Grace, Tom. Don't play games with me." She replied, setting the cup of tea on the small glass table that was holding the bottle of whiskey.

"I already told him, a month ago." He said as if nothing.

Tommy had that talent. He spoke of love, death, and war as if they were as simple as numbers. Two plus two is four, you love, you die and people kill. There was never a sugar coating with others. But with Grace's death, it was never like that. Maybe it never would be, but he had to be an adult and explain the truth to his child in a simple way.

“You told him she's gone, he thinks he's in America, Tommy. I think you should…” she continued, insisting softly in her voice.

"Are you telling me how to raise my son, Y/N?" he asked, after taking the cigarette from his lips and pointing at her.

Y/N didn't speak, but pressed her lips tighter, trying not to blurt out a mention about all those times Charlie called her Mom when he was really tired.

She looked at the gold band on her ring finger, her chest sank. She swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe and starting to breathe rapidly.

"Because if there's one of the two of us who can give a talk about parenting…" Tommy started, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it into the fire. "It's me."

"It's me." Y/N laughed, mimicking him. The comments, the stories, the complaints, and the sadness would not be tolerated anymore. "You never..." she began, trying to be as cordial as possible, it was late.

"Here we fuckin' go," Tommy complained, blinking slowly but not moving. He remained static, imposingly static.

“Yes, here we fuckin’ go, you bloody idiot. I know Charlie more than you do; I saw him more than you in these last four years. " Y/N got up from the comfortable sofa, starting to walk through her husband's private office. "Besides…!" the words hurt when leaving, everything she wanted to talk to him and never could, was coming out in the worst way, between screams and tears “Besides, I don't know what the hell to say when he asks me if I'm his mother! Because...!" the words suddenly stopped, they just didn't come out anymore.

Tommy was staring at her frowning; anger ran through his body.

“If you know him better than I do, why don't you tell him in a way that doesn't hurt, eh? Tell him about your bloody God and the angels, why don't you bring her flowers with him too?!"

The questions shot out of him after he jumped up like a bullet from his chair.

"Take him and tell him, tell him the story because I can't! Because I don't want to be the one to tell him that Grace is dead and that she won't be back!” she screamed back at him.

Both faces were transformed, Tommy had never looked so helpless and Y/N at first couldn't understand why Tommy couldn't do it until she had an epiphany.

"Oh my god..." Y/N whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her nose was turning red "You still... you still love her."

Thomas's face remained the same as before, did not change with the passing of seconds.

Everything was starting to make sense.

She suspected it, but now she was sure that that woman was still in his heart. She denied every thought and sent it to the back of her mind, ignoring the pain and anger. But she didn't realize it, until today.

“That's why you don't want to have any more children…” she whispered “You are not afraid to die and leave your children alone, Shelby. You don't want anything that isn't hers…” The realization broke her heart, her tears had a life of their own, they all went at different rates falling down her face “My God, what an idiot I was! At what point did I think you loved me!?" she screamed.

Then nothing.

There was only silence. On both sides. One could only hear the fire, like a few minutes ago.

"Why are you with me?" she asked, her heart ready to break again “Do I have her eyes? Do I have the same perfume?" she began to question, as she tapped him lightly on the shoulders and tried to keep her gaze on his blue eyes.

"Do I have her hands? Or what the fuck is it? I kiss just like her, huh? What the hell of her do you see in me?" she asked even more hysterical, her heart wouldn't stop beating and breaking every second, with every word.

Then, with only a few words everything went to hell:

“Mommy? Why are you hitting Daddy?”

Both adults looked at the little boy, standing on the door on his sleeping clothes. His hair was messy and had the cutest sleepy face ever. It melted Y/N’s heart, but Tommy didn’t care about no one else.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Charlie, go to bed.” She murmured while getting closer to the kid “Everything is fine, don’t worry…” she kissed his forehead and he disappeared, so she closed the door.

Y/N turned around and saw Tommy making a phone call, balancing the tube between his ear and shoulder while he served more Irish on his glass.

“Yes, yes please…okay, right now. Carnaby Street, the second house on your left. Yes… thank you.” He hung up and drank more.

“Tommy…” Y/N mumbled while trying to get closer to him.

He ignored her, walking towards a bookshelf across the room. He opened a book while being watched over by his wife.

“Please, I’m sorry. I…” she was about to burst down into tears, she was feeling helpless.

Tommy took a couple of papers from inside the book and left them on the black desk.

“Twenty pounds. Grab ‘em, pack your shit, and go.” He coldly commanded.

“Wha…what?”

Suddenly there was no more air in the room, it was also getting tinnier and tinnier. Her feelings were strangling her soul, she would fall defenseless on the floor at any given time.

“We need to be alone.” He said, and there it was again. He was being artistically careless as always.

“I don’t need to be away from you, I want to be with you and…”

“A car will be here in ten minutes, pack your things.”

He lit a cigar and sat on his black chair, then proceeded to do some paperwork.

“Tommy…” she cried softly, he was breaking her heart into a million pieces. “You are breaking my heart, please…”

“Nine minutes.” He muttered, without even looking at her.

How could he not care about here? The question was on her mind when she left him alone in his office, the doubt and the pain only grew bigger and bigger as she walked up the stairs to their room.

She opened the door, and everything came back to her.

The feelings she had ten years ago, seeing him date other women while she waited patiently for him to notice her, comforting him all those long nights after the war where he would just cry silently, him exchanging her arms for Grace’s and replacing her in every aspect with the Irish woman… Every single moment washed over her. Like an abnormal gigantic wave, it shook her. She suddenly became lost, she forgot where her dresses were, where her shoes were, and where the man she always loved was. But most importantly, she wondered if there ever was any love in him for her.

“Mommy?” a soft voice asked, and she came back to reality.

There, in the massive bed, was a little body wearing white pyjamas, hugging a stuffed bunny.

He looked sad and tired, just as she did.

“Hey” she susurrated while getting closer to him. She sited on the bed by his side and hugged him. “Charlie…” she whispered while caressing his hair “I have to leave, but we’ll see each other, alright?” Y/N tried to contain her tears, but they were being obedient to her heart.

“No!” he cried, hugging her as tightly as he could “Don’t leave me!”

The little boy was a mess, he was hugging her desperately while crying. She wrapped her arms around him, and another wave washed over her, but this time it was guilt and sorrow.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie…” she started to repeat his name quickly, trying to get the kid to look at her “Charlie…look…look at me, Charlie.”

His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were trembling, there was no way Y/N would leave the kid alone here. Charlie was her son, either Tommy liked it or not.

“Grab your coat, you are coming with me. We are going a few days with Auntie Esme, okay?” she cleaned his tears with her thumb and the little kid did the same with hers.

“Don’t cry, mommy.” She smiled with an expression of sadness, then kissed his forehead.

“Don’t forget Mr. Whiskers, he has to come with us so he doesn’t feel lonely without you.”

“Okay…” he whispered and then left.

She started to pack everything she could, which in five minutes it means: two blouses, one pair of pants, a few undergarments, and three dresses. She also took a few things for Charlie. Everything was in the brown leather handbag that had her initials.

“I’m ready.” Said Charlie, while appearing on the doorway with Mr. Whiskers on his left hand and his book Y/N read for him every night.

“Alright, are you ready to have a fun week with your cousins?” she asked while closing her bag, trying to cheer the little boy.

“Yes!” he said, with a smile.

She took her bag and walked to the door, she was now by his side. She saw the room one last time, she knew that was the last time she would leave it with it being “their” room. Because she knew this was the end, it was now Tommy’s room, as it always was.

Tommy’s room. Tommy’s house. Tommy’s kitchen. Everything belonged to him, even she did.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Ms. Shelby.” Said Frances, with a polite smile.

“Thank you, Frances…” she said, and turned around, closing the door. “Let’s go, Charlie.”

She lifted the kid and left him on her hip, while he gripped into her trying not to fall.

“We are going to Auntie Esme’s, we will have lots of fun and…”

She said a lot of things trying to cheer him up, but she was trying to convince herself she wouldn’t cry more that one night for that man.

She walked down the stairs lost in the sorrow, trying to hold everything in place. The kid, the bag, the feelings. She tried to get to the door before Thomas acknowledgement, but he was there, looking at her as if she was just a stranger. But Y/N knew that look on his face. That’s the way he looked at Sabini, that was the way he looked at Kimber before he shot him dead. He was looking at her as if she was his enemy, one who he had to erase.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going with Charlie, eh?” he asked, abruptly and aggressively.

“He´s coming with me.” She said, trying to sound secure and big.

“He’s staying here, this is his house.” He fired back “And I’m his father.”

“But I’m his home.” She fought, Charlie’s face was buried on her neck, he was so confused. “And you are never there for him at night when he cries, neither in the morning when he wants to have breakfast. You are only there to punish him, or to tell him to fuck off because you are working. And he needs time and someone, not a shit tone of money and a massive castle.”

“He’s not your son.”

“Yes, I am.” He cried on her ear, wetting her neck. “You are my mommy.” He kept on crying, he was nervous and scared. He was never in their fights.

“Move countries, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Get the fuck out of my sight, Y/N. Both of you.” He sounded like a mad dog, but at the same time like a lost one. He began to walk away, but froze when he heard:

“Goodbye, Mr. Shelby.”

He couldn’t move, he stood right there. Y/N shut the door slightly and walked straight into the car. She saluted the chauffer and gave him John and Esme’s address.

Ten minutes into the drive, Charlie began to miss Tommy.

“We will have fun, okay? We will play with their dogs, and we will eat freshly picked eggs. We can also go to the lake and do picnics with auntie Esme, how does that sound?” he nodded.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: open

@a-golden-sunflower-vol-6

@fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby 

@stydia-4-ever

[sproutwings]

FIRST LINE OF YOUR LAST 20 STORIES!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. @holycafe tagged me, and I done this before, over a decade ago, so I was curious how an updated version of it would look like.

cut me open, take my heart (DCU, JayTim): There's a knife at Tim's throat.

Twisted Every Way (TVD, Klaus/Elena/Elijah): When Klaus opens the door and invites her in with a grand flourish, nothing about his attitude reflects the severity of the situation.

no haven safer than the one you tore down (The End of the Affair, Maurice/Henry): Once, a long time ago, Sarah stood across from Maurice and told him in a tone too matter-of-fact to be called regretful, "Henry prefers habit to happiness."

better than none (The Big Country, Jim/Steve): There's always a demand for people who fight for money.

Patterns (OW, Superhero/Supervillain): It's an accident, the first time.

Devil's Hour (MCU, Zemo/Bucky): When the phone rings, Bucky is already awake.

before the night is through (DCU, Dickstroke): "Let me go, Slade."

tired of things that break (OW, Superhero/Supervillain): He's getting too old for this shit.

Rebuilding (DCEU, Martha Kent/Bruce): At the cemetery, Bruce keeps his distance.

From the Ashes (DCU, Dickstroke): Rose is the one who comes to him.

looks like freedom (but it feels like death) (Eye Candy, Tommy/Bubonic): "Tommy, a word."

stay awake (when the morning comes) (Arrowverse, Coldflash): Barry has never been a morning person.

truce until daybreak (DCU, Dickstroke): Slade doesn't usually show his face when he breaks into Dick's place.

underneath your skin (let me in) (Arrowverse, Coldflash): It's a little disappointing that breaking into the apartment of the Flash's civilian alter ego is so easy.

nothing so strong as gentleness (OW, Warlord/Imprisoned Prince): He doesn't look up when he hears the sound of footfalls approaching.

Takedown (DCU, Dickstroke): "Last warning, kid. Stay down."

When the Chips Are Down (MCU, Zemo/Bucky): The progress bar is creeping forward agonizingly slowly, percentages trickling up at a sluggish rate that makes Bucky want to put his fist through the screen in frustration.

Debriefing (DCEU, Superbat): They don't talk about it, afterwards.

Close Shave (Revolution, Charlie/Bass): Sometimes Bass misses how easy things used to be in the old days.

Joyride (Fast & Furious, Brian/Dom): "Brian, with me! We're going for a ride."

Not sure about any patterns. Most of the time, I seem to go for short first sentences. Some dialogue lines. Lots of vague statements teasing a complicated situation to build up suspense. (Not that I think of it like that when I write. I just throw words at a document and wait for something to stick.)

I think #18 is my favorite because just looking at the sentence, it's unclear what it is Bruce and Clark are not talking about, but it being Bruce and Clark, it could be anything! :D

I also like #3 because it's so completely not my usual writing style that I look at it and think someone else has written it.

Tagging (if you feel like it! as always, feel free to ignore!): @elasticella @waysheswings @sunherirai @withthekeyisking-writer @moriavis @qlala

[peakascum]

Trouble (pt. 2)

Holy fuck I went through 20 different emotions writing this. Idk if it’s any good, I really hope you all like it. Also I want to add the song I listened to on repeat while writing this just because, https://open.spotify.com/track/321cXoYTsPtmNaVGubsz4o?si=jXiwELdgRY6ZNXVEOm9A3Q

A week had passed since the fight between you and John. He slept over at Tommy’s house, while you stayed at Polly’s. He had tried to visit once and apologize but was met with the barrel of Polly’s gun against his cheek.Polly knew her nephews well and saw how John was hurting. His eyes were dull, his skin was pale, and he was never seen without a bottle in hand. 

As the day dragged on, Tommy called him into his office, unable to see him sulking anymore. “So this,” he gestured to John, “is how you plan on patching things up with your wife?” John looked at him through his lashes. “Fuck off Tommy, I don’t even know what to do anymore.”

Tom’s eyes hardened. “Fuck- Fuck off? Fuck off?,” he hit the surface of his desk loudly and stood up, “fuck off John. Fuck you.” His brother stared at him wide eyed. “Why the hell are you yelling at me for, ey? I tried apologizing but she didn't want to see me!” Now the whole betting shop was listening, even those placing bets. “I tried talking to her two days ago but I couldn’t! Why? Because you,” he stood up and pointed a finger at Tom, “you fucking sent her, my fucking wife, to deal with the fucking Russians.” Both brothers squared up, the only thing separating them being Tommy’s desk. John’s breathing was heavy, his eyes glassy and hands shaking. But he did have a point. 

*flashback*

The plan was for the brothers and you to attend the Russian party, but the evening before John had crossed the line once again. The family gathered in the den of the Garrison going over their parts.You and John sat on opposite sides, but you were hoping that after the meeting you would speak to at least be civil in front of the Russians. Then the barmaid entered, a new woman, beautiful, and just John’s type. 

After his eyes lingered on her for the tenth time that night you just about had it. “You know what, fuck you John and fuck you Tommy. I’m out.”

“The fuck-“

“Y/N!” Tommy exclaimed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t do this now. I know it’s tough but this is business.”

“This,” you said gesturing to the room, “may be business, Tom, but I am sick and tired of being disrespected by my husband in front of his- no, our family.” John snorted, obviously drunk beyond words. “How many times are we gonna go over this Y/N, ey?” You stared at each other, your eyes speaking defeat. “I am done being humiliated John. Fuck her for all I care.” 

“Fuck her? Ha! Fuck her? Oh, fuck me Y/N! Do you know how long I-“

“How long you what?” Polly suddenly interjected making the room quiet. “How long you what John?” She stared at the men’s faces grabbing your and Ada’s hands before saying, “Women are not pets. Wives are not slaves. We are not fragile or dumb. Built differently, possess different skills, but we can kill a man faster than any of you pigs could ever.” She looked over at John’s riled up frame before continuing, “Keep your cock to yourself John. One day you will find yourself surrounded by whores and death and loneliness, and then, just when you think that you've got it all, her face,” she said pointing at you, “will flash right before your sorry eyes, and your life will be reduced to pure shit.” 

You stared at Polly wide eyed while John stared at her. Polly’s always fucking right.

Tommy stared at the three women intently and then at John and a real silent Arthur. “You know what,” he paused to take a drag of his cigarette, “Pol, Ada, and Y/N, you will be attending the dinner with the Russians. We will place Blinders outside for your protection.” He stood up ignoring Arthur’s protests and shut him up with a single look. “Don’t be pathetic. You heard her, different skills, but we all know who’s the best shot in all of Birmingham.”

*flashback ends*

Thomas Shelby had sent his aunt, sister and sister in law into the hands of one of his most dangerous enemies, and boy was John mad. He knew he was in the wrong, but he just couldn't stop pissing off his wife. 

They had yet to return. No one had heard a word from them since they left last night, leaving a nervous Tommy and a distraught John to do something they had never been good at, sit around and wait. 

“Why do you care so much anyway, Tommy?” John asked sitting down once again. 

“I care because your wife is family and of great value to this company. Nobody can do their job right while having all his fucking tension between you.” Tom was very fond of you ever since Grace died. He had always liked you, but after her death you helped with Charlie a lot while never failing to keep your house in check, and do your job well at the betting shop. He admired you. 

John knew he kept fucking up, but he knew that it was just his self destructing methods. He felt embarrassed and the only thing he could do was sulk and act out. 

“Fix this John, you're not dad.” This caused John to look at his brother. A silent understanding between them. Oh, how cruel their father had been. 

John took a breath and his eyes watered, “How am I suppose to fix this Tom, ey? She hates me.” His voice broke at the statement, hands coming up to play with his lips. “She hasn't come back from a dangerous mission that you put her through, and she hates me.” Tommy pointed at him as he brought the cigarette to his lips, “Fucking fix it.”

The night set in once again, bringing in a cold wind of desperation and an all too uncomfortable silence. The act of waiting and never been easy for the Shelby men, much less waiting for the three most important women in their lives. As the night got darker, so did John’s thoughts. Images of you hurt haunted him. His words and actions, all uncalled for, haunted him. 

In a matter of minutes the door to the shop burst open and in ran the three women and a pack of Blinders. The once quiet shop was booming with voices and people, all talking at the same time. John elbowed through them searching for your figure, but you ran past him making your way over to Tommy.

You placed a single piece of paper in his hand with a triumphant smile, “Here are the codes and the address to where the jewels are stashed.” 

“I swear to God, the skills on that girl are unmatched.” Ada said proudly as the plopped on a nearby chair. You giggled tiredly and accepted the praise. “Oh please, what about Polly’s tricks, ey? Swear to God Polly’l have to stay away from Sunday service for a while.” The girls laughed. 

“Oh come on boys, you jealous we had all the fun?” Polly said as she watched her nephew’s confused faces. “Yeh, all right Poll. Just glad you're safe.” Tom said as he took out the whisky bottles. 

John came over to you silently, eyes scanning your figure. The dress you wore slightly ruffled and quite revealing, making his heart quicken. You had dried blood on your cheek and hair in knots, which tore at his heartstrings lightly. 

“Y/N?” He said, locking eyes with you. “What happened to your hair,” he gestured to to you, “and your clothes and cheek.”

You looked at him and said, “It’s just business, John.” Oh, how his own words came to bite him in the ass. “Just business, ey? Just-“ he paused and ran a hand through his face. He took your hand gently and dragged you to his office.

This was the first time you were alone in a while. John took a seat on one of the chairs with his arms resting on his knees, looking defeated. 

“How’d you get the codes Y/N?” He asked peering his eyes at you. 

“Does it matter wh-“

“Yes it does matter!” He screamed, “it does matter how my wife got the most guarded codes in all of Birmingham.” 

You looked at him with tears in your eyes, “I didn’t fuck anyone if that’s what you're implying John.” 

“It- it’s okay if you did. I wouldn't blame you.” He says softly. You scoffed. “I’m not you John.”

He stood from the chair and approached you slowly. His hands caressed your face gently, wiping away the dried blood that latched onto your skin after the Russians didn't comply. His eyes wrinkled a little, those same eyes that lit up every time he saw you walk in. The eyes that desired you after a night of work, when the world was quiet and you could built palaces out of pillows and sheets.

“You've been so horrible to me.” Your lower lip wobbled as you spoke. He flinched a little, feeling his heart break further. “Why would you do that? Have I been so horrible that you would hurt me like that?”

His shook his head quickly in an attempt to make the words fall out of his ears. “I will never forgive myself, but it will never happen again. It- it just fucking won’t.” His voice cracked, “It fucking won’t.”

He started pecking your lips repeatedly, tears mixing with each other, being the first to reconcile. He made his way to her neck and collarbone with is hands following by gripping your sides. Why had they started fighting? 

Your hands gripped his hair softly out of instinct. You had known each other for so long and had loved each other far too passionately to be fighting like this. 

His lips reached your belly, “I promise to be better, I promise.” 

The betting shop had quietened and your rage had passed. “Me too,” and it was a promise. 

“Don’t leave,” and it was an i love you.

Tags: @peakywitch

[zodiyack]

Born To Die

Requested by anon: Can you do a imagine with Tommy Shelby? A song fic maybe Lana Del Rey's Born To Die but fluffy and angsty?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, *in Italian voice* mention of mafia stuff, mention of death, death not Reader’s or Tommy’s, fluff

Song: Born To Die by Lana Del Rey

Note: I can’t remember if they say how their mother died, I’m guessing it was when she gave birth to Finn, I dunno, I’m assuming so because...yeah idk. I hope you like it!

Edit: OH SHIT I JUST REALIZED I REMEMBER WHEN HER DEATH IS MENTIONED- I'M BIG DUMB LMAO

Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic | Thoughts = Apostrophe + Italic + Apostrophe

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby, @peakysputain​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Feet don't fail me now, take me to your finish line. Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take, but I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine.

Walking through the city streets, is it by mistake or design? I feel so alone on a Friday night, can you make me feel like home if I tell you you're mine?

Tommy sighed, watching the woman he loved walk angerly out the door of his office. He informed her of the Changretta’s vendetta and how she would need to leave him to live. He told her that he didn’t care whether or not she wanted to, that it was his decision because he was the one the Italians wanted to kill.

“I can fend for myself!”

���I don’t doubt that, love, but you need to leave.” He looked away, the quivering of her lip too much for him to handle. Tom almost cried, his eyes were watery and his heart was aching, he really didn’t want it to come to this. “Maybe being able to protect yourself will keep you alive if you ever need-”

“Whatever. I’m not leaving. I’ll just go home until you can change your mind or learn that I’m no coward. Perhaps when you do choose the right decision, you could come stay with me. Otherwise, enjoy your time here, Husband.” Venom dripped from the word, hitting him hard as he watched her spin around, grab her coat, and hurriedly stomp out the building. 

Y/n smiled slightly, only for a moment, responding to the sorry expression Lizzie gave her as she walked past. The smile soon dropped from her face, showing that it was only for Lizzie to see, that she too was sorry. The woman flinched as the doors slammed, rubbing the sides of her head with a deep sigh.

“Thomas. She’s right, ya know. I’ve seen that girl do some extraordinary shit. Think about it.” With that, Lizzie followed Y/n’s actions, quieter and calmer, but still leaving him to drink his sorrows away while he “thought” about everything.

He downed another shot. What had been? His hundredth shot? His desk was already a mess, his office no better, and his heart still bared the burden of knowing Y/n would either be hurt by him or hurt by the mafia. There was no loophole this time.

The girl he thought of made her way to her old home, drenched in the rain, and utterly tired. Mentally. Emotionally. Slightly Physically. She knew exactly what she was getting into; Shelby business usually always had guns involved. Pol often told her that Tommy really did love her, that he was just stubborn.

Y/n laughed mockingly. Thomas was stubborn, but stubborn could be broken with choices. So that’s what she gave Tommy. Two of the hardest choices she’d ever thrown at him. Y/n grew worried as she neared her home, the feeling in her stomach and heart. ‘What if he doesn’t follow?’

She halted in her steps, turning and looking around. He wasn’t there.

Her walking continued, this time feeling very, very, very, very, alone. Each time she passed a block, knowing she was nearing her house, she felt all hope leave her body. She felt strength, bravery, and faith deteriorate as her heart slowly tore in two.

The door to her house taunted her. It’s readiness to be opened, to have her brain laugh in self-mockery, to tease her about how stupid she was to believe Tommy would actually care.

Or maybe- he’d be behind the door. Raced her to her home to prove her wrong with a pleasant surprise. Her front door was full of tricks, and her heart was pounding with anticipation.

She opened the door, revealing the nothingness of her home. It’s interior dark and Tommy-less. Y/n didn’t know what to do. Her plan to hurt him just a little backfired into hurting her just a lot. The couch was her bed that night. She was alone.

Tommy failed her.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, lets go get high, the road is long, we carry on; try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane, So choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die.

Ever since that weekend, she’d been avoiding Tommy. She only stopped by their mansion to see Charlie and the other Shelbys, but other than that, she stayed in her old house. The Y/n Tommy knew was clinging onto the edge, praying he’d change his mind.

Tommy was too damn stubborn for his own good.

“Thomas. You have to apologize-”

“No, Pol. I don’t have to apologize nor admit that she’s right. You know why? Eh? Because she’s not. I will not have the woman I love get murdered in front of my own eyes, or at all. If Y/n is to die, I’d rather it be old age or peacefully in her sleep than by the son of the man who tried to kill her at our own wedding.” 

He knew the mafia would make it harder to prevent deaths, which he’d learned from John, and Y/n would be shown no mercy by Luca, so he took his time, for once, to think about his options.

“See? She’s escaped death once, who’s to say she won’t laugh in his face again?” Polly scoffed at her nephew, walking out the door to visit Y/n like she’d been doing for the past few days.

Y/n needed company, and Polly was the perfect person for it. She made Y/n tea and helped her unwind, allowing her to know more of her past than her own family member did. Y/n ranted to Polly, about the things she missed and the things she didn’t. About the things that made her want to lash out and the things that made her want to cry with joy.

“How’s Tommy?” Y/n spoke through sniffles.

“Horrible, still a stubborn bastard. But lets not focus on his actions in the now. Instead, why don’t you think of the things you love...no, loved, about Tommy, more specifically, how he was before the paranoia caught up to him?”

“I mean, can you blame him? His brother was-”

Polly pursed her lips, hinting to Y/n that she was not in the best of moods to be discussing anything of John’s death. Y/n stopped, looking to Pol, waiting for her to continue. “Tell me, what did Tommy do to win you over?”

“He was... kind. And very caring.”

A small boy chased a smaller girl through the woods, their bare feet crunching the leaves under them, cold air nipping at their noses and uncovered parts of their skin.

“Tommy!”

The younger girl cried as she tripped over a branch in the path. Only nine, she was sure she’d fallen in love with the twelve year old boy. He’d been sure of the same thing as well.

“It’s okay, Y/n, I’ve got you!” He raced over, jumping skillfully over the wood and dropping to his knees. His hands reached for her leg, she hissed in pain and brought her leg back towards herself. “No, you have to let me see it if I’m to help.”

“Promise you won’t hurt it more?”

“I promise.” The boy smiled brightly up at the girl before inspecting her leg. When he discovered it was nothing major, he pressed a chaste kiss to her injury, then helped her up and onto his back.

“He knew just how to make me laugh..still does,” she chuckled quietly.

“Thomas! I can’t believe you did that!” The teen girl gasped at her admirer, his story being more amusing than he’d thought. It was a relief. “Polly must’ve been pissed!”

“She was. Told me to stop doing the impressions, that it was disrespectful. But John enjoys it, so Aunt Polly doesn’t have to know everything...” They stopped, Y/n put out her cigarette and pulled Tommy’s from his mouth, putting it out as well. “It’s um..raining.”

“I know.” Y/n smirked at the boy, biting her lip shyly before extending her hand, “May I have this dance?”

“Isn’t it the boy who asks the girl?” She rolled her eyes playfully, Thomas joining her in their laughter, “Fine fine, yes, you may. As long as I lead.”

“Can’t promise you anything, princess.”

Tommy gasped, feigning offence, “Oh you didn’t-”

“Oh but I did.” Her smile made his heartbeat rush, the blush on her face mirrored his, and the dinosaurs in their stomachs evolved into giants. Once butterflies, now giants, their teen crushes never hesitated to bring them closer.

They danced, Y/n’s dress sticking to her skin like Tommy’s dress-shirt. They’d came from the church, Tommy’s story about how he talked to John in the preacher’s voice, and their Sunday Bests were now soaked with the skies tears, which their melody came from.

“Y/n?” She nodded in response. “Lets run away. Together.” He dipped her, and then pulled her back up to see her reaction. A wild, even mischievous, smile rested on her lips before he leaned forward to join their grins in a rough kiss.

“Polly will kill us, you know?”

“Oh I don’t doubt that for a second.” He pulled away from her, twirling her with his hand and basking in her giggles, “So I suppose we should think of what our final words’ll be, huh?”

Lost but now I am found. I can see but once I was blind. I was so confused as a little child, Tried to take what I could get, Scared that I couldn't find; All the answers honey.

She winced, crying out in emotional pain as the priest slapped Tommy. Pol collected her nephew, but no one came for Y/n. She was going to give up, allow the church to take her wherever they planned, but the door opened again. Polly waited by it.

The older woman blinked in surprise as the teen wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “T-thank you.”

“You’re very welcome dear. Now, come along, we mustn’t stall.”

Ever since that day, she’d been so bothered with the curiosity of what led Polly to help her. Even now, as an adult and married to a Shelby, she was confused. Polly was still helping her, even though she wasn’t on the best terms with Tommy.

“Why?” Pol looked up. “Why’d you help me that day? Did Tommy ask you too?”

Polly thought back, smiling and shaking her head. “No.”

“Then what made you help me?”

“Nothing, Y/n. I just... I just felt the need to help. Thomas had no say in the matter, as he believed your parents were coming. I believe I... I could see his love for you. The way he looked at you, the gleam in his eyes when someone brought you up, the pep in his step whenever he went where you were. Tom was happy, and that was important... especially when their mother passed.”

Y/n nodded, a single, yet still sad, tear rolling down her cheek.

“Tommy? what’s wrong?” The 18 year old boy crawled through her window, eyes red and puffy. He mumbled something of his mother dying after giving birth to the youngest, and the last, Shelby brother. 

She felt her eyes well up with tears, knowing his pain and feeling the need to hold him close to her. 

And she did. His head rested on her chest as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, waking up with tear-stained cheeks, tired eyes, and matching red hazes across their faces.

She fell asleep with him that night. And the next. And the next. And the next. He continued coming over, crying to her, sometimes with her. Despite them not confessing their feelings for one another yet, they knew full well how in love they both were, after all, they’d kissed before.

1908 was a wild year.

But it was also the year they finally vowed to be together. The sooner three more years had passed, the sooner she’d be with the man she loved. She smiled, stretching as much as she could with a sleeping Tommy on her. The sunlight danced across his sleeping face, allowing her to admire him and all his beauty.

The sleepy smile on his face too. It showed how happy he was.

That, or how much he enjoyed the feeling of her nails combing through his hair.

Either way, they were both happy.

“That’s why I helped.”

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, Lets go get high. The road is long, we carry on, Try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, you like your girls insane, Choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die. We were born to die We were born to die.

Come and take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane~

Luca blinked, blood in his eyes, as Y/n walked through the door and raised her gun. Thomas’ eyes widened; he was expecting Arthur, not his wife to push past him. And he certainly wasn’t expecting Arthur to just stand there, doing nothing to stop her. 

She smirked at the Italian before shooting him, the bullet passing through his head and hitting the barrel behind him. She didn’t so much as flinch as the gunshot rang throughout the building.

Changretta’s body hit the floor with a loud thud, splashing sounds following. Gin poured from the hole in it’s barrel, but no one cared. 

They were too focused on Tommy’s wife, who was tucking her gun away.

The woman looked at Tommy, a sigh of relief, possibly from the fact that he was still alive, escaped her mouth. She turned and left without saying anything.

He let out a shaky breath, speaking with pants every now and the,. “Tell your people in Chicago, that Michael Gray will sign the import licence to New York. 300 barrels of English dry gin a month.”

“Leave. All of ya. Tell your boss what you saw here today. Tell him...you don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” Arthur stepped aside once the men had left. “And uh brother? I believe you have your own business to attend to?”

“What?”

Polly flicked Tommy’s ear with a shocked expression. It was not from Y/n killing Luca, though she did feel proud of the girl, but from Tommy’s stubborn dumbassery. “Quit being such a stubborn bastard and go after her, idiot!”

“Right-” He swallowed before nodding and rushing out of the building.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, Lets go get high, The road is long, we carry on, Try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane. Choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die.

The slam of the door caused Y/n to stop and turn around. 

“What do you wa-” She started, only for her to be grabbed by the back of her neck and pulled into a kiss. Their lips fit together perfectly, dancing before separating for the horribly-timed human need of oxygen.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you-” Y/n cut him off, pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket. The rain began to pour, dousing the couple in a familiar melody. She pulled away, grinning widely. “Oh.. it’s raining. Should we head back ins-”

“I know.” She extended her arm to her husband, her action and interruption catching him by surprise. “May I have this dance?”

[babylooneytoonz]

Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Reader]

You can read all the other parts here.

Part-6

Thomas Shelby was a man true to his words and his warnings.

You found him lurking at your doorsteps countless number of times after that—

At first, you protested; you screamed at him, lashed out and asked him to leave. And every time you did, he came back the next day like a snarky little pest.

Although he didn't for once made you feel like he would hurt you, or your daughter, but a small part of you felt afraid, afraid he will do something dreadful if you kept on shunning him away. You feared for your daughter, although you knew he wouldn't touch a hair on your head, you were afraid if anything was to happen to you, what would become of her. Also, you couldn't fail to notice the sparkle in her eyes when she asked you if her new daddy had come to visit her, almost everyday. There were days she asked you about Theodore, but you told him he was in heaven now. The topic always ended with her asking you if Thomas was going to visit and you had to lie each day that he hadn't come yet.

So finally, one day, you had melted in your resolve and finally let him in, into your house but not into your heart.

No, you weren't going to do that—

Thomas often visited your home on Sundays, and stayed to have dinner with you and his daughter. You were quiet, but deep inside, you felt a warmth when you saw the father daughter duo talk on about all the topics in the world; ranging from ice creams to the deadliest animals alive. Tommy was a good father, atleast he was good with your girl.

Things between you and Thomas were the same. There was a cold layer of ice; blocking the both of you from stepping close to each other's proximity but you wanted it to be that way. Neither of you spoke unless it was absolutely required and there was no other option.

Wintry trees stood along the side of the road and the cold winter wind was blowing through, making you desperately struggle to keep your hair in place. You held your daughter's hand, her fingers locked with yours as you walked towards the clinic. Now, with Theodore dead, there was no one to watch over her. Although Thomas had wanted you to keep a nanny, you didn't want it. You couldn't trust the people he trusted; and you couldn't trust him, so he hadn't pushed you. He knew that you would break eventually, just like you had, to letting him meet his daughter and be in her life. But little did he know that your walls will finally break when something as drastic as this happened—

"Is daddy coming over for dinner tomorrow?" Your daughter had the usual question up her lips; you smiled and looked down at her through your round frames. You realized you had grown older, atleast physically although you were only in your mid twenties; rendering your eyesight weak.

"It's Sunday, ain't it love? Unless he's busy, he's going to be there." You informed, tugging at her hand slightly so she could walk a little faster as your mind was half at the clinic, wondering if the patients were coming in already; and whether the doctor was waiting for you.

The road was almost empty, with just a few passersby on the road, young mothers mostly, scurrying away as fast as they could because the winter chill was dense and they were worried their children would catch a cold. A man stood in a corner, by a tree, resting his back against its silvery bark. His car was parked not much distance away. And he looked harmful enough. A woman, her swollen belly evident underneath the layery white dress that she wore, she stood leaning against the car. The couple seemed to have had an argument.

As you passed them by, the woman lifted her eyes up and her eyes fixed on your daughter first and then on you. You gave her a warm smile, as much as your frozen cheeks were able to.

"You've got a lovely lass," she said to you before removing her gaze from you and fixing it on the child, "Oh my, that is lovely hat."

"Thank you," Sophie chirped; excited that someone had complimented her hat, that she had taken from your wardrobe, a hat you never really wore.

You ran your hand carelessly through your tresses, tucking in the loose strands that had slid out from behind your ears as you gave them one last look and continued walking your way.

You hadn't gone far, but your steps were fast; yet somehow, your ears caught the sound of someone's footsteps behind you. You paused abruptly, your fingers tightening around your daughter's hand as you turned to look back. The woman and the man had followed you, but what worried you was the silver, glistening metal in the man's hand, aimed right towards Sophie. Instinctively, you stepped in front of her, sheilding her from the direct aim of the gun.

"Jesus, do you want money?" You pulled out your purse, jingling it so they could hear the coins and maybe, would lower that weapon down. When they didn't, you pleaded again, "Please, can you put the fucking gun down? My daughter's scared." You tried to reason with the woman, hoping she would understand.

She only shook her head, her plump lips curving into a sly smile.

"Now that's in your hand, he won't pull the fucking trigger if you hand her to me."

"Now why the fuck would I do that?" You were in full combat mode now; your nostrils flared and your fists clenched against your sides.

"Hand me the fucking gun you dim wit and go get that darn lass," the woman hissed under her breath towards the man, who hurriedly nodded and handed her the gun, giving her a minute to aim the gun towards you as he started jogging in the direction you two were standing.

"Give her to me." He snarled, reaching out with his beefy palm to grab the girl by her dress but you were fast, you grabbed Sophie and pushed her behind you immediately, pushing the man with all your might.

"You fucking whore," he cursed, stumbling slightly backwards and he was about to lunge at you when a shot richocheted off the woman's gun in the air and everything went still; only the wailing of your daughter could be heard.

"You'll be alright, baby. Nothing's going to happen, okay? Do you trust mummy?" You whispered softly, letting your hand trail back so you could hold her hand but suddenly, a sudden pain ripped through your body, a bullet tearing through the flesh on your arm as it pierced into you. You tumbled almost backwards with the momentum of the bullet, leaving your guard down and in that minute, the man lunged at Sophie, slamming a sack on her face.

"NO! Let go off her!" You screamed as loud as you could, as you steadied yourself only to realise it was too late as the metal of the gun struck you in the back of your head and your eyes widened; the sound of your daughter's screaming slowly shrinking away. You struggled to stay awake but your eyes were getting blurry and your vision suddenly blackening as you fell to the floor with a sickening crack.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOMEONE TOOK HIM? HOW CAN SOMEONE FUCKING GET IN AND TAKE HIM? Where the fuck was Mary? And the other fucking servants?" Thomas Shelby's voice boomed through his office as he paced up and down in front of his sister. He felt like wind had been knocked out from his chest and someone was pressing down on his throat with their foot. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't understand how someone had managed to get into his house, right under Ada's nose.

"I swear to fucking God Tommy, I went to the fucking bathroom, for a minute. When I got out, the house was quiet. I went to Charlie's nursery to check on the children, Karl was playing with his toys, on the carpet, but the window was wide open and Charlie wasn't there."

He was pacing up and down the room, his hand occasionally flying up to his face to rub it anxiously. He was trying to think of who could have done this. He had a handful of enemies who could have done it, but he needed to know just who it was exactly who had dared to take his son. Thomas was mentally preparing to slit the man's throat, just enough to give him a slow, torturous death, once he got Charlie back—

"Did Karl say anything? Did he bloody say anything? Ada?"

The brown haired girl just shook her head, her face constricted with worry.

"If something happens to my boy, I'm going to bloody make sure I —" Tommy's words were interrupted by a knock on his office door. "What is it?" He almost snapped when the door was pushed open and his secretary poked her head in.

"Lizzie, what—"

"Before you scream at me, I wanted to inform you that there's a woman waiting outside, a fucking stubborn one. Says she knows you and what she needs to tell you cannot bloody wait."

"Ask her to fuck off, Lizzie. My son's fucking kidnapped."

"She told me to tell you her name, it's some (Y/N)?" She whispered, before curling her lips slightly, ready to step out and shut the door.

"Lizzie wait. Let her come in. Ada—" He turned towards his sister, "Just bloody leave. Go home, be with Karl, I'm going to bloody figure something out. I'm going to get my boy back." He snapped at her and she just slowly left, the fear in her eyes and the strain evident on her face. On her way out, she walked past you, eyeing you as you weakly walked up to his office.

You had somehow managed to reach the clinic and the doctor had hurriedly dressed up your bullet wound; lucky for you, it had just grazed your skin a little and no damage was done. You had then rushed out, as fast as you could, running all the way until you were finally here.

"If it's not anything important, I don't have time." He looked at you through his glasses, motioning for you to come in.

Your face was coated with dust, and he could see a look of horror in your eyes. He knew whatever the matter was, was urgent, but he wondered if it was more urgent than going to look for Charlie.

"Tommy—" Your lips started quivering and your eyes started watering, "they took her Tommy. They took our baby."

Tommy had never been a religious man but he had always believed in hell, and he felt like he was finally seeing a reflection of it. Weeks of hopeless searching for two, not one of his children, was proving to be futile for he was returning back home again, empty handed, without any clue.

He dreaded going back, for he knew he will have to face you—

And the look you would give him, the pain in your eyes—

Ever since your daughter was taken, you had started living at the Arrowe House, only to be there when Tommy received a news; a positive one. Another reason was that your home was nothing but a purgatory now, without your daughter. It haunted you, the emptiness. You couldn't deal with it.

Tommy took off his coat, letting it hang on the coat hanger. The house was quiet, which was a surprise to him for he knew that you sat by the door everyday, waiting for him to come back home with a hopefulness that they had been found. But today, you weren't there.

Confused, Tommy walked from room to room, searching for you until he spotted you from one of the windows, in the backyard, speaking to Michael. Cursing under his breath, he turned around, winding his way down the flight of stairs until he was out where the two of you were, in the backyard.

You were the first one to see him, but this time, he saw a hope in your eyes.

"Tommy, Michael found something."

Tommy turned to Michael immediately, his eyes narrowed as he waited for the younger boy to reply, "we found the woman and the man that took Sophie, Tommy. And they confessed, they did it for the pounds."

"Fucking cunts." Tommy cursed, his anger evident on his face, "Who paid them? Who has them Michael?"

"Riley Shaw."

"That fucking bastard—"

Tommy's eyes flew towards you and they softened for a bit.

"Who is he, Tommy?" You whispered, your voice weak and barely audible.

"A fucking businessman in London."

You were not daft, you knew what the business world Tommy was talking about— the illegal one, but now was not the time to fight. You needed your child back.

"The first train to London leaves at four, Tommy. We need to hurry if we have to catch it—"

"We? You're not fucking going anywhere." He cut you off, mid sentence.

"You think you can stop me Thomas? That's my fucking child out there." You hit him hard on his chest.

"That's my fucking daughter too. And I will get her back." He spat, grabbing your fist mid air, before you could hit him one more time.

"Listen, Thomas," you said, much calmer, but your voice strong, and your mind already made up, "If not with you, I will catch that fucking train on my own. Even if I have to look for her all over London, I bloody would."

Thomas Shelby closed his eyes, knowing very well that you had made up your mind and that he could do nothing to change your mind. By that time, you had already turned on your tail, marching your way out of his house, when he called out, "I'm not letting you go, alone."

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 10

A/N: Alright this one broke and mended my heart all at once while I was writing it - goddamn these characters hahahahaha. 

WARNINGS: Swearing, Violence, Guns, Death, Alcohol - 

I know I’ve used swear words in previous chapters but this one is quite heavily riddled with it, I also thought I’d warn that there are mentions of death in this one my loves - it’s nothing too full on and I don’t go into heavy descriptions but I just felt like this one needed a warning just incase x

As always, please enjoy xx 

As the alarm goes off, Charlie and I both jolt awake in bed. It only takes a few moments to realise that it’s almost half an hour past when we were supposed to be up.

“Fuck!” He shouts as he jumps out of the bed, ripping the sheets back. He’s going on a work trip this weekend with his brother, and if the time on the clock is correct, then the car should be pulling up any moment. 

I tear myself out of the bed after him, frantically running around with him to help him get ready. 

“Charlie your suit case is in here!” I call as I hear him fumbling around my apartment for his luggage. He runs back into the room, tearing through the cupboards for his suit. 

He strips naked right in front of me, and I can’t help but laugh at how much of a mess this is as I try and help him get his suit on. 

“He’s gonna kill me if I’m late” he stresses, his hands desperately trying to do up his buttons but he fails. This is a big weekend for their business. If he’s late or messes his up, I know how horrible he will feel about it for a long time. 

“Hey, just breathe okay, let me do this” I coo, swatting his hands away as I do his buttons up for him. 

He nods, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Once his shirt is buttoned up he takes off again, scurrying around gathering all his paper work, luggage and some how wriggling his shoes on. We both jump in fright as the beeping of a horn below signals that his car is here. 

Swearing repeatedly, he runs to the door, but freezes right before he walks out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he breathes, turning back to me with a shaking his head.

“Stop, it’s okay” I promise him, my hands on his chest as I straighten his tie and jacket “You’re gonna be amazing” 

With a relieved smile, he presses his lips against mine. I hold his face, trying to soak up as much of him as I can. 

“I’ll miss you, don’t get in any trouble while I’m gone eh?”

“Me?” I furrow my brows “I have no idea what you’re talking about” 

He laughs, pulling me in for another kiss. 

“Okay, okay you have to go” I chuckle as the car horn continues to beep downstairs. He gives me a few last pecks and before I know it he’s gone, running down the hallway, leaving me flustered in his wake. 

I run over to the window, watching as he gets in the car and gives me one last wave. I return the gesture, blowing him a kiss that he pretends to catch as the car pulls away and disappears from my sight. 

Slinking back through my apartment I collapse lazily back into my bed, arms and legs flailed in every direction as I fall back asleep. 

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

“Hello?”

“Hi you” 

I smile as Charlie’s voice speaks like honey through the phone line. 

“Miss me already?” I tease.

“Most definitely” he replies, when suddenly the sound of excitement and hollering fills the phone.

“The deal went well then?” I chuckle at his excitement.  

“The deal went… incredibly,” he begins, trying to speak over the mens in the background “Actually, we made an ever bigger deal than we originally planned on… they want to financially support the entire business, Izzy”

“Oh my god, Charlie, that’s amazing!” I exclaim 

“I was gonna wait to tell you when I got home but… Izzy I think we’re going to move up here” 

My jaw drops as I press the phone closer to my ear to make sure I heard him right. When I don’t reply, he begins to fill in the blanks eagerly. 

“They want us to move up here Izzy, they want to support us and the whole business-“

The weight of what he’s actually saying begins to wash over me as a million questions leap and bound through my mind. 

“Charlie-“ I stutter “You’ve been there for 5 hours” I blurt out, glancing at the clock. 5 hours. That’s barely enough time to decide you want to move 3 hours away. Permanently. 

“I know, I know, but we just made the biggest deal of our lives… I’ve gotta follow this Izzy”

“Oh my god” I breathe, trying to sound excited but doing an absolutely horrid job of hiding my shock. 

“That’s not why I wanted to call you though, I think I have a proposition for you” I hold my breath. So far, I couldn’t have predicted this conversation even if I tried. I have no idea what is about to come out of his mouth.

“Well you see, I told him I wasn’t moving up here unless they set us up with a proper home because…” He takes a deep breath before blurting out his next words “I want you to come with me, Izzy” 

The second the words leave his mouth I freeze. Go with him. Did he just ask me to move away with him? Move three hours away? Away from my home. The place I grew up. Away from my job. Away from the Shelby’s. 

“Izzy? Izzy are you there? What do you think?” I hear his muffled voice asking through the phone as I snap back into reality. Heat rises up my neck and over my face as I fumble for my words. 

“What do I think?” I echo his words. I don’t know what I think. Actually, I’m thinking way to much.

“I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to pack your bags right now. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home” 

Pack my bags?

My breath quickens as do my racing thoughts and heart rate. 

“Okay, I have to go!” he rushes quickly as the shouting and hollering behind him gets louder, urging him to go and join the celebrations. 

And just like that, the phone line goes silent. I stand in the lurch for minute after minute trying to digest what just happened. I fumble for a chair,  trying to steady myself as I sit down. The whole conversation was such a rush and a whirlwind that I feel physically light headed. 

We’ve only been together for a month. 

But if I don’t move away with him, is that the end of us? We would hardly be able to visit one another during the week. And even weekends aren’t always free. Between both of our work schedules, how would we ever make time. Three hours away. That’s no short trip. If anything happened back here, I wouldn’t be able to get back in a hurry. What if Tommy got into trouble? And Arthur? What if Polly needed me? And then the most regretful, dreaded thought crosses my mind. What about Michael? 

I feel physically ill. I can’t move. I can’t do this. The phone that’s rested in my lap begins to ring obnoxiously, frightening me so badly I almost throw it clean across the room. Maybe I should. Maybe I should break the goddamn thing. 

“Shit” I hiss, running a hand through my hair as my heart pounds so hard it feels like it might just jump straight out of my chest. 

I yank the phone towards my ear, completely exhausted and flustered. 

“Izzy? Darling it’s Polly” 

I sigh, trying to calm myself down enough to sound somewhat normal and coherent.

“Hi Poll, what’s up?”

“Look don’t panic, we just need you to come down here okay”

The tight nervousness of her voice snaps me straight out of my cloudy, foggy state.

“Polly what’s going on?” I reply urgently, standing up from my chair in a panic.

“It’s alright. Just come down to the office okay? We’ve got a client here and-” she pauses as voices in the background get louder and I strain desperately to hear who is there “We just need you to go over some things”

“I’m coming now” I hang up the phone immediately. 

Something isn’t right. 

I race out the door without my coat, my hand bag, anything. I don’t even bother trying to be subtle as I run through the streets, tearing my way through people and around corners until I see the office ahead. As I get closer the fear in the pit of my stomach grows bigger and bigger. 

Polly never sounds like that. What the hell is going on. What am I about to find inside. 

The sound of sudden shouting from inside sends a crashing wave of fear and adrenaline through me as I burst into the office through the back door. What I find when I walk in sends my stomach into back flips. I freeze, almost tripping over my own feet from stopping to abruptly. 

All heads shoot towards me. Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael. They look terrified, there eyes wide with panic as they’re stood at the edges of the room, their backs practically up against the walls. And it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. My eye’s immediately fall over a man stood in the middle of the room. 

He’s standing amidst the office desks which have been flipped and smashed all over the floor. Paper is thrown everywhere. I would call him a stranger, but he’s not. I know this man. We all know this man. He is a client. Bill Rodgers. 

I have seen him a few times. Met with him. Met his wife and children. He pays donations to us once a month, in return, we look after his family if they ever need anything. A simple agreement. We do that for a lot of families around here. He’s never been overly warm. But friendly enough. And I don’t know him incredibly well. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise there is something wrong. Besides the fact that the office is a mess. With chairs, desks and tables scattered across the room. Paper work everywhere. Bill stands in the middle of it all. 

His doing I assume. 

And he is completely wasted. I can smell it on him. All the way from the door way, my nose catches the distinct smell of whiskey. It almost fills the room. You have to drink bottles of whiskey, or spend days on end inside of a pub to smell like that. Even the way he stands, head to the floor, grumbling, swaying. Muttering to himself. But that’s not even the most concerning thing. No. The most concerning thing about Mr Rodgers is not his drunken stupor. 

But the pistol that he is clutching in his hand. 

I swallow hard when I see it. I glance to the floor, where I realise they have placed all of their guns. 

He must have demanded them to drop their guns. 

What I cannot figure out, about Bill, is what the hell he wants. He has never caused any trouble. Never gotten in trouble with the law. Never betrayed us. What the hell is doing here in a drunken rage with a gun?

“Bill,” Tommy begins, his arms outstretched to him “This is Isabelle” 

I glance nervously at Tommy as he signals for me to come over to stand beside him. I rush over to his side, and he steps in front of me ever so slightly.  Bill looks up at me gravely, through the disheveled hair falling in his face.  I try to hold his eyes, staying calm and gentle. In his state, anything could set him off. 

“And what is she gonna do about it huh?” He growls “They’re dead Tommy” 

“Bill-“

“No, Tommy” he shouts “I pay you donations every month, yeah, and you look after my family in return. BUT THEY’RE GONE! THEY’RE GONE TOMMY!” His voice grows louder as he waves his arms in the air, and we all take a few steps back as we watch the pistol in his clutch nervously. 

Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. 

“Bill,” I say gently and he shoots his eyes in my direction “Just tell me what happened, and I can help you. Whatever you need. But I have to know how to help you first”

He stares at me, reluctantly, angrily, before something seems to give. 

“They’re dead” He breathes “Sarah, and my boys. I was out, and the house was robbed. They stole everything and killed my fucking family” 

My heart drops. He lost his family. All of them. This man is hurting. He is in pain.  We are supposed to provide protection. His house being robbed is something none of us could have prevented, or helped, but he has just lost his entire family, and he’s looking for someone to blame. 

I can’t believe my own actions when I find myself walking slowly towards him. I feel everyone in the room tense, as I do. This man may normally be harmless, but right now he is intoxicated and armed. And I’m walking straight into it. 

“Izzy, don’t” I hear Tommy’s voice hiss so silently I almost miss it. But I ignore him. 

“Bill, we can help you okay” I take another slow, weary step towards him treading so lightly I barely make a sound “We can find the men who did this, but I just need you to put your gun down for me”

He sways, seeming to lose his stability. The whiskey coursing through him right now must be making him see double. 

Suddenly he bursts into sobs, and I almost jump out of my skin. He sinks to the floor, falling among the debris in a pile of sobs and cries. 

Keeping my eyes firmly glued on the gun, I lower myself to his level. 

“No one can help me” he whimpers in between cries. 

“We can help you, I promise” I breathe, the stench of whiskey slapping me in the face and burning my nostrils as I shuffle closer and closer. I’m only inches away from him. Close enough to reach out and take the gun from his lose grip. With one head in his hands, and the other hanging by his side, he’s so distraught I don’t even think he would notice. 

I hear feet shuffling around me, as they all begin to reach for their guns just incase. 

I hold my breath, praying over and over again silently to myself as I extend my arm. My hand shaking as I close in on the pistol. 

But the second my skin touches his, my hand brushing the pistol ever so slightly as I almost grab a hold of it, it sets him off like a match igniting a bomb.  His giant stature lurches upwards as he roars with rage. Happening all to fast for me to comprehend, or even try to escape, he shoves me with a brute force that I’ve never felt before. He pummels me, bashing me up against the wall, the back of my head colliding with it so loudly against it that I think I black out momentarily as everything goes white. My ears, are ringing, piercing and loud and I only just begin to comprehend what’s happening when I feel his hands around my throat. 

His forehead is pressed roughly against mine, his thick breath hot and drenched in pungent alcohol as his chest rises and falls heavily. I grab at his hands, clawing desperately to try and pry them off as his grip tightens. He shakes me like a rag doll, shoving me so harshly into the wall that I’m just waiting for it to give way. He stares at me with rage, with ferocity that I have never seen before. Frozen, paralysed in fear, all I can do is stare back into them. 

The sound of gun chambers cocking all around us catches his attention, and suddenly I’m being pulled away from the wall. He spins me around, and the blow to my head as well as lack of oxygen disorients me completely. It’s not until I feel the burning of cold metal against my temple that I come back to my senses. Bill is stood behind me, one arm around my chest to keep me still, my back pressed against him. The other hand, is pressing the barrel of his pistol against the side of my skull. 

I stiffen immediately, not even breathing as he faces me towards the Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael, who all have their guns aimed at him. 

“PUT THE FUCKING GUNS DOWN OR I’LL BLOW HER BRAINS OUT ALL OVER THESE WALLS” He screams at them, his booming voice almost defeating me in one ear as he presses the pistol harder against my head. 

Tommy, Polly and Arthur drops their guns to the floor immediately. 

But Michael doesn’t budge. 

Our eyes lock, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so terrified. He is completely pale, all the blood drained from his face as he aims the gun at Bill’s head. 

“Just put the gun down” I whimper, and he shakes his head frantically, refusing to. 

“Let go of her” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice cracking and shaking.

My ears prick as Bill cocks the gun, the chamber clicking.

“An eye for an eye huh,” Bill breathes, beginning to sob again “I fucking kill her and then we’re even for you not protecting my fucking boys”  

“Bill let her go” Tommy warms, holding his arms out to him “We are going to find the men that did this and when we do, they are going to get what they deserve. But this…” she shakes his head “This isn’t the answer”

My eyes dart from Tommy back to Michael, who has not moved an inch, gun still aimed. 

“I TOLD YOU TO PUT THAT FUCKING GUN DOWN” Bill shouts at Michael, completely ignoring Tommy’s words. 

“Michael” I plead desperately, dread washing over me so heavily that I feel ill. I watch as he shakes his head, refusing. His wide open, panic strike eyes have turned glassy, and I can feel tears stinging and biting at my own eyes.  

“It’s okay,” I breathe, giving him the smallest nod I can manage with the pistol against my head “Just put it down” 

His eyes flicker between me and Bill, and I have to fight to not release a harsh exhale of relief as he lowers his gun to the ground. 

“There you go Bill, all the guns are down, now let us talk to you eh?” Tommy negotiates, trying to sound as calm and gentle as he can. But I can see his palpating jaw. His tense body. The veins in his neck bulging from holding his breath. He is the furthest thing from calm. 

For a moment I feel Bill’s grip loosen, and in my peripheral I can see the pistol fall away from my head as his arms falls to his side. 

He’s letting his guard down. 

I shut my eyes, taking a shaky breath in through my nose. 

“You’re going to find them” he growls his orders at Tommy “And when you find them, I’m going to kill them” 

“Bill…” Tommy shakes his head, trying to be as polite as possible “Bill I can’t let you do that. If you kill them, they’ll only send you to jail… just let us take care of it-“

“TAKE CARE OF IT!” He screams, and I can’t help a whimper from escaping my mouth “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF MY FAMILY. BUT YOU DIDN’T-“

Tommy opens his mouth, to try and say anything that will calm him, appease him. But once bill has been set off, there is no taming the fire that is his rage. I should have known. There is no reasoning with a drunk man. 

With a grieving man. 

“No, no, this is your fault” I feel him nodding his head behind me as he points the gun at all of them “This is your fault, and you’re the ones who are going to fucking pay. YOU’RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING PAY”

His cry is the one of a final war cry, and I know what’s coming next. 

The next moments of my life feel like they are in slow motion. Suddenly the barrel of the gun is pressed straight up against my head again as he shoves it against my temple. The last thing I see is Tommy, Polly, and Arthur lunging forward, all shouting and begging for Bill to stop before it’s to late. 

This is it.  This is the last thing I’m going to hear.  The last thing I’m going to feel is the end of a pistol pressed again my skull, before I feel nothing at all. Please let it be painless. 

A single gun shot fires into the atmosphere. 

I expect nothingness. More black. Maybe heaven. Or hell. Though I’m not ever sure if I believed in God. 

But I feel myself breathing, my chest still rising and falling. I hadn’t even realised I had squeezed my eyes shut when they shoot open to find myself still in the office. 

I’m alive.

The first thing I see is Michael. His gun aimed not at me, but at where Bill had been standing.

It wasn’t Bill’s gun that fired. It was Michael’s. 

Bill is dead.

Everything washes over me all at once. Relief. Horror. Fear. Adrenaline. My head is pounding, and entire body feels like I’m floating. Completely weak and empty. Not strong enough to stand, and having lost all feeling in my body, I feel myself collapsing to the floor. 

Right before I hit the ground, I find myself falling right into a pair of arms. All noise is muffled, and I feel completely numb as I almost completely pass out for a moment. The only thing I can hear is the throbbing and pounding of my head. It’s not until I come back around moments later that I realise whose arms I’m in. 

They’re familiar arms. Strong. Firm. I’ve felt this exact grip before. They way the seem to hold me together. I thought I had forgotten how they felt. But I still know them anywhere. 

Michael. 

He scoops me up with desperation, and I don’t know who is clinging on to who as he holds onto me like its his life that depends on it. The only thing stopping me from crashing to the floor is him. His arms has envelope me completely, engulfing me in like a safety net. Wrapping me up in a way that I’ve only ever experienced with Michael. 

My body and mind still completely disoriented, I find myself only being able to cry. That’s the only thing that comes out. With my face buried in his chest, he holds the back of my head, pressing me so close to him I can barely even breath. But I don’t care. I’m alive. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you” He chants frantically against my ear, and I can’t tell who he is trying to calm down more. Me or himself. 

Beneath his chest, I can hear his heart racing. It pounds loudly against my ear. His grip on me never lets up, he doesn’t budge whatsoever. He just holds me. Let’s me sob, staining through his shirt. Everything else fades out. Everything seems to go away. Not just Bill’s attack. It’s like the last few months haven’t even happened. Nothing else matters right now except for the fact that I’m in his arms. 

I feel a pair of trembling hands on my face and when I look up I find my eyes opening into Michael’s. His eyes are wide, panic filled and pooling with tears. As we stare at one another, it’s almost like he can’t quite believe I’m in his arms right now. Even though it’s over now, he still has residue terror all over his face. I know he thought that he was about to lose me for good. Forever. 

Up until now I’ve barely been able to take a full breath or even begin to stop hyperventilating. But something about the hold his eyes have on me begins to centre me. I feel myself being grounded. Like I’m coming back to my surroundings. Those serene blue eyes give me something to anchor to as the panic slowly but surely leaves my system. 

Without even meaning to we find our foreheads pressed to each others, his grip on my face still firm. 

“Look at me” his voice is barely a whisper, as it shakes, threatening to break completely “You’re safe”

Pulling me back into a hug, he grips onto me so tightly as if I’m going to disappear if he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to let go, because I feel like I might just break and crumble if I don’t have him holding all my pieces together.

TAGLIST 

@shadow-of-wonder

@marvelismylifffe

@saintd0lce

@haphazardhufflepuff

@peaky-things

@burnitup

@swweett-insanityyy​

@ganjeolhiddaeng​

@thoughtfulfreakalpaca

@infinitelycharmed23

@chloeforde

@ashtronomyyyy

@livingforbarnes

@cleverdreamerhoagiewolf

@elleclairez

@marvelschriss

@carezzesuigraffi

@l0tsofpennies

@siliethkaijuy

@ineedabifriend

@bloodorangemoonlight

@maiabiovillage

@yoheyyosup

@hinagiku0

@beth-winchester21

@soleil-dor

@baker151910

@cherrytop02

[dreamescapeswriting]

Songbird ~ SCB [AU] [Crossover]

A/N: This is a crossover with Peaky Blinders @yoongisdumplingcheeks ;) 

Word Count: 4,075

Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Mafia AU, Crossover

WARNINGS: Mentions of death 

Paring: Seo Changbin x Reader

You knew this was a bad idea the moment you entered the bar that night, you were supposed to be singing on the stage but your boss, Arthur Shelby, called you into the back, claiming he had 'important' business to discuss which was code for 'I'm firing you' but kindly saying it instead of telling you in a mean way. You straightened the red dress you were wearing and pushed the door open,

"Look, if you're going to fire me can you just get it over with." You said as you opened the glass door to see your boss and eight men sitting there, each of them dressed in fine black suits and now staring at you, your mouth formed an 'O' as you saw the new men with him and you quietly shut the door, you didn't have banter with the new men in the room and you knew how women should behave around men they didn't know, women should be seen and not heard as you father always reminded you.

"Y/n I want you to meet the new owners," Arthur said sitting back in his chair with a smirk on his lips rubbing his face before taking a drink from his glass, you smiled at the new men and they all began to greet you.

"I'm Bang Chan, you can call me Chris." The main one said taking off his flat cap and sticking his hand out for you to shake, you smiled and shook his hand, going to each of them and greeting them in the same way. They were all wearing flat caps but none of them were the regular Peaky Blinders gang, you could already tell by two of their accents, thick Australian accents which meant they weren't from around there and had obviously come to Birmingham for one thing, you just didn't know what that was right now but you were praying it wasn't trouble. You had enough of that already.

"I'm Changbin," The last one greeted in a cold tone, not taking off his cap or offering you his hand just staring at you and looking you up and down as you smiled politely at him trying to make a good impression and clearly failing.

"Don't mind him, he's the 'mean' one." The one that had introduced himself as Felix said, you nodded and walked over Arthur again, whispering about work and if you still had a job.

"Of course, their just taking over the books that's all." You looked over at the men with a smile and the leader leant forward in the chair.

"You will be seeing a lot of us though, so you might want to stop being so shy...especially if you're the singer?" You nodded,

"She's an amazing singer, she's just a little shy around new company," Arthur said with a giant smile across his face, placing his hand on the small of your back something Arthur always did as a sign of good faith to you, you stepped away from him as you always did and moved out of the room, going to pour yourself a glass of whiskey before you had to start your shift. You were the barmaid that everyone knew but you always performed three nights a week to keep people happy that were regulars, you took over the last barmaid that left for New York.

"So are you a whore?" You almost choked on the whiskey you were drinking and stared at the same guy as before, Changbin, who was staring at you glancing you up and down again, as if he was sizing you up. You hadn't even heard him come out of the back office,

"No, I'm not. Do I look like one?" You questioned slamming the glass down onto the counter, the door opened and the bell chimed signalling someone had walked in.

"Charlie, the usual?" You said not looking away from Changbin as you heard Charlie taking his normal spot in the first booth near the front door, picking up his newspaper that was always waiting for him.

"Yes please my dear, let Arthur know I'm here please." You hummed and poured three glasses of whiskey and a beer placing each onto a tray and walking over to Charlie who smiled up at you.

"Newbie?" He quizzed looking from his newspaper over at Changbin who was walking back into the office without glancing back at you.

"Arthur said their in charge of the books now. He's an idiot if you ask me, told me I looked like a whore." Charlie chuckled and shuffled his papers around as he sipped from the first glass of whiskey from you.

"Better not let Tommy hear you say that he'll kill him for it." You hummed and took the tray back behind the counter and slid it under the rest of them. Tommy was Arthurs younger brother but the leader of the local gang The 'Peaky Blinders' tough group of men, all family and all bite and bark.

"Tommy joining you today?" You questioned as you cleaned off the bar and trying to make small talk with Charlie, it was no use his head was in the newspaper.

"He's in London with Alife, but Curly and John are coming by, make sure you wear that black dress John loves." He teased looking over at you with a smirk on his lips, you sent him a dirty look and poured nine glasses of whiskey, taking them into the office as a sign of goodwill, smiling at each member as you placed their drink in their hands or beside them, taking Changbins and slamming it onto the desk in front of him and handing Arthurs his.

"I'll go and get ready for the show Arthur, Charlie said to tell you he's here." You said with a smile, going over to the door and waving goodbye to each of the men in the room and heading towards the staircase in the bar.

"Is Y/n singing tonight?" John asked as he came into the bar later that night with a giant smile on his face, it faded once he saw the new owners sitting alongside the bar all facing the stage area though.

"Yeah, new owners," Charlie said sliding John his beer and looking at the stage. You always performed on Wednesday nights, the same song and everyone loved it.

"They seem okay?" He questioned as he sipped on his beer but before Charlie could tell him about Changbin, Curly started playing the Piano and everyone turned their attention to you, you smiled at everyone and gave them all a small wave.

"Hi, guys I'm singing the usual song tonight, but if anyone wants to come up and sing instead I'm sure it'll be a good laugh." You tried but no one budged from their seats, you nodded at curly and he began to play the chords of the song you were going to be singing.

"I will not make The same mistakes that you did I will not let myself

Cause my heart so much misery I will not break..." The bar quietened as soon as your voice flew out throughout it, Arthur came out of his office to watch as you sang the same song.

"Because of you, I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me. Because of you, I am afraid." You sang the high notes to the best you could and you glanced around the bar, sending Arthur a smile as he held up his glass to you. Then your eyes wandered over to the new owners who were all staring at you, Changbin's mouth hanging open as you continued to hit high notes and stay stable on the stage.

"Told you she was good," Arthur said as you joined him at the bar, back in your regular red serving dress and getting ready to serve everyone their drinks.

"Too good to be working here, you should be in radio," Han said with a giant smile, you handed him his whiskey and walked over to Charlie, hugging John and Curly, Changbin watched you the whole time in awe, he'd never heard someone sing like that.

"How does she sing like that?" He questioned looking at Arthur who had also been staring at you.

"Troubles in her past, the song is about her dad who walked out on her and her mother." The boys all glanced at you before back at Arthur for more information on you. Arthur was a blabbermouth, street smart but not smart, smart, didn't know when to keep his mouth shut and who to keep it shut around.

"She's never been able to trust anyone since. We're lucky she trusts us to sing here. If it wasn't for Tommy...She wouldn't even be here today."

"Good morning Charlie, starting early today?" You questioned as he walked through the door the next morning with Curly and John his side, each of them laughing to each other.

"Came to see what the new owners were doing." He answered looking at you and then over at the office door, they'd been in there since 5 am and you had no idea what they were doing. Arthur told you to stay out of it because it wasn't a place for a woman so you cleaned up the bar and got it ready for opening time.

"Morning." You looked over to see Changbin walking over to you, dressed in a sharp suit, his hair scraped back and shaved at the sides, you smiled at him.

"Good morning sir, what can I get you?" You questioned walking over to him, you'd gone home to see Tommy waiting in your living room, telling you to be on your best behaviour for them and whatever they wanted they got.

"Just water please." You nodded and went to get him a glass of water, bringing it over and placing it in front of him.

"Anything else?" He shook his head and you went to walk away from him but he took your wrist in his hand and placed a coin in your palm.

"Water is free sir." You said to him but he shook his head.

"A thank you for the kind service." You took your wrist from his hand and placed the coin on the bar, walking away and going to give Charlie and his boys their drinks.

"You can't be too hard on him Y/n, he didn't know who you were," John said looking over at Changbin who was staring at you from across the room.

"Doesn't give him the right to call everyone he meets a whore." You spoke loud enough for him to hear you from across the bar Changbin went into the office again, leaving his water and the coin on the bar top, you rolled your eyes going over and taking the coin to the office door, you were about to knock when you heard voices and your name being mention.

"I don't care what you do with this place but Y/n stays, this is her home." You heard Arthur's voice, you peered through the glass and saw Changbin sitting across from him with Chris beside him.

"We wouldn't send her anyway, she's good at what she does. We just want new songs and new singers to perform with her."  Chan said as he leant back in his chair, drinking from the whiskey glass, you pushed the door open and walked inside, pretending to be cleaning up glasses that were already inside and slid the coin back into Changbin's lap.

"I have to leave early tonight, I'm having dinner with someone tonight." You said looking at Arthur and straightening his tie and tapping his chest.

"Dinner? With who?" He was on the defensive side again, you rolled your eyes and took the empty glasses with you towards the door,

"Who is it Y/n?" You turned on your heel to look at him, all eyes were on you in the room.

"He's just someone from around here, he's not a peaky blinder, he's a hard worker." You said with a smile, not wanting to go into detail about where he worked because you knew Arthur and Tommy wanted you out of the lifestyle and have a normal life. You weren't stupid, you knew what the peaky boys did.

The change in management was going nicely, Chris had officially bought the Garrison from Arthur and Tommy was now the manager and owner, he'd shut it down for a month to redecorate the entire place and get it perfect for new clients and you were promoted to head singer of the club.

"You're singing tonight, any special plans?" Chris questioned as you walked into the office that night, you nodded sliding him the sheet music for the night and the lyrics.

"You wrote this?" You nodded and he glanced over the lyrics again, nodding that they would be fine for the night and you left, going to find your boyfriend, you wanted to invite him over for the performance since the song was about him and you learning to trust him after the years of not being able to trust anyone before him.

"James!" You yelled running through your front door, you'd gone to meet him from work but they told you he left early and so you came to where he always was in your shared home.

"James! I have good news!" You called out opening the door and going up to the bedroom, you pushed the door open and saw him there with another woman, you looked down at the ground and tried to leave but he took hold of you, promising you it wasn't what it looked like,

"Whatever James." You walked away from him, slamming the front door behind you and not wanting to talk to him about him cheating on you, but James continued to follow you out onto the street and over to the garrison dressed in nothing but a pair of pants,

“Leave me alone James.” You said as you walked through the bar, Charlie stood up from his booth as soon as he heard your voice crack and saw the tears running down your face,

“I said leave me alone!” You screamed as he gripped your wrist, the office door opened and Chris came out to find out what was going on.

"I trusted you." You said looking at him up and down and over his shoulder, the woman he had been taking in his bedroom strolling behind him and trying to get him to go back to his house.

"I just used you to stay safe in the streets, dating someone who’s friends with the Shelby’s it was like a free pass through life." You felt her heart drop to the floor as soon as the words left his mouth, no one had spoken to you like that since your dad walked out on you all those years ago.

"I have to go." He grabbed the girl he was with and looked over your shoulder at Chris who looked as though he was ready to kill him, then over at John and Charlie who were watching him closely, their hands on their guns.

“Leave it, John, he isn’t worth it.” You said as he went to shot James but you stopped him and walked over to the door of the pub, slamming it shut and sliding down the glass.

“Take the night off.” Chris tried to tell you but you shook your head, going home right now meant having to deal with all of the emotions you were having.

Curly started playing the piano and you knew it was time to start singing, you took a deep breath and looked out over everyone in the audience, it was packed full tonight and everyone who worked for Chris was there, including Changbin who was sitting in the front row watching you on the stage. This was the first time you'd seen him since he'd apologised for calling you a whore.

"Sweet love, sweet love. Trapped in your love. I've opened up, unsure I can trust my heart and I were buried in dust. Free me, free us." You sang slowly looking out at everyone who were all staring up at you, by now they’d all heard the town gossip, news spread fast through Small Heath.

"You're all I need when I'm holding you tight, if you walk away I will suffer tonight!" You were singing properly this time and Changbin noticed, the first time he’d heard you sing was like this, you were pouring everything into the notes and he could see you tearing up as you sang along to the words you’d written.

You were walking through the pub as you sang along, Chris had convinced you that engaging with the customers would be a good idea while you were singing but it was only making you more emotional about the entire situation,

"I embrace my fears all that I have been carrying all these years. Do I risk it all." You looked at the crowd having silent tears roll down your cheeks as you noticed James and his new girlfriend through the door.

"I was terrified to love for the first time. Can you see that I'm bound in chains and finally found my way! I am bound to you! I am, ooh, I am. I'm bound to you." You let the last note go and you finally let the tears stream down your cheeks, shielding your face with your arms and trying to hide, Changbin raised from his seat and people gasped as the rest of his hang joined him. He walked over to you and helped you walk over to the office, sending your ex-boyfriend dirty looks.

"I'm sorry Chris, I thought I could do it but-" A whiskey was slid over to you and you downed it, sitting back in the leather chair and cringing as you heard something smash and a gunshot goes off.

"That will be Tommy, I called him after you came in earlier," Chris said, leaving the office most of the boys following along with him and leaving you and Changbin alone, Changbin went over and locked the door, sitting beside you in the chair and reassuringly rubbing your hand.

"You don't have to stay here, I can handle myself." You whispered it was a barefaced lie you couldn't handle yourself and both you and Changbin knew it, another shot sounded and you assumed they killed the woman he was with as well, claiming there was no need for witnesses like they always did.

"You can't, let me walk you home." He offered to help you stand up but you collapsed at the thought of going back to that house ever again.

"I can't."

"Why?" You looked up at him, your eyes bright red through the tears.

"He fucked her in my bed...I don't think I want to go home. I'll just stay upstairs in one of the rooms, Chris won't mind." But Changbin would, he didn't want you staying in the rooms above the bar, he knew how disgusting they were up there

"I would, you can stay at mine. I'll have the fireplace warmed up in the spare room and you can sleep there." You nodded, not wanting to fight anyone tonight. You got up from the chair and walked through the bar getting looks from everyone included John who was covered in blood which you assumed was your ex-boyfriends.

"Make sure she gets some sleep," Chris said as you passed him going out of the front door of the pub, going out onto the streets where Arthur was loading up the car and not paying attention to you walking by with Changbin, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you warm.

"Thanks for this." You whispered taking the glass of whiskey from his hands and sipping from it, he wrapped a blanket over your shoulders and you smiled to him.

"No problem, no one deserves to be treated like that especially you." You looked up from the glass in your hands to meet his eyes staring down at you.

"I'm nobody." You protested but he sat beside you taking your hands in his and shaking his head.

"No, you're somebody, somebody really important...to me at least." You didn't know where any of this was coming from the last time you spoke you just gave him his coins back and after that, it was just pleasant hello's and goodbye's whenever he came into the bar for a drink or to see Chris.

"What?" He shook his head at you wanting you to listen to him, he cupped your head in his hands and you leant into his palm and he rubbed his thumb along your face, smiling softly as you did this.

"You mean a lot to me...the first time I met you I was unfair for calling you or...accusing you of being a whore, I'd just never met someone as pretty as you before. Usually, someone that looks as good as you are either a whore or a married woman." You looked at him and he took the glass from your hand placing it down onto the coffee table and staring at you.

"Listen to me when I tell you this, James was nothing but low life, good for nothing scum bag who didn't deserve someone like you." You hummed along with him and he could tell you didn't believe him but you had to, you had to understand your worth.

"You're perfect, listen to me." You were staring at him now, your head squished between his hands as he forced you to look at him in the eyes.

"You're so pretty from this angle." You said out loud to him, he smirked at you as he knew the whiskey was starting to affect you and you weren't going to listen to sense now.

"You're drunk, let's get you to bed." You gripped onto his tie and shook your head.

"Stay with me, I don't want to be alone tonight." You whispered to him as you walked through the house together, up to the spare room where he helped you into the bed. You pulled him down behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Don't leave me, please." You whispered to him snuggling against him and he nodded in agreement, not wanting to move now he had you in his arms.

"You still awake?" You questioned an hour or two later, he hummed and you rolled over so you were face to face with him.

"I can't sleep." You whispered to him, looking up at him even though it was dark you could still make out the way he looked,

"Can we talk instead? Tell me stories about where you're from." You whispered snuggling up to him and laying your head over his chest, he relaxed against you and his hands went to your hair, playing with the strands as he went on to talk about Korea and how he'd met Chan, one of the biggest Gang Leaders he'd ever known.

"I meant it you know." You said as he finished his stories, he looked down at you.

"You're pretty from this angle." He smiled and you leant up leaving a kiss on his cheek pulling away and waiting for him to do something but he sat up, pulling you with him and cupping your face in his hands and studying your face, before leaning forward and kissing you on the lips, you kissed back your hand going into his hair tugging on the black ends a little and smirking as he groaned against your lips you let out a giggle and pulled away from his lips.

"You're pretty from this angle too." He mumbled back to you, running his hand over your cheek and smiling as you blushed wildly from his comment. He loved that he had that kind of effect on you and he never wanted to stop it,

"But we should get some sleep." He whispered to you and you nodded in agreement, you laid back down and laid your head on his chest. Falling asleep to the sound of his heart beating was better than awkwardly laying together in dead silence.

Tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @lynnthevirgo @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @callingmyangel @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @fan-ati--c 

[byorder-fanfic]

The Mechanical Dragon

Summary: Marion Qing was born with a spanner with her hand, and Arthur Shelby was born with a paintbrush in his. The two spend their youth in Charlie’s Yard, with Peaky caps proud on their heads. But what happens when war tears their lives apart?

Word count: 2499

Warnings: Mentions of racism, war, amputation, mental health

Author’s Note: This is an idea I’ve had for a while, and I hope I did alright. I have lots of Peaky Blinders OC one shots like this in my drafts, so look forward for some more! If I've said anything incorrect or offensive, please correct me. Hope you enjoy xx

Marion Qing was practically born with a spanner in her balled up fist. That's what her mother always proudly said to her friends, as they all watched the toddler graduate from jigsaw puzzles to pulling apart a clock that'd stopped ticking. Ever since she could walk, she had always trotted to where sparks flew and fires burnt as blacksmiths laboured over steel benches. Ever since she could talk, she had asked question after question about the hows and whys the mechanics worked. That was how she met the Shelbys. She had found her way through Small Heath to a little Yard that was thick in craftmanship and (although she did not know at the time) stolen bits and pieces she ached to tinker away at. Suffice to say, she had ran as fast as she could when a very surprised Charlie Strong found the ten year old sat on the floor, her grey dress thick in soot as she managed to work out how to fix the gramophone that had been collecting dust. Only, as she turned back to check that she wasn't being followed, she hurtled into the chest of a very surprised teenager, Arthur Shelby Jr, who had been sketching some horses from his Uncle's stables. After explaining her predicament, he had merely laughed and walked her back to Charlie, who was holding up the gramophone with an agape mouth that turned into a coy grin when he saw the girl slowly make her way back, holding hands with his eldest nephew.

"So, how'd you like a job?" He said. Although he'd deny it every time Arthur brought it up, the grumpy man managed the smallest ghost of a smile when Marion laughed and hugged him with her thin arms.

The rest is, as they say, history. Arthur had introduced her to the rest of his family, who had been more than welcoming to her. She and Tommy were the same age, and she was the best mentor for Ada, teaching the girl how to win fights against her brothers. Polly had been sceptical at first of the small girl with a loud voice and a joking personality to rival John's, but then Marion brought her a rose twisted from metal sheets she'd found, and her heart was taken with the little girl. The Shelbys had been her top defenders, fighting boys that made lewd comments and threatening to cut off the eyes from anyone who pulled their eyelids in a taunting manner. In response, she'd break the noses of anyone who threw slurs at the brothers and nearly killed one boy who'd gotten too handsy with Ada before the rest of them could lift a finger. Marion grew up like the boys, her skinny frame filling out into lean muscle and strong arms that proved she could fend for herself. She was a part of the Shelby siblings hand me down clothes cycle, always getting Arthur's old shirts and slacks that she'd have to cuff a dozen times to fit. She was permanently covered in oil and grease, which Tommy used as an excuse to avoid her plentiful hugs. Arthur, however, didn't care if he was in his Sunday best- he was already ready to drop whatever he was doing to hold the girl in his arms, coming away with second-hand stains and a big smile. When they joined the Peaky Blinders and rose their way to the top ranks, Marion had her very own razor blade cap that John had sewn for her (a little bit of his blood dried in the seams- he had nimble fingers, but it was a tricky project) as she paraded around Small Heath, safe and happy. Charlie was practically a father to her, since hers had died long ago, teaching her everything he knew and watching her learn things herself. As he got older, he'd just sit back and watch as Arthur and Marion slid under rusting cars, laughing along to their jokes and teasing that always occurred between the three musketeers of mechanics. When his sister died, Marion made him his very own frame with a black and white photo of the late Rose Shelby in. It was before the plague of Arthur Shelby Sr settled in her eyes, like death in the baby blue irises. She was shaking as she gave it to him, the only time she had, and ever will shake. She had been expecting a nonchalant reply or a little gruff huff, but he took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, whispering a soft 'thank you' in her ear.

When the boys went to war, she worked in the factory, building munitions for them to fight with. When she wasn't working, she was at Charlie's Yard to help out with the odd bit of work, and distract herself from missing the laughs of the Shelby brothers. She helped teach Finn to write when Polly was busy with business and Ada was off organising Communist meetings, and had helped him write many letters to be sent off to France. Sometimes, she'd help Martha with the kids, but she was never any good at babysitting. Rather, she fixed cribs and built a cot mobile for baby Katie. It was the second year after they'd left when the accident happened. Well, the factory called it an accident, but Marion knew it was a product of purposeful neglect and tight funds. As a particularly experience blacksmith, she'd been given the more technical work of building bombs and other explosives. One faulty piece of machinery, probably taken from Charlie instead of properly bought from a proper shop, and the trigger was set off. Thankfully, she had thrown it before she ended up all over the walls. Unthankfully, the explosion had blown her very heavy table (that was supposed to be secured onto the floor) into her. She'd trapped her leg, shrieking so the whole of Small Heath could hear. They'd had to amputate. It wasn't too bad, though. With a little bit of wood and nails, Marion had fashioned her own prosthetic. As a woman, she was used to strapping her stockings up, so, with a piece of leather, she managed to attach the limb to a sturdy garter to keep it on. She didn't go back to the factory, which had received an earful of complaints from every Shelby woman, and a lot of strong words from a red faced Finn and a morally supportive Isaiah Jesus nodding in the background. Instead, she stayed at the betting shop, doing errands where she could and fixing horse shoes and the like.

When the boys came back, they were in for a shock. Not only was little Finn taller than they remembered and Polly wasn't drinking so much, but their Marion had lost a bloody leg!

"Why didn't you tell us?" Arthur demanded as soon as he put her back on the ground. He'd picked her up and swung her about as soon as he saw her, before he realised there was a limp block where her leg should be.

"Wanted to see your face," she shrugged nonchalantly as John less-than-subtlety gawked at it, earning a nudge in the ribs from Martha. "I'm glad I did- it's a fuckin' picture, mate!"

The rest of the boys sent off to France had a similar reaction. It was the funniest thing she had ever seen when thirteen year old Isaiah and ten year old Finn were reprimanding fully grown blokes from staring at her. They'd both been there as she whittled the wood, offering to help at every single moment. It annoyed Polly endlessly, wondering why all the enthusiasm couldn't be devoted for doing errands for the betting shop. It was all false complaints, as the boys were doing something other than worrying for the next letter, and learning some useful skills, like woodwork. The boys also helped her with her surplus of jokes on the matter.

"How'd it happen?" Danny had asked the first night back, as they all sat in the Garrison, Freddie and Tommy in the middle of some sort of dispute the rest were attempting to politely ignore.

"Ah, well, it's a tragic story." She said it loudly and theatrically, clutching her chest. She no longer wore Arthur's hand-me-downs, opting for her own softer shirts that smelt fresh and new, until she spilled whiskey and petrol on it. Isaiah and Finn gave each other knowing looks. God knows how the boys managed to convince Polly and Jeremiah to let them come along. But, with two glasses of tap water and an understandable amount of clinginess to their family who had left for years, they were hardly in any trouble. 

"She barely survived," Isaiah echoed as he attempted to get even closer under his father's arm (if that was even possible), who was watching him fondly.

"She's a true hero!" Finn raised his glass like he'd seen his brothers do plenty of times before, earning a scoff and affectionate hair ruffle from Tommy, as Arthur sat back in his seat, waiting to hear more. John wasn't there, instead he was spending his first night home with Martha and the kids. He was happy to be back and more than happy to babysit every day, especially with Martha feeling under the weather recently.

"Well?" Freddie asked, resting his elbow on the back of his chair.

"It was 1916," she said solemnly. Polly and Ada shared a roll of their eyes, going unnoticed by the boys. "Business was hard, me and my ma didn't have enough money for the flat." She let her face go blank, silently praying Finn could keep his giggles in for a second longer. "So I had to get money another way."

"You sold your leg?" Tommy sounded astonished, his wide eyes believing the lie she was feeding him. Then everyone started laughing, and he rolled his eyes.

"Nah," she grinned against the rim of her glass, as the rest of them shared  snicker and a sigh and cocked their eyebrows at it. "Factory had faulty parts whilst I was building some explosives, it knocked a bench onto my leg and crushed it."

"Fuck," Danny whispered, looking at her with wide eyes. The rest of them looked at her sympathetically, a look she didn't enjoy.

"Oh well," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Guess I can join you idiots with one foot in the grave, hey?"

The Garrison was filled with laughter, Arthur bringing one arm around her as his booming voice carried through the room. They spent the rest of the night celebrating, instead of wallowing, something they were all thankful for.

Arthur was fascinated by it, always asking if it hurt or how did she make the joints move so well. Marion wasn't too bothered, happy to give him a distraction from his 'Flanders blues'. He was the only one she told about the phantom pains, and he confided in her about the nightmares, each holding on to the other in their struggles, each trying to help the other. When she asked him to paint it for her, he gave her the sweetest, wide-eyed look of astonishment that made her giggle.

"Are you sure?" He repeated that about a thousand times, more so when he actually set out the acrylics he got when he was younger.

"Yes, I'm sure," she'd always reply, with a roll of her eyes. The final result was beautiful. When Arthur had dragged her away from Charlie's Yard (cautious of the walking stick she'd been using whilst her leg was temporarily out of use), she felt excitement course through her, heart beating faster as she stumbled up the stairs to Arthur's little room. He'd sat her on the bed, leaving the stick on the floor as he turned around to show it off. She'd expected horses, as that was always the thing he'd draw the most. Instead, she saw red. From the ankle to the thigh, a scaly, scarlet creature coiled around the wood, intricately and painstakingly painted in a familiar fashion.

"A Chinese dragon?" Her voice was breathless. She'd grown up isolated from her culture, just like how the Shelby family had lost their Romani roots when their father forced them to settle. There were many Chinese families around Small Heath though, who spoke in Cantonese and Mandarin that she longed to understand, and wore pretty patterns that she envied. She'd told Arthur all this when they both got pissed on her eighteenth birthday, just a bit before Finn was born. That was the first time they'd kissed...and did other things, although they'd never spoken of it since she woke up alone.

"Yeah, I remember, y'know, that night..." he sounded unsure, eyes darting everywhere but in her eyes, hands twisting his cap together. "And, well, I thought it'd look pretty. So, I went to the suit shop, and asked for a pattern to copy. I wanted to make sure it wasn't...y'know, uh, offensive or nothin', but if it is, I can go over and try somethin' else, or-"

She cut off his blabbering with a rough kiss, teeth clattering and her giggles as his moustache tickled her. He hadn't had that at twenty one, but it wasn't an unwelcome addition. Her newly painted prosthetic sat between them on his bed, digging against her right knee as Arthur tried to pull her closer in his eager kiss. Thy broke apart, him blushing and her smiling. With an arched eyebrow, she pulled up her skirt (she didn't wear them a lot, but it made the process easier when she did), revealing to Arthur her knickers and the garter belt she'd fashioned after a few lessons from Polly, below the straps was the scarred stump, ending a few inches above where her knee once was. She noticed his wide eyes with a little bit of newfound shyness as she slipped the cushioned end around her scars, clasping the leather straps onto the belt with a few clicks.

"That's fuckin' amazing," Arthur whispered as she looked up at him. He started to blush again. "Listen, Mari, I...I want you to know that, when we were eighteen, right, and I...when we...well, I shouldn't have left ya." He sighed, looking down to his empty hands. His cap had fallen to their floor once his attention was diverted elsewhere, and he was attempting to replicate the twist of material with his rough hands. "I loved ya then. I love ya now. I just didn't know, still don't...how I'm supposed to be good enough for ya."

"You know," she said, admiring the dragon that flew up under her skirt (she was certain Finn and Isaiah were going to awe at the painting). "Just don't leave again, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, pulling her onto his lap (successfully, this time) as he kissed her again, making a silent promise to himself that he'd never let go.

[portiaadams]

Top 5 Boardwalk episodes

1. Home

IT INTRODUCES MEYER AND RICHARD! OF COURSE IT’S MY FAVORITE. But when I watched BWE for the first time, this was the episode where absolutely all the threads laid out in the first six episodes came together and the picture they wove was *shudders*. Nucky burning down his father’s house while Teddy watched; Meyer trying to play Chalky; Lucy sitting alone in the movie theater; Richard and Jimmy’s first meeting/first kill...the whole thing is just perfect. 

2. Gimcrack and Bunkum

Again, this episode felt like the point where season two came together. Boardwalk Empire has so much magical realism infused throughout the run, but in this episode it’s so *apparent*. I actually believe that Richard’s entire encounter with the dog/old men in the woods is a hallucination. He’s in the Pine Barrons for god sakes! Plus, they were so careful about hiding out-of-season shooting, but the Richard scenes positively luxuriate in the bare trees and fallen leaves. For a scene that takes place on *Memorial Day*. 

The whole episode is aces, though. Jimmy doing such a great job giving the speech, while Angela watches proudly, utterly unaware of the undercurrents with Nucky, who is glowering from the front at Jimmy’s success? The fight between Nucky and Eli? The off the charts creepiness of the Gillian/Jimmy scene in the bathroom? And I love Nucky’s plotting (it’s so smart, and I don’t always think that about his plots, although this one rebounds back on him), and I love when real-life people like Attorney General Daugherty and his, ahem, friend Jess Smith show up. But the Jimmy/Richard scenes are my favorite in the series, including the scalping of the odious Jackson Parkhurst. Never before have I cheered the death of a senior citizen.

3. Margate Sands

Season Three is very loud, and Margate Sounds starts with a beautiful montage of men dying dancing from machine-gun bullets, but the finale feels so earned. Everyone is there because of the decisions they made, both good and bad. The scenes with Eli and Nucky, especially about the car, are warm and make them feel like siblings in a way I don’t think the show always managed (Eli often felt like another neglected sorta-son, like Jimmy, which sometimes felt purposefully done and othertimes not so much). Getting Al Capone and Chalky together was *brilliant*. All the wheeling and dealing with Rothstein and Andrew Carnegie? Perfection.

And obviously, all the Tommy stuff breaks my heart, and I love the detail that he won’t go to Gillian while she’s offering sandwiches and Oreos, but runs to Richard, whom he just witnessed blowing someone’s head off. I chewed my nails off watching the rampage the first time.

Every single thing about Charlie and Meyer is outstanding in this episode. Particularly, Charlie trying to make up with Meyer in the hallway, and then the whole scene with AR/Masseria. Also, Masseria is straight-up terrifying in every scene but especially that one. Meyer talking Charlie down because if not, they are both dead? You can feel the danger they were in. 

In the end, though, Gillian broke my heart the most remembering the Commodore-and Nucky-did to her. Richard leaving Tommy with Julia (don’t get me started on Paul’s insta-redemption, the only dumb as hell moment in the whole episode) is a close second.

4. Eldorado

Mabel’s story is absolutely horrific on every level, but I think the biggest success of the flashbacks was fleshing her out. Because she was great! Bold, bright, and conniving. It made her loss so much more real. And she was particularly great in this episode, where you see that’s her own coping techniques that probably led to her undoing.

But this episode mirrors Margate Sands in such interesting ways. Nucky walking through the Commodore’s house for the first time mirrors his walk through it at the end of MS looking at the aftermath of Richard’s carnage. And watching Gillian’s story, which she relives in flashback in MS...JFC. 

Season five is Charlie’s season, and he and Meyer bring the goodness. I cheered when they finally got Narcisse. I can’t believe we haven’t got a miniseries or something, because BWE ended just as their stories heated up (Meyer taking out Nazis? Hello?).

5. Family Limitation

This episode is good for many reasons. Chicago Jimmy is the best Jimmy. Torrio was a much better mentor, who wasn’t afraid to smack Jimmy down but also celebrated Jimmy’s strengths, than Nucky. Being away from Gillian was good for Jimmy. I loved that the rich lady Margaret goes to for advice isn’t judgemental-she’s very pro-Temperance, so-but utterly practical. She gives Margaret advice about birth control. I love it.

But I love this episode for Charlie. Although his relationship with Gillian has some disturbing subtext, due to the fact he’s just a year older than Jimmy, it’s delightful all the same. And the scene where AR calls and tells Charlie, as Gillian rolls her stockings on in the bed behind him, that Gillian is Jimmy’s mother, not his wife?

I LAUGH EVERY TIME. 

Honorable mentions to basically every season two episode, a lot of season three, and the whole back end of season one.

Also-I was writing yesterday so my head is still there and as I wrote this I had to take out a whole section because Nucky isn’t actually Richard’s father-in-law. Whoops.

Thanks!

[peakybees]

My second piece of writing! Thanks heaps for the request, I kinda went on a bit of a tangent so it’s a bit different from the request, but hope you enjoy it none the less! Please let me know what you think of it! :)

Request: Could you please do an imagine were the Shelby sister is being really cheeky and naughty and one of the brothers (or Michael) have to deal with her! It would be cool to see how they would deal with this!

Ok so here’s how I imagine things:

- You’re a teenager, about 16

- Finn is your twin brother.

So you’re all at the round table in the house on watery lane. You are sitting at the table with Finn and Isaiah behind you and Ada and Aunt Poll sitting either side of you with Michael next to his Mum. Esme is on the stairs with John next to her, Jeremiah, Uncle Charlie, Curly, and Johnny Doggs and Arther adjacent to you. You’re all growing a bit restless because for SOME reason Tommy is running late. You know the meetings important, with the main topic of discussion being the company expansions and latest money schemes, which is gonna mean you and all your family are going to have to work hard for and make sacrifices. SO bearing in mind the importance of the meeting, just imagine everyone’s shock when your second oldest brother strolls in with Grace by his side. You roll your eyes, Grace doesn’t notice but Tommy certainly does, he gives you his BEHAVE look, to which you just glare back at him. Tommy starts talking, stating the purpose of the meeting, but before he can keep going, you interrupt. “ So if this is an important family meeting why is SHE here?”. Arther looks rather affronted, he’s not used to his little sister speaking like that, especially towards her older brothers. Polly smirks looking at you and then to Tommy (she doesn’t like Grace either). But Tommy just does his signature over it™ look at you and continues “Well y/n, Grace is part of the family, being my partner and all”.

You are not satisfied with this answer, AT ALL, bc didn’t this woman spy on your family? Break Tommy’s heart? Show a general lack of respect for your family? AND was the reason Ada’s husband was taken by police from her just after she’d had Karl?

“She’s no family of mine” you say quietly under your breath, but Tommy still hears it. “If you’ve got something to say y/n, say it now,“ he sternly says while glaring at you. He seems to think you won’t, but still, you sassily repeat exactly what you said while having a stare-off with him. The rest of the family only watches on as the two siblings stare at each other, the tension so thick you could cut it with a razor.

Tommy’s jaw tense for a second, but then he recomposes himself and says cuttingly “well y/n, it seems you are not yet mature enough to sit in on these meetings since you have no respect for my Grace and her important place in this family, perhaps you should sit this one out, and grow up a bit”. Grace smirks at this and puts her arms around Tommy while looking at you smugly. Finn and Isaiah sit there bracing themselves for the storm you’re about to unleash, while John and Ada glare at Tommy, both struggling to believe the audacity he just showed, with him putting Grace above you. Polly starts “Thomas!”, but before she can get any further, you pipe up. “You know what Tom, maybe I don’t want to be here anyway considering you seem to use the term ‘family’ so loosely. And you know what? Ever since she’s been back in birmingham it’s like I don’t even know you, it’s like you’re not even being my big brother anymore”. Tommys is taken aback by this. Grace starts to cower behind Tommy as the rest of your family give her death glares. “y/n” he calls out to you, but you’ve already stood and made your way out of the room, the tearful choke you let out not being missed by anyone in the room. Tommy sighs and steps away from Grace. “You know what, she’s dead right” Finn says as he stands to follow you, with Isaiah right behind him. “You went too far this time Tom” John gruffly says as he follows the two boys. The rest of the family get up one by one all glaring at Tommy and Grace as they leave too, leaving them alone at the table.

John finds you, Isaiah and Finn in your room, with the boys sitting each side of you comforting you as you cry. John enters and kneels in front of you, taking you in his arms as you begin to sob. “It’s alright my girl, you were totally right, Tommy was out of line, that grace womens been blinding him lately, but he don’t mean what he said to you though”. You mumble an acknowledgement as your sobs slowly quieten. All the while Tommy stands outside your door having sent Grace away, realising how wrong he was as he listens to you cry. ‘Too far, way too far’ he thinks to himself angrily.

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

All Is Fair Ch. 18 Midnight Revelation

Tommy goes into a spiral, and Ada discovers that he does indeed have (gasp) feelings. Buzzkill Jenny runs into the only woman on earth who dislikes Tommy as much as she and brings Tommy some Christmas cheer. Tommy has a midnight revelation that could change everything!

“She sees things, Ada,” he drawled between sips of his drink. “Things that I’d rather her not.”

Ada pulled on the fingers of her gloves to loosen them. They were red leather, the same color as her lipstick, Tommy noticed. Once they were off, she folded them and put them into the pocket of her coat, blue cashmere, the same color as her eyes. The same color as his. “What things, Tommy?”

“Things in me. Things I don’t want anyone else to see.” he wiped his hands over his eyes, “I don’t want anything to happen to Charlie...and if something happens to me, he has to be independent…” He stopped mid-sentence and poured another whiskey.

“Has something happened that you need to tell us about?” she asked, notes of concern apparent in her voice. She had seen her brother like this before, and it usually ended in days of drinking and isolation.

“No. Nothing like that.” He averted his eyes and sighed. “Don’t make me say it.”

Understanding settled over her like a fog, and she nodded her head. “Oh. The guilt about the past.” She pressed her lips together for a moment then began again. “We all see that, love. Me, Aunt Pol, Arthur.”

“Why haven’t you said anythin’?”

“I don’t know; It’s this family. We all see things, but we let them slide. We aren’t exactly the type to talk about our feelings.” She smiled softly. “I do the same with Karl. It's different with boys and their mums, I suppose. I keep him at arm's length, but then I feel guilty and overindulge him to make up for it. I’m turning him into a right brat.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Ada let him move at his own pace. He so rarely opened up about these things, and she knew better than to press him. He looked to Ada as his intellectual equal, and she matched him in sophistication, but lately, it seemed that he turned to her as a sounding board for his emotions. Odd, that Ada would be the one to truly understand him.

In the interval, he handed her a glass and they sat down, each on either side of his desk. He seemed to relax. The weight of his worries temporarily abated or at least lessened.

“She wants me to spend more time with Charlie.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” she mused. “Take him with you to London. Put him in a day school.”

“You sound like her. Has she talked to you about any of this?” He was on his feet again, reaching for a cigarette and turning to face the window, tension creeping like the tendrils of a vine and wrapping around his shoulders. “Because it will be all well and good until she’s gone and he is stuck with me.”

Ada’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open slightly. She tilted her head just a fraction and stared at the back of his him with such determination that he had to have felt it. “Who says she’s going anywhere, Tom?”

He held on to the windowsill so tightly that his hands became numb. His breath fogged the glass, obscuring the leaden sky from view. He wanted to imagine a life with Lia, but she wouldn’t stay. She would break under the pressures of “the life”, or he would drive her away with his black moods. Either way, he couldn’t imagine a bright young thing like Lia being doomed to a life with him. If he really loved her he wouldn’t …

“Tommy! Answer me. She loves you. She knows who you are, and she still loves you. If you are just keeping her as a pet, I swear I’ll—“

He turned, interrupting her, “No, Ada. It’s not like that. I don’t want her to end up miserable, or hurt—“

“If you drop her she’ll be devastated—“

“—or killed, Ada! I don’t want her to end up like Grace.”

Ada’s face fell. Her mouth, which had been open and ready to admonish him, closed and became small. Sometimes she forgot that her brother had feelings that were present tense. Tommy seemed to couch all of his emotions in the past: guilt, regret, the pain of losing Grace, and the terror of the war. These were all spectres of things gone by. The present, Ada thought, was the hard shell that the past had built around him and the broad shoulders that could carry the whole family’s weight. She felt her heart breaking for him because she knew that he was right. There would always be danger in being a Shelby or loving a Shelby.

“Talk to her. Before you come up to London, Talk to her. If she has all the facts, and she still wants to stay,” Ada sighed and put her arms around her brother and settled her chin on his shoulder, “you have to let her. You deserve love.”

***

It was Christmas Eve, and Tommy had driven into Small Heath to put in a few hour’s work before trimming the tree with Ada, Karl, and Charlie. He was always amazed at how much he could get done in the crisp silence of an empty office. The telephones were quiet in their cradles, no one was piling more papers into his inbox, and there were no appointments on his calendar, which made it all the more odd that he heard someone tapping at the door to the main entrance.

He went into the front room and used the barrel of his revolver to move the curtains by the door. It was Jenny. For a moment, panic flashed through him because he figured she would only seek him out if something had happened to Lia, but her demeanor was calm, almost businesslike. He put his gun away and rearranged his jacket to cover it, smoothed his hair back, and opened the door.

“We need to have a talk,” Jenny barked out as she crossed the threshold, hardly affording Tommy a glance.

Tommy secured the door and extended his arm to show her the way. Jenny walked ahead of him, straight into his office, and after refusing his offer of a drink she informed him that what she had to say wouldn’t take long. He motioned toward a chair, but she remained standing as he took a seat and lit a cigarette. Her chilly attitude was beginning to surpass the bounds of his hospitality.

“Alright then, what’s on your mind, Miss Montrose?”

Jenny folded her arms and leveled a glare at him. “Just now, at the Christmas Market, I ran into someone who knows you.”

“Is that a fact?” He spoke with practiced boredom that was meant to reduce the self-worth of the person he was addressing. He shuffled the stack of papers on his desk and surveyed her over the tops of his glasses. Rather than deterring Jenny from confronting him, it spurred her on.

“Yes. She knows you very well. Her name is Esme Shelby. Ring any bells?”

His mask of indifference slipped a fraction at the mention of his sister-in-law’s name, but he recovered quickly. “And how is my dear sister-in-law?”

“She had some interesting things to say about you. Said if I cared anything at all for my cousin, I would drag her away from here and away from you.”

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Our Esme always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“She said that your soul was like a charnel house,” Jenny spat. “That you carried the deaths of the innocent on your conscience, and that debt would be paid with the blood of those that you love. She said that you would never have peace.”

His indifference turned to darkness then. He dropped the papers in his hands and his eyes snapped up to hers. He heard echoes of the words Esme told him on the day that John died. He glared, unseeing, at Jenny, grinding his teeth and ruminating over the root of all his losses when he realized that she was still talking. He had to regain control.

“...I can’t convince her to leave you, but you could do the decent thing—”

Tommy gulped his whiskey and shook his head as he interrupted her. “Jenny, I’m a soldier.” He waved his hand dismissively as he continued, “The ones you are speaking of are all in the past, but they all knew the risk. Just like a soldier or that copper with whom you are recently acquainted.” Menace flashed in his eyes for a split-second. “You take the King’s shilling and he expects you to kill...or be killed. They call it an occupational hazard.” He extended his arms and surveyed the luxury of the room. “As you can see, my razor gang days are all in the past.”

Undeterred by his speech, Jenny stepped closer and leaned forward with her fists on Tommy’s highly polished mahogany desk.“What about your driver, eh? Did he take the King’s shilling just last week?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and his fingers went white on his glass of whiskey while she continued to needle him. “What about Mrs. Shelby? Did she know the price she would pay? How long before Lia has to earn her shilling and be added to the souls that hang ‘round your neck?”

Tommy was just superstitious enough to believe in speaking things into existence, and Jenny had given voice to his worst fear. It was one thing for him and Ada to discuss his fears in the darkened warmth of his study, but he could not abide by this. Any semblance of cool fell away from him as he slammed his whiskey down and shouted, “That’s enough!”

Jenny scrambled backward. Her face, twisted into a sneer only moments ago, went blank and lost all color.

White-hot anger ripped through his body, propelling him out of his seat and around his desk where he continued to shout. “You have no idea what you are talking about!” He pointed at the door, “Take your accusations and your talk of spirits and leave while you still can see!”

Jenny backed toward the door, keeping her eyes on Tommy, who stood with one arm still raised, finger pointed like a gun toward the door and the fist of his other hand clenched, visibly shaking with rage. Before she turned to leave, she managed to speak with a shaking voice, “You are burning up with madness because you know I’m right.”

***

The tree was trimmed, cookies and whiskey were warming on the hearth for Father Christmas, and the boys were tucked up safe in their beds when Ada, at last, sank into an overstuffed chair to wait for her brother. He had gone into the other room to call Moss as soon as the boys’ feet hit the stairs, and he was still in there. She could only imagine why Tommy would choose Christmas Eve to call one of the coppers on their payroll. As far as she knew, business was good; Tommy, however, was not.

Tommy had come home from the office in a strange mood. He said and did all the right things as they tramped through the woods to cut greenery, mistletoe, and holly for the house. They lit the candles, draped garlands, took tea in the sitting room, and ended the night with storytelling and laughter. But in the spaces between, she could tell that something was on his mind. It was in the way she caught him staring off into space, and the way his smile sometimes wouldn’t reach all the way up to his eyes. She had chalked it up to the things they had talked about the night before, but now that he was on the phone with Moss she wasn’t so sure. She alternated between crunching on pieces of ice from her whiskey and straining to listen as wisps of conversation floated from the other room. The longer she sat, the more uneasy she felt. When the clock chimed 12:00, she was fed up with waiting for whatever crumbs of information Tommy was apt to throw to her.

Just then, he slipped into the room on quiet feet, with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging down.

Ada stretched and announced, “Okay, Tom. Out with it. If you are going to tell me something, tell me. I am exhausted, I’ve had a long day of chasing after my son and yours, and I am not in the mood to tiptoe around until you are sufficiently ready to tell me what is going on.”

He lifted his head and gave her a slow smile. “I’ve made a decision. I’m getting married.”

Well, Well, Well. In classic Tommy "The Revolution Stopper" Shelby fashion, he simply announces that he is getting married. When did he decide that, and WTF happened on the phone with Moss? I will answer those questions in the next chapter.

Jenny is really (annoyingly) looking out for her cousin's well being, but her good intentions are not wanted in this fic. She can fuck off or lose her eyes, right?

Also, Esme is back in town and talkin' shit about Thomas! I can't say that I blame her—she has her reasons. I haven't totally decided if this is just a cameo appearance or if she should stick around for a while. What do y'all think?

Masterlist

[queenbirbs]

the way home | Ch. 3 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 3,417

Warnings: language, violence, mention of blood

Read from the beginning or continue on Read on AO3 

Tag list: @writinghereandthere ------

Whatever Robert says or does against Rhodes seems to work.

For the next week, as they hop from island to island, he gives Elena a wide berth. It doesn’t stop the death glares he gives her on the regular, but she’ll take those over him dropping a sack over her head and kidnapping her, as her nightmares depict. 

He can’t ruin today, though. The next outpost is St. Sylvain -- finally, a place where Elena has contacts of her own. Well, Charlie’s, she considers, which brings that familiar rush of heartache. She misses her best friend; misses her snarky, carefree attitude; misses her crude jokes and compassionate heart. Though Robert tries with his sarcastic tongue, he can never measure up to Charlie’s quick wit. 

As soon as the ship docks, Elena is off, flapping a hand at Robert’s reminder to only ask for information from those she trusts. Down the gangplank and across the port, she makes her way into the open-air market and searches along the rows of brightly-colored stalls. As if no time has passed, Bronte leans out from her own stall and waves at her as she approaches. 

“Ah, the fiercest pirate in all the seven seas!” she crows, her wrinkles creasing as she grins. “You’re Charlotte’s friend, aren’t ya? She’s been looking all over for ya.” 

“She has?” Elena asks, tightly clenching the leather strap across her chest.  

“O’course. She was here…” she trails off, tapping a finger against her stall as if counting up the days in her head. “...oh, sometime before the big storm. Was makin’ her rounds of the place, askin’ if ye’d been around.” 

“Did she say where she was headed?”

“Afraid not.” Settling her weight across the table, she opens her mouth, then pauses to squint at something along the market. Elena glances over her shoulder, but spots nothing of interest among the crowded stalls. “But here -- let me give ye something.” 

Bronte bends down and heaves up a basket of what looks like knitting supplies, clicking her tongue as she digs through it. Sweeping her hair to one shoulder, Elena keeps watch of the market until the older woman hums a noise of victory. She pulls out a makeshift cross, bound with red thread. “‘Tis made from the twigs of a Rowan tree. Keep it on yer person. It’ll offer ye protection from evil spirits on yer journey.” 

Given her recent history, Elena’s made a point to avoid picking up any old object. But she doesn’t want to seem rude, and who is she to argue against something that will bring protection? Taking the charm, she tucks it into the pocket of her coat.

“Thank you -- for the protection, and for speaking with me.” 

Bronte smiles at her once more. “If I see young Charlotte, I’ll be sure to send her yer way.”

------

The rest of the day is a wash. 

Her stop by the St. Sylvain Inn to speak with Mary takes the better part of an hour. Most of that time, however, is taken up by helping Mary toss out an unruly guest. What little chance at conversation they manage to have, Elena finds that her knowledge about Charlie’s whereabouts is limited. 

“She asked if I’d seen you, actually.” Mary’s face brightens at the memory, before she bites at her lip and frowns. “But this was months back. Certainly well before the hurricane.”

At the blacksmith’s, Elena wanders around the shop as the man there speaks with a customer. They hem and haw over the fine details of a new gate, going back and forth about prices. She bides her time by looking at a row of gleaming blades. One of the daggers catches her eye for the level of details carved along the hilt; it reminds her of the pistol Charlie gave her, all those years ago. The customer eventually leaves, having refused such a high cost for ‘such subpar craftsmanship.’

“What can I do for ye, ma’am?” the blacksmith calls out to her, wiping away the sweat on his face. “Interested in anything?”

Elena leaves the wares and crosses the room to be heard above the roar of the forge. “No, sorry. I was wondering if Tripp was working today?”

The blacksmith turns back to his project, tapping at a piece of glowing metal with his hammer. “He don’t work here no more.”

“Oh. Do you know where he works now, then?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No.”

“Do you know where I can--”

He slams the hammer down and a burst of hot sparks flares up into her face. The sword is in her hand and at his throat before she realizes it -- and before the man has the attempt to lift the hammer in defense. 

“Listen, alright.” He licks his lips and eyes the sword’s gleaming edge. “He left about three months ago. Said that he was going to try and head back home.” 

“Where’s that?” she snaps, though she eases the sword back a few inches to give him the illusion of space. 

“I don’t-- maybe, maybe St. Fisher, or England. I dunno, I never asked. All I know is that he went off, and I haven’t seen ‘im since.” 

Elena flicks her sword away and slides it back into its scabbard, suppressing her smirk at the man’s audible breath of relief. Brushing past another woman on her way out, she starts her trek back to the market to try any other of Charlie’s contacts. She’s nearly reached the main drag when there’s a voice from behind her. 

“Is yer name Elena Montgomery?” 

Elena spins around to face the stranger. It’s the woman from the shop, her auburn hair matted to her neck from the heat -- and, presumably, from chasing Elena down. Her accent is similar to Kendrick’s, her voice low and rich. 

“It is. And you are…?”

“Oh, sorry -- I’m Fran.” She shifts the satchel she carries from one shoulder to the other, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, too, for chasing after you like that. I saw you at the inn, talking with Mary. Are you looking for Edward Mortemer?” 

“I am.”  

“I just met a lad who talked about doing business with him.” 

“When?”

“Two hours ago or so, I think. I was out near the market and we struck up a--”

“No, when did he see Edward?” Elena clarifies.

“Oh.” Fran’s nose scrunches up as she tries to recall. “I think he mentioned it was o’er the summer? I’m not for certain. I can take you to him -- if he’s still at his stall.”

It’s too good to be true. After weeks of searching, a lead like this doesn’t just fall into her lap. She would be a fool to go with some random woman, despite how cute she is. But she can’t turn her back on an opportunity like this. 

“Yes, please,” she all but begs. 

Fran guides her through the streets, clearly a local in her knowledge on how to avoid the congested areas. She isn’t much for talking, which Elena appreciates, as she’s too caught up in her own thoughts. Even if this man saw Edward over the summer, does that mean it was here, or somewhere across the globe? If it was over in Portugal or the Philippines, then what the hell is she supposed to do? What if she returned too late? What if Edward, Charlie, and the crew were one of the twelve ships lost in the storm? Elena fiddles with the necklace, worrying the chain in between her fingers. She knows the risk of using the whistle again -- but she will, if it means saving their lives from such a fate. 

“That’s a pretty charm you have there,” Fran says, breaking the silence between them. “A bit odd-looking, but pretty.”

“Thanks.” Feigning a smile, Elena tries to subtly tuck it back into her shirt.

They reach the market soon enough. Along with Bronte’s, most of the stalls are boarded up or packed away. Out in the harbor, strong winds batter at the ships’ flags and rigging. Thick clouds roll along above the island, warning them of the approaching storm. Across the horizon, lightning dances atop the white-capped waves. Fran continues down to a covered section of the wharf, shadowed by a large building for ship repairs.

“Tommy! You still here?” she calls out as they round the next corner. 

Tucked back along the building are a few more stalls. Their choice in location isn’t lost on Elena. This is where other sorts of deals take place. If it weren’t obvious from the grizzled men that leer at them, the crates of pistols, bolts of fine lace, and casks of wine are enough of a statement on their own. 

“Aye, I’m here.” 

Dread rings its alarm bell loud and clear inside her skull when Rhodes steps out from the group of men. From the corner of her vision, Elena sees several more men approach her from behind. “Very good,” Rhodes croons at Fran, dropping a few coins into her waiting palm.

“I also snagged us this. Figured we could rough it up a bit and pass it off as the Bonnie Prince’s.” From her satchel, she pulls out the dagger Elena eyed at the shop. “And that charm she’s wearin’, that could go for a fair bit o’ coin.” 

The roof groans under the sudden onslaught of rain. Shoddy patch jobs let some of the water through, soaking the dry earth under their feet. Taking the blade from Fran, Rhodes tosses it between his hands, eyeing Elena all the while. That crooked smirk of his widens.

“Fran speaks the truth, ya know. I spoke with your captain not long before the storm. He told me a lovely tale about how he’s sailed the world looking for his love. It brought tears to my eyes, it really did.” 

“Touching,” Elena all but spits back at him. She lifts her chin to keep her eyes on his. Her hand hovers above her sword’s hilt.

“Too many heartless bastards out there, he said, trying to pull one over on ‘im.”

Her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. “And you’re going to be different?” 

“O’course. He’s been chasing after lies for far too long. The lad wants proof.” Rhodes strikes; he throws an arm across her chest and slams her back into the wall. Her face smacks against the rough stone; she tastes blood on her tongue. “So, I’m going to slice off one of those pretty fingers of yers, and if he don’t respond to that, I’ll keep sending him more until he--”

Elena spits in his face. He reaches to wipe it away and she ducks under his hold, using the muddy ground to slide from his next punch. Knocking his arm away, she slams her fist against his kidneys. Rhodes collapses to one knee and growls out a long string of curses.

“Send him one of yours instead,” she snarls.

Swiping the dagger from his hand, she twirls it and grips it tight before seizing his other hand. The blade slices clean through three of his fingers. His howl of pain disappears under a loud clap of thunder.

“You fucking--”

His insult never lands. With a quick snap of her knee, she knocks his head into the wall. He collapses in a heap, mottled with blood and muck. Elena bends down and wipes the blade on a clean patch of his shirt. 

When she stands up, she finds Fran gone and the other men watching her from a few yards back. Sliding her new dagger into the sheath at her breast, she throws the men a mock salute and heads out into the storm. 

------

She’s woken by the smell of blood. 

Her hand goes up to attend to her nosebleed before she realizes the scent is a memory from her nightmare, the last dredges of it lingering in the confines of her quarters. Not wanting her bunkmates to wake to the sound of her crying, Elena climbs out and heads for the deck. With the skeleton crew this late at night, she has no trouble sneaking past them to reach her corner of solitude at the stern.   

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s aboard the Revenge. The salty ocean breeze and the rhythmic swaying of the ship could fool her so easily. When she opens her eyes, though, there is no Henry badgering her about trying his latest creation; no Charlie sauntering up with a bottle of rum; and no Edward drawing invisible lines between the stars to teach her the constellations. 

The same stars she’s looking up at now, knowing that somewhere out there across the sea, he might be gazing at them, too. 

The small pinpricks of light start to grow fuzzy. Elena folds her arms against the railing and buries her head in them, trying to muffle her crying. The idea of spending another month chasing after Edward is frustrating to no end. If this was her own time, she could just hunt him down on social media or track him down with a PI. Maybe it would be better if she planted her ass down on an island and waited for him, at this rate.    

“Are you bawling because you killed him?”

Elena jolts up in surprise. Her ribs smack against the railing. Rubbing a hand over them to soothe the ache, she turns and glowers at Robert. 

“I don’t remember inviting you to my pity party.”

“You didn’t. I crashed it.” Moving to stand beside her, he spends a long minute overlooking the dark ocean in front of them. Once she’s finished with trying to hide her tears, he asks again. “So, did you?”

“No.”

“A shame.” 

Captain Delaney was the only one to ask about Rhodes when he didn’t return. When no one else responded, Robert mentioned that he decided to take a position on another ship. The lie -- and the fact that no one cared all that much for the man anyway -- seemed to work. Delaney promoted another sailor to Rhodes’s position, and that was that.  

“I should’ve listened to you,” Elena laments, not-so-subtly wiping her tear-stained sleeve against her face. “This woman approached me and said she had information about Edward. I was baited -- hook, line, and sinker.” 

His hands clench tight around the railing. “Love can make you do stupid things.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Aye, actually, I am.” 

“Bullshit,” she says. “You’ve never once mentioned someone important. You only wanted to come back for the freedom, the adventure -- you said so yourself. And I understand that, I really do. The adventure is why I stayed in the first place. I could’ve snuck into Edward’s cabin or seduced him for the compass like that,” she snaps her fingers for emphasis, ignoring Robert’s snort of disbelief. “But once I had the chance… I stayed. It became about more than the thrill of it.”

“Why is it that you younguns think love is only for the thirty-and-under crowd?” 

“‘Younguns’?” Elena repeats with a grimace. 

“I was trying out some of yer Texas slang.”

“Nobody says that.” When he opens his mouth to protest, she holds up a hand. “Okay, nobody who didn’t fight in the fucking Alamo. But -- seriously, I want to know. Is there someone…?” she trails off, encouraging him to open up. 

Robert lets out a long, ragged sigh before digging into his coat. The compass in his hand is set into a simple wooden box, much less ornate than the previous one. Cradling the compass close to shield it from the wind, he digs a fingernail into a hidden switch and a small compartment slides open from the bottom. A twist of raven-colored hair falls into his palm, tied with a tiny length of twine. He traces his thumb across the coarse texture, his breathing unsteady. 

“His name is Julien. We met in Panama City while searching for Sir Francis Drake’s treasure that he stole from the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción. Though we never did find the gold, we ended up running a ship together and stealing some of our own.” Without glancing down, Robert slips the lock of hair back into the compartment and snaps it closed. It’s telling how reflexive it is, as if he repeats the move a hundred times a day. “We didn’t want to deal with the Spanish anymore than we had to, so we sailed to St. Lucia. ‘Twas run by France at the time, and our contact out there bragged about running a smuggling route right under their noses. But when we arrived, we found him in a gibbet. He’d been there a good while. Julien only knew ‘twas him from the ugly, purple trousers he wore.”

Having seen the skeletons hanging along some of the ports, Elena is thankful she missed seeing the late stages of decomposition. “Not long after, we were captured by the French. We managed to escape, but were forced to separate in order to get our crew out. Being French himself, Julien had a better chance at disguising himself as a local. The last I saw of him was when he went back in to retrieve Charlie. And then,” he pauses to clear his throat, “she came out and he didn’t, and we had to escape the island or risk getting caught all over again. And his attempts would’ve been for nothing.”

Elena wants nothing more than to wrap her friend in a hug. Knowing that he’s not big on physical touch, though, she gives what comfort she can by placing her hand alongside his on the railing. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“O’course you didn’t, because I never told you. Even in the future, there are places where our relationship would be met with the business end of a pistol.” Robert shrugs at the idea, but she can see in the set of his jaw how angry it makes him. “But even after I gained your trust and you told me about your past relationships, I felt like I still needed to keep him a secret. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“Tell me about him,” she requests.

With a quiet chuckle, Robert shakes his head. 

“There isn’t enough time in the day to describe him, and I’m not one to wax poetic. But he is… kinder than me, certainly. A better shot than me, too. He’s the one who taught Charlie everything she knows. The chain I gave you, that’s for him.” He puts a hand up when Elena immediately reaches up to return it. “No, no -- that whistle is much too important. The chain isn’t the… I’ve already gotten a new one. I was hoping -- I have my grandfather’s ring that I would like him to wear. If he agrees, o’course.”

She suppresses the smile that wants to form at seeing Robert flustered. 

“You’re referring to him in the… do you know if he’s alive? Where he is?”

“The last confirmed sighting of him was three years ago in Curaçao, a small island off the coast of Venezuela.”

Her brows knit together as she studies him. “Then why are you here, in the north?”

His shoulders sag with the weight of his sigh, though she can see the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. 

“Because I made you a promise, remember? Last year, when we tried our hand at stealing the sceptre from the Crown Room. The only reason I’m not locked up in some Scottish ‘House of Special Purpose’ is because you came back for me. And I told you that I would stay by yer side until we found Edward.”

“I mean, if I had left you there, you would’ve just ratted me out as an accomplice.”

That gets a proper laugh from him. “True enough, but I’ll wager the thought never crossed yer mind, did it, kid?” Her small shrug is enough of a confirmation for him. “Julien’s somewhere out there, waiting for me,” he assures. “The man has the patience of a saint. So, I’ll be sticking with you ‘til then. Make sure you get home safe and all that.”

Annoyed at the night’s second round of tears trying to make their appearance, Elena keeps her eyes on the whitecaps in the distance. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” In a rare show of friendship, Robert knocks his elbow against hers and jostles her from the railing. “Seriously, don’t. I do have a reputation to uphold.”

------

References:

The “House of Special Purpose” is another name for the Ipatiev House, where Emperor Nicholas II, his family, and members of their household were executed in 1918. To my knowledge, there is no Scottish version -- mostly because MI5 operates out of the Thames House in London.

[aniray]

A Different Kind Of Love

I wrote a thing for Tommy and Lizzie because I need more of them in the world. Be gentle, please. This is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders. But I gave it my best shot.

~*~*~

Lizzie had never been one to envy others.

When the other girls had new dresses or shoes, Lizzie didn’t mind. When her father sent her out in a too-short dress and not her sister, Lizzie didn’t wish to switch places. No, she was simply glad for what she had because she learned early that even a little could become nothing if you spent all your time wanting something more. But there was one time- just one in her life- where she felt true envy.

The day Grace Burgess walked down an aisle and became Grace Shelby.

It made something twist inside of Lizzie that she’d never felt before. And it didn’t fade after Grace’s death. It only seemed to get worse. Because no one saw Tommy the way she did. No one saw him the nights he slept in the office talking to a picture that would never talk back. And for Grace to still have so much of him even in her grave… Yes, Lizzie had envied Grace Shelby.

But not anymore. -

The party was a smash. All the toffs that Tommy hated were there. The women were dressed in gowns that Lizzie had only dreamed of during her days as a whore. The men spoke of bets they’d won worth more money than any man should be allowed to have. Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and Lizzie… Lizzie had taken the first chance to slip away from it all.

Slipping into Tommy’s office had been like taking a breath after being underwater too long. The noise of the party was faded and she could slip her heels off without breaking some rule she didn’t care about. She had never thought that her biggest complaint after marrying Tommy would be the parties. But then, she had never thought much about being married to Tommy. Some fantasies were too impossible to indulge in.

Lizzie allowed herself five minutes before brushing the skirt of her dress free of any wrinkles and slipping her shoes back on. She opened the door of the office with her head high. Appearance was everything- especially if your name was Shelby. She stepped out into the hall, the music and voices once more surrounding her. She hoped that Charlie and Ruby weren’t still awake from the noise.

Stepping around the staircase, the great room came into view. Her eyes scanned as much of it as she could, trying to spot any members of her husband’s family. But a hand grabbed her arm and jerked her backwards. As she tried to catch her balance the cold edge of a blade landed against her throat. The hand that had pulled her backwards quickly covered her mouth.

“You do what I say or those two little ones will be getting measured for coffins.” Lizzie’s entire body tensed at the thought of losing Charlie or Ruby. The man behind her pressed the blade deeper, nudging her to walk towards the dining room. “Now, you’re gonna get your husband to come out here. No fuss, nice and easy. Alright?” A nod was all she could manage, fear strangling her words.

Lizzie forced her feet to move forward. She kept her eyes on the open door of the dining room. And as she got closer she heard Tommy’s voice above the pounding of her heart. The deep rumble of his voice made something snap inside of her. Suddenly her fear was melting- giving way to anger. Because this stranger had come into her home. This man had threatened her children. And now he was using her as bait to trap her husband.

The man kept her to one side of the doors, wrapping his arm painfully tight around her waist. She heard Tommy speak to Frances, heard him ask when dinner would be served. It was a question Lizzie would have been asking if not for her current predicament. The blade had warmed against her skin, almost burning her now, it seemed like.

“Tommy?” Frances paused mid-sentence. The click of men’s shoes moved closer to the door. And Lizzie wanted to say something. She wanted to warn him. But she was a mother first and a wife second. She kept quiet. Stumbling backwards as her attacker moved further into the shadows, Lizzie felt a drop of liquid trail down her neck as a sharp sting bit at her throat. It distracted her enough that she didn’t see Tommy step out of the dining room.

But she saw the moment his eyes found her. She watched him take in the knife and the arm around her waist. She saw him peer at the faceless man- saw him recognize him. “Lizzie, you alright?” She moved to nod, but froze as the blade pressed in. somehow she managed to croak out an affirmative reply. Not that Tommy believed her for a moment. “My wife is not involved in my business. Let her go.”

But that was apparently the wrong thing to say. For no sooner had the words left Tommy’s mouth than the man moved. The arm around her waist was now at her neck, cutting off precious air. And the knife was digging into the soft flesh over her stomach.

“No. No, Mr. Shelby I can’t do that.”

Lizzie’s eyes fell to the knife at her gut. If the man said anything else, she didn’t hear it. If Tommy was speaking, she had no knowledge of it. Because all she could see was the spot of blood surrounding the tip of the blade. All she could hear were the chiming of funeral bells- her funeral bells. The scent of Ruby’s soap invaded Lizzie’s mind and she chocked on a whimper.

Was this how Grace had felt in her last moments? Had she wondered who would sing Charlie lullabies? Because Lizzie wondered. She wondered who would tell Ruby bedtime stories and help her learn her letters. She thought of Charlie’s violin recital coming up. She had promised she’d be there. And now she might miss it. She might miss everything for the rest of their lives.

Slowly, without her truly realizing it, Lizzie’s eyes found Tommy’s. She wanted to think he’d read to Ruby. She wanted to think he’d go to Charlie’s recital. She wanted to think he would be alright. She wasn’t Grace after all- he didn’t love her. And maybe that was better. Because she’d seen him after Grace and he couldn’t go through that again and come out the other side.

She wasn’t paying attention. She wasn’t paying attention and maybe if she had been she’d have seen it. She might have seen the way Tommy jerked towards her. She might have seen the hand holding the knife move away only to come back harder, faster, piercing through skin and muscle. Because between one thought and the next- one breath and the next- there was nothing but pain. -

Tommy watched the knife bury itself into Lizzie’s stomach. He watched as Fryers dragged it from one side to the other until there was nothing visible but blood. He watched the man let her go- let her fall- as he ran. And for a moment- for a split second- it was Grace collapsing in front of him. Then his mind caught up to the present and he could hear himself shouting for help. He was on his knees, suit coat in hand, pulling Lizzie against him so he could try to slow the bleeding.

“Lizzie? Lizzie, look at me.” Her blood was hot and thick on his hands. He’d had men die in his arms. He’d had Grace die in his arms. But Lizzie’s blood felt heavier- it burned him. His eyes shot to her face, took in the pale face and wide eyes. She was staring at him- like she’d never seen him before. “Lizzie, it’s gonna be alright, eh? We’ll get ya patched up quick, hmm?”

But the blood was running too fast. Arthur was there. Tommy could see Finn and Pol running. But it wasn’t fast enough. It was happening all over again. He pressed down harder, hating the way Lizzie flinched away from him. Hated the sound of her screaming in pain. But he didn’t stop- he couldn’t. Polly’s hands joined his and he looked up. She looked scared, his aunt. Scared and sad. She didn’t look like this when it was Grace. But the thought was there and gone before he could feel it tear at the wound Grace’s death had made.

Suddenly a cold hand was on his cheek. Tommy looked at Lizzie again. Her eyes were red rimmed from tears, and she was shaking from the blood loss. But he didn’t look away. She had that look- the one he’d seen dozens of times before. The one that he’d sought out on bad nights. He’d never been able to ignore that particular look- not completely.

“None of this is your fault, Tommy.” He jolted back as if she’d slapped him. Her hand was still on his cheek and he could feel her nails digging into the skin, trying to make him listen. But he couldn’t listen to that. Because it was a lie. It was a lie and Tommy Shelby didn’t lie to himself. “You listen to me,” she rasped, voice breaking on her words. “You listen to me Tommy Shelby. It’s not your fault.”

The doctor burst through the door as her hand slipped, as her eyes closed, as her voice rang in his ears…

“It’s not your fault, Tom.” -

He had never seen Lizzie so still.

She wasn’t a wild sleeper- a remnant of her whoring days. But she’d at least move her legs a bit, curl into a ball if she got too cold. But now she did nothing. Her fingers hadn’t even twitched. No, she was just laid there- still and too pale. Tommy’s eyes moved from her face to the place where her bandage was. He couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly where it was. He knew that Lizzie had fifteen stitches.

He knew that she’d not woken up once since she passed out in his arms.

That had been hours ago. The sun was just rising and the doctor had only left a few hours before. He hadn’t moved from his place beside their bed. It felt as if moving would unsettle things and he couldn’t risk it. Polly had come up to tell him what was happening in the world. Arthur and the Boys were looking for Fryers. The maids had cleaned the blood from the hall. The guests were escorted out with excuses for the host and hostess’ absence. So all was quiet.

But the stillness was a curse to his mind. It gave him time to think. It gave him time to remember. It gave the fear a chance to sink into his bones and wrap tight around his lungs. Because one wife had died in his arms and the other had almost done the same. And he knew- despite Lizzie’s words- that it was his fault. He was the one who kept bringing violence into their lives. He was the one always pushing for more and more.

What if it’s Charlie or Ruby, next?

He couldn’t bear the thought of it. His children were his entire world. Losing Grace had been a hell he’d never thought could exist. But even Tommy knew that to have one of his kids die because of his business would have him in an asylum or a grave. And if Lizzie didn’t pull through this… It would be a shitty way of repaying her loyalty. It would be a shitty way of thanking her for the drinks and the dancing and the warmth on bad nights. It’d be a terrible way to thank her for Ruby.

A light knock came at the door and dragged Tommy from his thoughts. He called for the intruder to come in. He didn’t look up as the door opened. He didn’t care to see anyone, anyway. But the quiet patter of little feet caught his attention and made him turn. Ruby stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes barely open. Her small fist rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she began to move to his side.

“What are you doing up so early, little one?” Tommy asked, as he lifted the little girl onto his lap. She settled against him, tucking her head under his chin. It was something she’d always done- come to him when she woke too early. She always seemed to find him if he was home and it was a little bit of easiness that Tommy let himself enjoy.

“Is Mummy sick?”

Tommy turned back to his wife. He tried to see her the way Ruby was seeing her. He heaved a sigh and held his girl closer. “Yeah, Rue. Mummy’s a bit sick. Her stomach is hurt and she’s resting until she feels better.” He waited for more questions, but they didn’t come. Instead his daughter told him about her dreams- horses and faeries and a tea party, from what he gathered. Nothing like the blood and screams that had filled his night.

“Da, when is Mummy gonna wake up? I want to play with her.” The words cut at Tommy. They sliced into the soft parts of him and left them bleeding. Charlie had been too young with Grace. He didn’t even remember her now. He hadn’t asked such questions. But if Lizzie died, Ruby would remember. Tommy’d have to answer questions like this every step of the way.

“Why don’t we go see about some breakfast, eh Rue?” -

An hour later Ruby was playing happily in the nursery. She had been fed and washed and gotten the attention she’d wanted from her father. She was a happy child. And Tommy was back in his bedroom. Back sitting in the chair beside his bed. Back watching over Lizzie.

For the first time in hours he saw signs of her waking. Her hands had curled into fists and her face was scrunched from pain. Tommy took her right hand and uncurled her fist. He smoothed his thumb against her palm lightly. “I know it hurts, Lizzie,” he whispered as her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I know, but you’ve got to push through. For Ruby. For Charlie. They need ya, Liz.”

Lizzie pulled her hand from his and brought it to her stomach. Tommy just barely had a chance to grab it back, before she could cause herself any more pain. But the sudden movement, seemed to hurt her anyway. A small gasp came from Lizzie and her eyes shot open. He was on his feet and standing over her in the next second. His other hand shot out to keep her from twisting about and tearing her stitches.

“Lizzie? Lizzie, listen,” he said, voice low and gentle like with his horses. “You’ve been hurt, Lizzie. You’ve been hurt, but the doctor’s come and sewed you up.” He waited to see if his words were reaching her. He thought maybe they were, so he kept talking. “Now you’ve got to lie still for me, Liz. You don’t want to rip the stitches. Just breathe and stay still. It’s alright.”

She had stopped wriggling. She was taking small breaths but they weren’t frightened ones anymore. So Tommy let her go and sat back in his seat. He gave her a moment, waiting for her questions. But like their daughter, Lizzie seemed to have none. Instead she turned her head to look at him. He didn’t know what she saw on his face, but it made her reach for his hand.

And that’s how she fell back to sleep- holding his hand. -

She woke up to fire in her belly. Pain lashed across her torso and sent tendrils into her hips and thighs. And the world was different than she remembered it. She’d had a dream, she thought. It had to have been a dream, at any rate. She’d been at Arrow House, lying in her bed. And Tommy had been- he’d been talking to her, telling her everything would be alright.

But she looked around, vision hazy from the pain and the burning, and saw white walls instead of the wallpaper from home. And it was cold, when her room was never cold. Her mind tried to piece together what had brought her to this place. But she couldn’t think.

Lizzie turned her head at the sound of a door opening. A woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform came in. A step behind her was Tommy. For a moment she forgot her worries. Because if Tommy were here, then she was at least safe. She could let him do the thinking just then. But then she realized she hadn’t seen Ruby or Charlie and something was telling her she needed to see them- that something was wrong.

“Tom?” Her voice came out low and raspy. It was like she’d smoked too many cigarettes in a row. But she didn’t care. She watched as Tommy moved closer to her, settling into the chair beside her bed. It was uncomfortable, the bed, now that she thought of it. But that too was unimportant. Her hand grasped her husband’s. “Where’s Ru-” she croaked, throat dry and sore. She swallowed what little saliva she could manage and tried again. “Where’s Ruby and Charlie?”

Tommy reached over and got a glass of water. He helped her sit up a bit so she could drink. She wished he hadn’t. The pain in her stomach flared brighter and she felt dizziness rush in. But somehow she pushed it back. He’d not answered her question and she needed him to. For whatever reason she needed to hear they were alright- that they were safe. “The children are at home. Polly’s watching them.”

She collapsed against her pillow in relief. “Good. That’s good, Tom.” But now that she knew the children were alright she turned back to her surroundings. “I’m in hospital.” Tommy nodded. “Why am I in hospital?” She could guess, of course. Her stomach was a mess of pain and she felt as if her skin was afire. But that told her nothing of how she’d come to be that way.

Tommy let out a deep sigh and sat back in his chair. The harsh light in the room showed the dark circles and pale skin she hadn’t quite noticed in her fear for her children. But she saw it now- this tiredness that wrapped around Tommy. “We had a party at the house, remember?” She nodded. They’d been planning it for weeks- her and Ada. “Well, someone got in. They got in and got to you.” She saw a flash of an image- an arm wrapped around her waist too tightly. She nodded again. “He stabbed you, Lizzie. The doctor came and stitched you up, but the bastard must have nicked something. It’s got infected.”

“Oh.” Her voice was little more than a whisper now. She’d heard the stories. She knew infection could kill her as easy as a bullet. Or a knife. Her mind took her back to that night. It was bits and pieces- nothing all together that she could tell. But she remembered fear. And she remembered pain. And she remembered Tommy, as well, a bit. “He said he’s hurt the kids.”

Tommy sat up straighter. “He’ll not be hurting anyone ever. Arthur got him the next afternoon. He’s at the bottom of the Cut.” Lizzie’s brows furrowed at that. Had he known the man had threatened the kids? Had she told him at some point? She couldn’t remember. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting worse?” There was that note of fear in his voice- the one from when she’d thought she was losing Ruby.

“No. I just don’t remember telling you about the kids.” Tommy tilted his head in confusion. “Not now- before. It’s fine, you sent Arthur so I must have told you. I just don’t remember it.” But her words only seemed to confuse Tommy more. His eyes narrowing on her in question. “You killed him ‘cause he threatened the kids, I just don’t recall when I told you- other than just now. I was probably in too much pain, I suppose,” she mumbled to herself.

The confusion lifted only to be replaced by a slight grimace. If Lizzie didn’t know better and if Tommy were another man she might have called it shame- the thing she saw in his eyes. But Tommy wasn’t another man and Lizzie did know better. “Lizzie…You only told me about the kids just now. I had him killed because he stabbed my wife when you had nothing to do with the business between us.”

“Oh…” Lizzie knew she didn’t hide her surprise well. She wasn’t sure she hid it at all. But suddenly she was too tired to care. A wave of dizziness had wrapped itself around her. Her stomach protested all the breathing she was doing. And now she felt too hot to be wasting energy talking. Something in the back of her head said that this wasn’t normal. But she could feel her eyes growing heavy again. Then she fell back into the darkness of sleep. -

The next time Lizzie woke, the doctor was there. He was standing with Tommy by the door and she just knew something was wrong. Tommy’s shoulders were too stiff and the doctor looked slightly frightened and slightly sympathetic. She couldn’t hear much, but a few words reached her as she struggled against exhaustion- words like, “…done all I can…spread too far…shut down… sorry, Mr. Shelby…”

“Get the fuck out. If you’ve no help to give then get out.” There was a dark, violent, anger in Tommy’s voice. She could hear it as clearly as she had heard his words. And she couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned for the doctor. But then her mind took in what had been said- really took it in. And suddenly the doctor was the least of her worries.

I’m dying…

She felt her breathing grow tight and her hands start to tingle. Her mind raced, pushing out the tiredness she had been feeling moments before. Her eyes locked onto Tommy again. She could see it now- under the anger. He was worried-in a lesser man it might be fear. But it was there, plain for her to see. She was dying. She was dying and there was nothing that could be done about it.

The doctor left the room and Tommy turned to face her. His brows rose in surprise to see her awake, before his face when blank. “What’d you hear?” She tilted her head in exasperation. Her eyes were beginning to sting, but she blinked to keep her tears at bay. Now wasn’t the time. There was too much to deal with. “Lizzie, he’s a fool. You’re going to be just fine, I swear it.”

But this wasn’t something Tommy could will into being. If he could wish someone alive, she’d not be his wife right now. Ruby wouldn’t exist. But no matter what he thought, even Thomas Shelby couldn’t control Death. She let her head drop onto the pillow and she stared up at the ceiling for a long moment.

“I want Ruby to go to a proper school. No tutors. She needs to learn how to be around other children- other people.” Tommy stepped closer to her, a hesitance in his steps she’d never seen before. But Lizzie kept going. “You have to go to all of Charlie’s recitals. He’s awful, and I hate that violin. But he loves it, Tom. And I won’t be there, so you have to go. Every single one.”

“Lizzie-“

“You can’t… you can’t drink too much around Ruby. It scares her. She doesn’t know why you’re angry. Same for Charlie. Don’t let him see you drunk.” But Tommy was shaking his head- that cold expression he wore when he was displeased on full display. “And you promise me- you promise me, Tommy- you’ll not let them see the other side of things. As long as you can, Tom, please.” Her voice was thick with tears, but she kept going. He had to hear it. “I don’t want them growing up afraid of every single shadow. I don’t want them living looking over their shoulders.”

“Lizzie…” He took a deep breathe when her eyes met his again. “Please shut up. Just shut up, Lizzie. You aren’t dying. You hear me? You are not fucking dying.” He stalked over to the bed and leaned over her, his fists on either side of her head. “I’ll not have my wife speaking like this. I’ll not listen to you go on about things as if you won’t fucking be there, because you will. Eh? You fucking will.” His forehead came to rest against hers lightly. He thought it was a comfort, but it wasn’t. It only proved her point.

Because it felt like love- and Tommy could only love her if she was dying. -

“No one’s seen you in days, Tommy. You’ve not called the office. You’ve not called anyone about business. And I know Lizzie’s…in a bad way-“

Tommy stood from his chair and walked around his desk. Charlie looked up from the train set he was playing with. Tommy settled onto the floor with his son and watched as he went back to his toys. Ruby was asleep on the sofa- her little hands curled into fists by her head. He’d always thought she got that from him- something of his war demons settling into her before she was even born.

“I don’t want to seem unconcerned. You know I love Lizzie like I do Ada.” Tommy flinched at that. Polly would never have said that about Grace. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know why. “But things are still happening in the world. And they need your attention. You can’t just…hide here and play trains.”

Tommy looked up at the same time Charlie did. His son watched his aunt with a curious expression before turning to his sister. Tommy could see the question before he asked it. But he couldn’t stop the words. “Aunt Polly? Is Ruby not gonna have a mum, too. Like me?” Tommy glared at Pol as the older woman searched for an answer to give Charlie.

“Charlie, you do have a mum. And she loved you very much. Remember?” Tommy kept his voice even despite the pain that always threatened to break through when he spoke of Grace. But he needed to say this. He needed to explain things. He’d not pass the job off on someone else. “And Lizzie isn’t going anywhere for a long time. She’d a bit sick, but she’ll get well again and be back home, yeah?”

The disappointed look his aunt sent him barely registered in Tommy’s mind. She didn’t know what she was talking about. She kept speaking as if Lizzie was already buried and she wasn’t. She was down at hospital getting better. And that was it. “You do him no favors, Thomas,” Pol hissed. But he didn’t respond, didn’t even look her way. The door to his office closed behind her and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Charlie, m’boy.” His son looked up at him and Tommy got that same ache in his chest he always did. “How’d you like to go visit Lizzie for a bit? She’s been missing you and your sister.” The excited look on Charlie’s face was answer enough. It was just further proof of how Lizzie had to get well. Because unlike Grace, she would be the mother Charlie mourned if things went bad.

Standing up, Tommy moved back to his desk. Polly had been right about one thing- business needed handling. And there were some things Polly couldn’t get involved with. So he went over the books and made calls. He wrote letters and sent orders ‘round to the Boys. He watched Charlie play and Ruby sleep. Then when Ruby woke up he’d take his kids to see Lizzie. -

Things were worse. So much worse. Lizzie was pale and sweaty. Her lips were dry and cracked from fever. But she wouldn’t stop shaking. And Tommy hated seeing her that way. It was nothing like the Lizzie he’d known for all his life. It was nothing like the woman he’d come to respect and admire. She was too tough and too stubborn to let anything bring her down.

But one accident and she was reduced to this. He hadn’t brought the kids inside the room this time. They were waiting with Ada in the hall. It had been only a few days since the first time they had come to visit. And Tommy had been sure to bring them every day since. It had made Lizzie smile to see them. And Charlie and Ruby had slept better after they saw Lizzie.

So how she had gotten to this point, he didn’t understand. The nurses told him it was the nature of things. The doctor told him that it was God’s will. But Tommy didn’t give a fuck about God’s will. His will said that Lizzie had to pull through, and it was the only one he gave a damn about.

But he could hear it- she rattle in her chest that came when death was close. He could almost smell it- death had a certain smell. You couldn’t forget it after you’d been around it. It haunted your memory. So he took a cool rag and some soap and wiped down Lizzie’s arms and neck. He cleaned the scent off of her face and out of her hair. It didn’t belong.

Dark brown eyes opened and locked onto him. Tommy watched as his wife fought against her body to turn towards him. “Hello, Mr. Shelby.” Her voice was cracked, her words were too soft. And he couldn’t quite tell if she was being playful or if she was living a memory from before she was Mrs. Shelby. Her eyes cleared a bit, and he saw his Lizzie peek through. “You look awful as always.”

He knew he was meant to smile. He had given her more smiles since she’d been ill. But he couldn’t quite get his face to move the way it needed to this time. So he settled on talking instead. “You’ve looked better yourself, Mrs. Shelby.” Her brows furrowed and he found himself smiling after all. “In fact, I recall you looking quite lovely on our wedding day.”

“You barely looked at me on our wedding day, Thomas Shelby. You kept looking out the window to Grace’s grave. As if I wouldn’t notice.” He winced at that, grateful that Lizzie’s eyes had slipped closed so she didn’t see. “But it was alright,” she rasped. “I always…knew…what this…was.” Her breathing had turned choppy. Tommy helped her sit up a bit, gave her a glass of water. She relaxed back into the pillows. Let her catch her breath. Then, “And it’s not polite to tell a woman she looks bad, you know.”

He shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that rule. But I’m not much for rules, am I?” She hummed in agreement and let her eyes close again. A knock at the door had Tommy glancing over his shoulder. Ada stood in the doorway with Charlie and Ruby at her sides. Tommy turned back to Lizzie. “You feeling up for visitors, Mrs. Shelby?” Her lips tipped up into a tired smile, as she nodded. “Come in children,” he called.

Charlie reached them first. He stood at the side of the bed and leaned against Tommy. It was clear the boy was nervous. He’d never seen Lizzie sick before, let alone the way she was at that moment. Ruby showed up a moment later, her little feet taking longer to cross the wide space. “Hello, my darlings.” Lizzie forced herself up before Tommy could stop her. Her eyes were drinking in the sight of the little ones as if she’d not seen them in weeks instead of mere hours. “I’ve missed you since yesterday.”

Charlie moved to climb into the bed and settle on one side of Lizzie while Tommy lifted Ruby so she could sit as well without hurting her mum. “We missed you too. Frances doesn’t tell the stories like you do. And she won’t sing at all.” Tommy watched as Lizzie pulled Charlie closer to her.

“Well, maybe if you ask your dad very nicely he’ll read to you sometimes. He’s very good with stories.” She shot him a sly look, “I always believed ‘em at any rate.” Tommy didn’t react, that was a conversation for another time. “Now, Ruby. Have you brought me a picture today?” Charlie sat up and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. One had a mess of scratches and scribbles on it- Ruby’s. The other had some line figures standing together- Charlie’s.

Handing both to Lizzie, Charlie went into an explanation of his. Tommy tuned it all out. He’d heard it earlier after his son had first drawn it. Instead he watched as a spark of life came back into Lizzie’s eyes. It matched the spark in Charlie’s, as if they each were drawing happiness from the other. Eventually Ruby started in, telling Lizzie about the horse she’d drawn and the flower, although if Lizzie had any better luck at telling the scribbles apart than he had- Tommy couldn’t tell.

Soon enough it was time for Charlie and Ruby to be getting home. Lizzie had made them promise to be good for Tommy and Frances, like she always did. And they had both kissed her cheek and gave her hugs that probably hurt more than she let on. Ruby had already skipped over to the door to wait for Ada to collect her. But Charlie lingered. “Can’t you stay a bit longer, Lizzie?” Tommy turned from keeping an eye on Ruby to look at his son.

“What d’you mean, Charlie?” Lizzie asked.

The boy scuffed his shoe against the tile floor and twisted his hands before looking up. “I just mean…Well, Ruby’s only little. And I like you, you’re nice and fun. And I don’t have a mum that’s here and if you go and die then Ruby won’t either. And then there’ll be no one. So could you maybe just stay for a bit? Until Ruby and me are bigger and don’t need you so much anymore?”

Tommy slowly turned his head towards Lizzie. Her eyes were bright with tears and her mouth was open as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. The sound of heels clicking reached Tommy and he saw from the corner of his eye as Ada took Charlie’s hand and led him out. He could just hear her whispering about ice cream and cake. But Tommy kept watching Lizzie.

“I-“ Her voice failed her for a moment. The first tear fell and Tommy had to look away. “I want to stay,” she whispered brokenly. “You tell him that, okay? You tell him that I want to stay with him and Ruby and you. I don’t wanna leave, Tom,” she cried, pain clear in her voice. “Please, I don’t wanna go. I wanna see him with his first girl. I wanna be the one to take Ruby to her first picture show. I wanna be there, Tommy.”

Dropping down to his knees by the bed, Tommy took Lizzie’s hand. It was too hot, he didn’t know how the kids could stand being so close when her fever was like this. But maybe he did, because he didn’t let go of her hand. “Doctor says God wants you in heaven with him. Says he’s calling you home.” Lizzie’s face fell as she nodded. More tears streamed from her eyes. The last time Tommy had seen her cry like this was when they almost lost Ruby. He brushed his thumb against her cheek to wipe her tears. “But I say,” he went on, letting his head rest in her lap, “I say you’re mine, eh? I married you. You’re mine, and I don’t share. Not with God or the Devil or anyone else.”

A watery laugh escaped her. “Thomas Shelby- taking on God and the Devil. Polly’ll have words for you about that, ya know.” He smiled a bit. Because he knew it was what she needed from him. And he’d been shit at giving Lizzie what she wanted, so the least he could do was this. Her hands slid into his hair and he let himself enjoy the feeling, savor it a bit. “I’m fighting too, Tommy. I’m fighting to stay like your fighting to keep me. Don’t think otherwise, alright?”

“I never doubted you for a second, Liz.” -

She didn’t wake up the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. Coma, the doctor called it. Said she might never wake up again. Said it might be for the best- keep her from suffering. Tommy’d almost strangled him where he stood. Arthur had dragged him off, held him back. Finn and Isaiah had taken the doctor out of the room.

Then the looks came. From Finn and Ada and Arthur. The look that said he’d lost it a bit. The look that said they were already writing Lizzie off. Polly didn’t have the look. But that meant nothing, she’d already written Lizzie off, now she was just waiting for Tommy to catch up. They were all wrong and he was sick of looking at them.

So he put them out. Out of Arrow House, out of the hospital, out of his mind. He had Lizzie moved back home. Set her up in their bedroom. Hired a nurse to care for her. He wondered if it was the right thing- Charlie had caught a glimpse of Lizzie laid up in the bed and hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since. But Tommy hated having her in that hospital with people just waiting for her to die.

She was Elizabeth-fucking-Shelby. She was tougher than all of them.

Frances kept the children away. Tommy was glad. He didn’t want them to see her like that. He didn’t want to scare them. So a new schedule was set up in the Shelby home. Mornings Tommy spent doing business while the children played in the nursery and Charlie was in his lessons. Afternoons were when Tommy and the kids would go to the stables to check the horses and he’d watch them run about for a bit. They’d come in and settle in his office and he’d be the dad he hadn’t been before because Lizzie was there to keep the kids occupied.

Then after dinner he spent with Lizzie. He’d read her the ledgers, ask her opinion about expanding one business or another. He’d play music for her, because she always played music in the evenings. And he’d talk to her. It didn’t escape him that he could only seem to find the words when she couldn’t hear them. The one thing she’d asked from him and he could only give it when she couldn’t appreciate it.

But it didn’t stop him. He told her about his day- the good and the bad. He asked after hers though he knew better than anyone the nothing that occupied her days now. He told her about Charlie and Ruby and Finn and Ada. He told her about the secretary at the office and how he still wasn’t used to the way she filed things. Everything he could think to say, he said to Lizzie.

“I think I’ve realized something, Lizzie.” His hand held hers and he watched her lashes flutter a bit. She was dreaming- he wondered what about. He hoped it was something pleasant. “I think I want another. Charlie and Ruby are grand, but I think you owe me at least one more. Or I owe you.” He leaned forward to brush a bit of hair from her face. Like this he could pretend she was only taking a nap after a long day.

“Yes, I think another boy would be nice. Or twins- one of each. Get it out of the way at one time, eh?” Her chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm it had been for the past week since she’d been home. “I like the name Evelyn. Evelyn Shelby sounds like a force to be reckoned with, doesn’t it. But Pol will probably have words about that.” He could see it now, Pol staring him down telling him that there would be no Evelyn Shelby being born anytime soon.

“Now my mind’s set. I want at least one more girl. You have to give me one more girl, Lizzie. We did good with our first one. Then we can have as many more as you’d like.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes. A headache was coming on. He hadn’t slept in too long and now his body was kicking up a fuss. But he ignored the pain. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of his chair. “How many babies are we gonna have, Lizzie?”

“You’ll only get one more out of me, Thomas Shelby,” a weak voice replied.

For a long moment he didn’t move, didn’t so much as open his eyes. Because he was half afraid it was a mistake- his mind playing tricks. But the hand he was holding tightened around his fingers for the first time in ten days and he needed to see her. His eyes opened and he turned to the woman lying in his bed. She looked tired- she looked exhausted, really. But her eyes were open and she was giving him a tired smile. “You’ve made my life difficult these last few days, Lizzie Stark.”

Her smile grew the slightest bit, but he saw it. “Yeah?” She nodded to herself, before shaking her head a bit. “Well you’ve been making mine difficult for years. Figure I should even the scales a bit.” Tommy ducked his head and breathed out a laugh. That spark of life that he hadn’t seen in too long lit up Lizzie’s eyes.

“I’m a bookmaker, love, I don’t like even odds.” He stood from his chair, her hand still in is, and helped her take a few sips of water. Then he brought his free hand up to her cheek to check her temperature. Her skin was still flushed, but she wasn’t as warm as she had been. The nurse had been cleaning and changing Lizzie’s bandage every day. And Tommy had stood watch every time. So he didn’t hesitate to push back the blanket and lift the shirt that Lizzie had been sleeping in.

“I’m not sure I’m up to making your babies just yet, Tommy,” she said, a hint of worry in her voice.

He raised a brow, but quickly turned back to what he was doing. “I’m not quite that impatient, Lizzie. I’ll give you at least until tomorrow.” A weak slap to his arm was all the reply he needed. His eyes took in the wound that had caused his entire household to nearly fall apart. The angry red skin, and the yellow and green drainage had cleared three days ago. Now there was no drainage at all and the skin was only a bit red.

Lizzie sighed when Tommy lowered the shirt over her wound again. “So, doctor Shelby, will I make it?” His eyes found hers in an instant and Tommy knew she could see how worried he’d been. Her teasing smile dimmed a bit and her hand took hold of his wrist. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean it like that. But I’m alright, now- I can feel it. So stop glaring at me and tell me how Ruby and Charlie are.”

But he didn’t. Instead he moved around to the other side of the bed and crawled in. He slid over until he and Lizzie were side by side, arms touching. Then he pulled her gently into his arms and held her close. He felt the way she tensed for a moment before relaxing against him fully. He heard the soft sigh of contentment that left her. And he saw her tangle their fingers together, squeezing tight for a moment the way she always did to calm his mind. They stayed like that for a long while.

For the first time in days, Tommy slept- and Lizzie watched over him. -

She was better. She was alive. It had been two weeks since she’d woken up and now life was back to normal- almost. The Shelby family was being ridiculously overprotective of her. Ada barely let her do more than pour tea. Finn was her shadow if she set foot outside the front door. Arthur- of all people- wouldn’t let her drink or smoke. Even Charlie and Ruby were being extra careful with their hugs and not making as much noise. And Polly… Well Polly was alright, actually. But the one Shelby she would have liked to have hanging about was locked away in his office.

Everyone told her that Tommy’d not left her side while she was ill. They told her how he’d not believed for a minute that she wouldn’t pull through- even when they’d had doubts. And she remembered that- Tommy visiting her in the hospital, Tommy yelling at the doctor, Tommy talking to her about babies. But any trace of that man was long gone. In his place was the Thomas Shelby she was painfully familiar with.

And the longer he stayed away from her, the more Lizzie wanted to slap him. Because if this was what she had stayed alive for- besides Charlie and Ruby- then he could take a jump into the Cut. So she left her tea sitting on the table in her bedroom and made her way downstairs. Her fist rapped lightly at the door, the way Frances did, and waited a whole three seconds before entering to room.

As expected Tommy didn’t look up when she entered. But he did when the door closed and locked a moment later. Lizzie strode into the room and took a delicate seat in the chair across from his desk. “Good afternoon, Tommy. How are you today?” Her husband’s eyes narrowed in confusion. His eyes scanned her carefully, checking that all was well. But she was feeling wonderfully. “I’ve come to ask you a quick question.” He waved a hand for her to proceed, annoyance clear in the gesture. “Was it easier when I was dying?”

Tommy froze. “What?”

Lizzie leaned forward to take up his cigarette case. Pulling out a stick, she grabbed his lighter and lit her cigarette. Then she sat back, relaxing into the chair. “Would it have been easier for you if I’d died? I mean, you seemed to want me around while I was in hospital. And you apparently want to have a few more children with me.” Her eyes narrowed when Tommy twitched at that. She took a long drag of her cigarette and let the smoke linger in her lungs a while before exhaling. “It was, wasn’t it? It was easier for you to care about me when you thought I’d be gone soon. When I couldn’t care back.”

“Lizzie…” But Tommy paused. His eyes shot to the picture of Grace on his desk. Then he looked back at Lizzie. “I’ve known you for years, Lizzie. I already care. We wouldn’t be married- we wouldn’t have Ruby- if I didn’t care.”

She gave a slow nod. He was right. Of course he was right. She knew that things had changed between them after Grace’s death. But it had always been an uneven thing. She had always cared more. Until this all happened. Then suddenly she was seeing more concern and kindness from Tommy than she’d seen since she was carrying Ruby- and before that not since the year 1913. And now they were back to the same cold, nothing from before.

“Lizzie, I’m busy. I’ve work to catch up on. I can’t- I can’t do whatever it is you’re wanting me to do here.”

She watched him go back to his papers- not looking at her again. She stood from her seat. Lizzie wasn’t quite sure what she had thought. She wasn’t sure what she expected to change. Tommy Shelby was the same man he’d always been. And a few kind moments given to a woman he thought was dying didn’t change that. She walked to the door and unlocked it- her hand frozen with the knob turned. She kept her eyes on the door as she said, “We were close once, Tommy- friends. We could go back to that. But not if you shut me out at every turn.”

“Liz-“

“Don’t push me away, Tommy. That’s all I ask. You don’t have to let me in. You don’t have to- to love me.” She stumbling over the word, but couldn’t bring herself to care. She just needed to get this out. “But I’m not your enemy. And I just want to help you. So…Please don’t push me away.”

Then she left him to his work and his ghosts. -

Tommy found her in the library later that night. His mind had kept replaying what she’d said to him over and over. He’d been cold. He’d been distant. And he’d had good reason. But when she’d asked him not to push her away, he’d felt something inside him come loose. And it had left him in a storm of anger and grief and fear that he’d not been ready to face.

But he owed her this. So he locked the library door behind him and sat in the chair across from the sofa she was curled up on. Lizzie glanced up from her book briefly before ignoring him. A flare of irritation rose before he pushed it down. He couldn’t have this conversation if he was angry.

“I couldn’t breathe for days after Grace died.” Lizzie’s hand paused in the middle of turning a page. “I thought it was the pain crushing the air from my lungs. I thought it’d kill me.” Slowly the book lowered to her lap. “But then I’d called you over and you came and it was just supposed to be a quick fuck- like before she came back from New York. But we didn’t fuck. You never even got undressed.”

Her head finally lifted and he could see her eyes. “You weren’t in the right place to fuck. It’d have broken you after- the guilt.”

Tommy let out a scoff. “The guilt broke me before I ever called you.” Her eyes dropped again. “When you got stabbed it felt like losing Grace again.” Lizzie’s head snapped up that time, her eyes burning with anger. “Not- not the same. But… I thought I was going to watch my wife die in my arms. I thought I would lose the mother of my child again. And the blood- you both bled so much. But it was after that was different.”

“I should hope so, since I’m not dead.”

He raised a brow in challenge at her sarcasm. “I meant that after the guilt, I felt something else. Something I’d not wanted to feel ever again.” Lizzie narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I realized that I love you.” Lizzie stopped breathing- he could see the stillness of her chest. “It’s…different. It’s a different kind of love. But I do. And I don’t want to, Lizzie. Fuck, I really don’t. Because look what happened. You got hurt, you almost died. And if you had it would be so much harder than after Grace.”

She was breathing again- hard and fast like she was angry.

“How? How could it possibly be harder than after her? You forget, I saw you. I held your broken pieces. I watched you cry and scream and drink yourself unconscious.” She stood up and marched to the side bar. He watched her pour a full glass of his expensive whiskey and finish it in almost one go. “So you tell me, Tommy, how the fuck am I to believe you’d have a harder time losing me than losing her?”

He moved to stand beside her. His hand took the glass from her and set it back down. Then his hands found her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Charlie was too little.” He felt Lizzie tense at that. “He missed Grace for a bit, but it wasn’t… Charlie has known you his whole life. You’ve been with him longer than Grace. You’ve lived with him longer than Grace. You’re his mum, even though you aren’t his mother.”

“I’d never want to replace her with him, Tommy.”

He nodded. “I know. I know that, Lizzie.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Ruby’s older. She’d remember you properly.” He watched Lizzie’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if she could see this other Ruby and wanted to go to her. But Tommy kept her with him. “Then there’s me. Who’d pick up my pieces if I lost you?” She rolled her eyes. “I mean it. It’s not like Grace, and I hate to say this. It feels wrong to say this. But maybe it’s deeper than with Grace- simply because it was you that got me through losing her.”

Lizzie looked up at him and he saw a sad mix of hope and fear. But there was doubt more than anything. Lizzie stepped back and moved back to the sofa. She bent over and picked up her book holding to her chest like a shield. “So what does that mean, Tommy?” She kept her eyes on the books he’d bought but hadn’t bothered to read. “Why tell me this?”

“Because, you almost died and you thought I killed the man who did it for a reason other than that.” He poured himself a drink, swirling the liquid in the glass as he ordered his thoughts. “I’m telling you because you’re the person I go to when I need someone loyal and you never say no. I’m telling you because you almost died- and you deserve to know your husband loves you before you die, Lizzie.”

Tommy watched her take it all in. He watched her process it- watched her believe it. She lifted her head up the way he was used to seeing her. And when her eyes met his, Tommy knew that they’d be alright. It’d take a bit of time, and more than a bit of work. But he and Lizzie would get it. She seemed to agree, because she gave a decisive nod. Her eyes sparked with life the way they rarely did with him. “Alright, Mr. Shelby.”

It was a different kind of love, this, but he’d keep it close.

“Alright, Mrs. Shelby.”

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi! I read ur angst where sister Shelby dies (broke my fkn heart) and at the end tommy breaks down knowing Charlie would never know the good in the family. Well I was hoping you’d give us an insight in Charlie’s adult life where he never knew abt her because no one ever spoke of her . It was too hard. And then one day when Tommy loses it at him, he asks Polly why Tommy is the way he is and she decides it time for Charlie to know abt his aunt and why the family especially tommy are this way now

i may have gotten a little carried away lol angst below

the one we lost

The family had changed since your death. That fact was known all around england. Alfie solomons, Darby sabini, even the fucking Changretta family knew not to even think about your name. Charlie knew your name, just. He knew it from the plaque outside the church engraved with that name reading ; “in loving memory of our (y/n) [y/n/n] shelby.” So Charlie Shelby knew of you, but not about you. He had very, very small snippets of memory from his first few years of life with the younger shelby sibling, but no one would talk about you, especially not Tommy.

There was a day, every year, that Tommy would go MIA. Grace told Charlie that his dad just had to go and clear his mind and be with those who he had lost for the day. She knew she was alive and she was here talking to her son because of you, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be the one to tell him all about you.

Charlie has been on the receiving end of his father’s temper only a few times in his life. Never has the man raised a hand though, nor will he ever. But today his rage was different, his voice was louder and he was so much angerier. 15 year old Charlie stormed out the house and found himself at his great aunt Polly’s house. She got him some hot tea and while she’s in the kitchen, she goes into a drawer and pulls out an old picture that’s frayed in its corners, it’s black and white and a little faded from how many times it’s been soaked with tears.

It was of michael when he was two and you when you were a young baby. He had his little arms around you carefully and it’s her favourite picture ever. She goes underneath and pulls out the album of photos beneath it. Polly walks around to her great nephews side of the table and sits down with the album,flipping it open knowing the first picture is of you aged eleven months. Tommy is holding you against his hip with his forearm supporting underneath you, who looks at the camera with doe like eyes and Tommy offers a stiff smile at the camera, his other hand in his pocket. “That’s not ruby?” Charlie questions, his aunt shaking her head.

It’s about time he knows.

“That’s (y/n). She was your aunt.” She flicks through the pictures, each one sharing a story. First time riding a bike, first time riding a horse, first time walking, first time inside the bloody garrison. There were so many pictures, much of them you and Tommy. “She looks so happy.” Charlie notes, and Polly nods tearily. “Oh she was. She was the best of us all.” She swipes hastily at a team, “Always helping people when she could, barely had a bloody violent bone in her body.” she explains, and then Charlie asked the dreaded question. “What happened to her?”

Polly exhales shakily. “About thirteen years ago, your dad was in dealings with some dangerous people and someone wanted to get revenge on him.” She starts, and poor Charlie already sees where this is going. He’s had a million talks from the family warning him of what could happen to him when he goes out to do stuff that other kids his age can do with ease, without panic or worry from their families. he’s beginning to understand why his dad is so protective of his family, and violent towards those who dare threaten them.

One death was fucking enough.

“She took a bullet. Wasn’t meant for her, and your dads always blamed himself, every day since it happened. today’s a hard one for all of us because it’s the anniversary of the day we lost the kindest soul this family could ever have been blessed with.” Charlie nods his head, inhaling wearily. A tear slips over his cheek as he holds a picture of a young woman with vibrant eyes and beautiful bouncing hair holding him as a little boy. He knows it’s you, he reads your handwriting on the back that says you love your nephew with all of your heart and you would protect him forever. He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he knows that you still do, even if you’re not here with him physically.

“That’s why dad goes to the grove every year, with all the trees and the orange maple leaves. It’s because of her?” Polly nods her head. “She loved it there. They used to laugh for hours in that maple grove.” She says wistfully, the memory taking he right back to the days of watching over you carefully ploughing through the leaves at full speed with Thomas behind you.

A lot of things made sense to Charlie now; the dynamic of the family. He understands why his Arthur refuses to leave no matter how annoyed he gets Tommy. He understands why John wouldn’t give in to Esme and leave the family for good after he got shot and barely managed to survive. He understands why Michael stuck around even if he didn’t like the violent aspects of the life the family lives. He understands why Ada came back, why she was so fiercely protective of all her family, just as the brothers were. And arguably most importantly, young Charlie now knows why Tommy has such sadness and such dark, dark rage within him.

To lose a child, Polly told him, was the largest pain in the world. It’s categorically unimaginable. To Tommy, you were his daughter. His child. There was no argument in that. Losing you is one death he would never, ever forget. Tommy held you in his arms, his hands covered in your blood. She knows that he still wakes up screaming, looking down to see that red substance coating his fingers and leaking into every crevice of his palms. Grace still has to talk him down, tell him he’s dreaming and that it’s been a long time since you passed. She tries to convince him that you are, after all, in a better place away from all the danger and death. Charlie understand why his dad loathes himself so much. He knows it’s unlikely to be directly his fault, but he knows that Thomas Shelby will never forgive himself for the untimely death of his sweet girl.

“Why doesn’t he speak about her?” Charlie asks, clinging tight to that picture. Polly turns to meet his eyes. “It’s agony, Charles. It kills him. Each day he has to wake up and remember that his little sister died because of a man that he had crossed.” She tries to explain. “And the man who killed her, is he dead?” Charlie asks, prompting Polly to nod her head. “A man named alfie solomons captured him fleeing through London and killed him.” Charlie very much assumed there’s more to the story than a man he’d vaguely heard of killing the his aunts murderer, but Poppy wasn’t about to detail the bloody lead pipe that Solomons beat a man half to death with for hurting the littlest Shelby. He didn’t know you well, but he knew that you were still innocent, still a fucking child and you had nothing to do with the incident that you were killed for. He also knew your death would send the Shelby’s out of control and it did. Alfie watched tommy Shelby beat a man to death with his bare hands. It took him, uncle Charlie, Arthur and John to get Tommy off of your killer and the face beneath was fucking unrecognisable. Polly couldn’t tell Charlie that.

So she resorted to telling all the happy stories she could think of. Finding you and Arthur camping out in that very maple grove that Grace and Tommy took their children to every autumn. Polly tells him about how you and his uncle Finn were attached at the hip - omitting out the fact that the latter nearly died when you did just out of sheer grief. She told stories of the Shelby twin pranks and John shelby running around with you on his shoulders. She told the stories of tommy teaching you how to swim and all those summer days John spent throwing you around like a football, only for Tommy and Polly to let out horrifies shrieks and run to grab you, fixing your dress and making sure you were okay. But the second you were back on your own two feet you would be back over to your older brothers because you just enjoyed any time with them. Charlie laughed, oh how he laughed at the story of the time you and Isaiah and Finn got caught doing snow because you fell down the stairs and broke your arm and woke up the entire house with a guilty, high look on your face then never took it again.

Charlie went home that day with a fuller heart, a sadness laced within that was lightened by the fact you had such a happy life despite the cards you were dealt. You didn’t care about how dark the world was, you made it happy, made all the fun you could out of it. He couldn’t even imagine smacking his father in the face with a pillow at this age just to get a reaction of him, but it’s what you had done and it always ended in laughter, so maybe he would just have to try it. He left with a better understanding of the family dynamic and he was ready to approach his father a more knowledge man. He would never mention it, that he knew, but he would try to bring a little more subtle joy into his life the way you used to do, try to make his dads life a little easier.

[zodiyack]

Happiness

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warning: Swearing, fluff, mention of cheating (not Tommy), two sexual references, violence, alcohol, cigarettes, lyrics, me not proofreading

Words: 5279

Song: Happiness by Rex Orange County

Note: Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic

masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

I'll be the one that stays 'til the end. And I'll be the one that needs you again

When Tommy met Y/n, she was a sad one. Her heart had been broken too many times. Being cheated on many times by one person affected her trust, but being cheated on many times by one person and then being cheated on by another person ruined her trust all completely. Tommy asked her out, she said that she didn’t know him well enough, he asked her to talk to him so they could get to know each other, she said “doesn’t work that way” and walked off.

She really grabbed Tommy’s interest. Even if she didn’t mean to, Tommy was now caught like a fish in Y/n’s fishing rod of love, and Tommy refused to let go, no matter what plants they got stuck in. One day, after weeks of him bothering her and begging her, he managed to finally ask her out successfully. They hung out and talked almost every day, so he took her to a surprise spot. The blindfold came off and a picnic blanket and basket were revealed. That date had went well, in fact it’s one of Y/n’s favorite memories.

The two twirled around in the now messed up blanket. Giggles escaped Y/n’s mouth as Tommy tickled her and wiped frosting onto her face. She squealed as a sign that she yielded.

“Alright love, sorry if I was too-”

The yield however, wasn’t the kind of yield he thought it was. She took the chance while he was distracted and pushed him down, straddling him to wipe some of the frosting on his skin. Their giggles that had stopped after Y/n pleaded now continued. Kisses were placed on Tommy’s face, some of them leaving frosting behind.

This went on for a while, the flirting and messing around seemed funnier and funnier. Tommy, a serious and intimidating man, was being goofy and genuinely chuckling. This didn’t happen a lot, so Y/n made note to find ways to cheer up the Shelby boy.

A year later, after many many dates, Y/n and Tommy had a conversation that would change their lives. In a good way of course, but it seriously meant a lot to them. “Y/n. Can I promise you something?” They were lying on a blanket

“If you can keep it.”

“Well, I promise you I’ll stay here...forever. Until you die or until I die. The point is, I promise to love you forever, and if we end up splitting, I’ll still be here as a friend, whenever you need me.”

“Thomas Shelby. I promise the exact same thing, but let me add one tiny detail.”

“Yes?”

“I promise to be here as I am currently, and if you need me just tell me. I’ll be here to support you and comfort you as your friend, as your lover, and as your wife.”

“Wife?”

“You’ve thought of getting married haven’t you?”

“Yes heh...but I just didn’t think you’d agree. I love you Y/n M/n L/n.”

“I love you too Thomas Michael Shelby.”

Now, they had been together for nine years. Tommy left for war two years after they got together. He had kissed her passionately at the train station, telling her that he loved her and would write to her. She promised the same to him and stayed there until he left, then leaving to go to the Shelby house, resting on Tommy’s bed and writing a letter to him right away.

When he came back, he wasn’t the innocent boy Y/n knew. But she also wasn’t the innocent woman he knew. They both had changed, and they both loved it. Y/n stayed loyal while Tommy was gone, she wrote to him and his brothers every day, even telling Tommy of the people who flirted with her or greeted her. She missed him and he missed her. His now protective and serious attitude fit well with her cautious and quick-but-good thinking one. Their sweet and innocent personas still existed, but only for each other to see.

Neither of them had broken their promises. And neither of them had broken the other’s heart.

And I'll be the one that proposes in a garden of roses, And truly loves you long after our curtain closes... But will you still love me when nobody wants me around, When I turn eighty-one and forget things will you still be proud?

The year 1921 and Y/n bear a slightly raised belly. She was pregnant, but it didn’t show much. Y/n and Tommy’s relationship was stronger than ever, their love for each other quite obvious. However, Y/n was slightly upset over one thing. Marriage.

Tommy impregnated her, yet still hadn’t done anything to prove that he wanted her to be his forever like he said he did when they were younger. Y/n was ready. She had been ready ever since he came back from the war. To be honest, she was half expecting him to drop on his knee right there...but he didn’t.

Her train of thought crashed when footsteps sounded down the hall.

“Y/n! Y/n!” A 13 year old Finn called out. “There’s something you need to see!”

The small boy took off outside, leaving Y/n to trip over her own feat and try her best to follow him. He led her to a garden like place, although, the only thing growing was the red flowers that symbolized romance. Roses.

‘When did they have the time to grow this?!’ thought Y/n. Just yesterday she had came out back and this was never here.

“Y/n L/n.” Y/n’s attention turned to Tommy, he was on his knee on a pile of rose pedals by the other roses. “You have been my best friend as well as lover for a long time. Nine years I have been loved by you, twelve I have loved you, and fourteen I have known you. I fell in love with you when I was only 19. You fell in love with me when I was 22. Your eyes and your smile lit up my day, your laugh and your voice made my heart skip a beat, there’s so much more. You now are bearing my child and I would do anything for you and them. I vow to protect you both with my life, to love you and put you before anything and everything-”

“I’m just gonna guess ‘except for work’?” Y/n was smiling and crying, and she laughed when Tommy shrugged and did a small nod.

“Sometimes. Anyways, I hope you know that I love you more than life itself. I keep my promise from 1913. Do remember it?” She nodded, thinking back to her dates and secret meet-ups with him. “Well, as I said, I haven’t broken that promise yet and I don’t plan on breaking it. I will love you now, then, and forever. When you die or when you change, I will still love you. If you regret being with me, I will still love you.” He stopped talking for a moment. A tear ran down his face as his thoughts filled his head.

Y/n walked closer to him, running a hand through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “What’s wrong honey?”

Tommy inhaled and closed his eyes, he took and held her hands for dear life. “You already know that some people don’t quite like the Shelby name. Well... would you still love me when absolutely everyone wants us gone? Would you still want to be a Shelby? A- And when we grow old...and forget things... do you think we’ll be proud of ourselves? Of each other? Do you think we’d remember our great moments?”

“Tommy Shelby. I love you so so much, you honestly have no idea. I would never be ashamed nor disgusted by the thought of being a Shelby. Fuck what the people think. And for your last question Tommy, I think we’ll be really fucking proud of ourselves. We can’t forget our love since it’ll continue to exist.”

Thomas smiled and nodded. Y/n had a point. He took a box out of his trousers and opened it to Y/n. “Would you do me the honor of being my present and my future, of being my happiness, of being my wife, of becoming Mrs. Shelby?”

“I do! I do, I do!” She let the tears run down her face with a smile as Tommy slid the ring onto her finger. As soon as he stood up, she jumped onto him and connected their lips with burning passion.

'Cause I am the one that's waited this long. And I am the one that might get it wrong, And I'll be the one that will love you the way I'm supposed to, girl

The day of their wedding came. 1922, after Charles Shelby had been born and alive for at least 5 months. Y/n’s dress was beautiful. She was beautiful. Tommy swore up and down that Y/n was breathtaking with and without clothing. He said she made his heart beat faster whenever she was around.

Y/n was smoothing down her dress and looking at herself in the mirror. The maids who were helping dress her and fix up her hair had left her to be alone for a bit but left the door open a crack. That was their mistake. The door creaked open a bit, a tiny Charlie in a cute little suit crawled in.

“How’d you get here? Well, my love, you can’t be in here, so I’ll have to find one of your uncles or Daddy’s friends to take you back to Daddy. Come on little man.” She picked him up and leaned out the door slightly. No one was in sight, and the sound of talking came from outside the building. “God damn it. Come one Charlie, let’s go find someone before your Daddy comes inside and sees me.”

She wandered around, attempting to search for anyone but her fiancé whilst entertaining Charlie. Y/n rounded the corner, eyes widening to find Tommy, John and Arthur chatting amongst themselves against the wall.

“Poppa!” Charlie giggled and pointed his finger at the three men. They stopped talking and turned their heads over to where Y/n was. Luckily, she moved in time, but unluckily, the boys had already noticed the noise. Y/n heard them pull out their guns.

“Wait! Don’t come around the corner, put your guns away and make sure Tommy doesn’t come over here. John, will you come over here and get Charlie?”

“Bloody hell Y/n! Scared us half to death!”

“What’re you doin’ out of the room Y/n?” Tommy seemed curious and worried, he knew of the time limit that was gifted to Y/n. With his knowledge came his protectiveness. Anyone could get her while she was unattended, hence him and his brothers staying near the room.

“Charlie got into my room so I was gonna find either John or-” John took Charlie from Y/n and whispered a compliment about how pretty she looked. She said a quick thank you before continuing, “or Arthur so that they could take Charlie. I didn’t realize you guys would be out here all together.”

“Oh...well please just call for us next time, never know what’s gonna happen when so many people dislike the Shelby name. You’re lucky Charlie called out, I would’ve been upset if anything happened to you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to me...wait...” His voice was a lot closer, and she was leaning against the corner of the wall, keeping her dress out of sight. “Are you right next to me?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Hmm...Let me come right back.” Y/n went back into the room, peaking up the biggest cloth she could find. She wrapped it around her figure and walked out to Tommy. “Now you can’t see my dress, so it’s not bad luck.”

“I don’t believe in that bad luck thing with the dress.”

“Eh, I do. Now shut up and kiss me.” Their lips connected and the fiery passion filled their kiss and it grew intense, he put his hand on the back of Y/n’s neck. Realizing where they were, Tommy pulled away, winking and walking back to his brothers. He stopped halfway and turned to Y/n a final time.

“Y/n. I promise you, I may not be the best man, nor the best man for you to love. I might turn into a bad husband, or just be a bad husband, but I swear, I will love you the way I should. I will treat you like the queen you are, I will care for you and I will never break your heart.”

The Shelby boys, not including Finn, walked back outside. Tommy left Y/n with a smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks. She couldn’t wait until she would be known as “Mrs. Shelby.”

. . .

The priest was talking, but Tommy and Y/n couldn’t hear him. They were whispering out of the sides of their mouths. It felt like it was just them in the room. No one else, just them.

“I’ve waited forever for this moment, ya know?” Tommy whispered subtly.

“Oh sure. You waited nine years to ask my to marry you. You totally wanted it more than I did.”

“Oh hush, I was taking my time...for...reasons I guess.”

“Sure, whatever. You’re lucky you’re cute.” Y/n turned her attention to the priest so that he could distract her from laughing aloud.

It had all gone so fast, the couple being distracted with each other or with trying to not giggle at each other. The smile on Tommy’s face was so big, you would never think that he was really the leader of the Peaky Blinders, or you would and you’d just think he’d gone soft. His smile matched the one on Y/n’s face.

“You may kiss the bride”

They turned towards each other. Tommy smiled sweetly at his newly dubbed wife, he took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. Y/n grabbed his hand and pulled away, smiling widely again once they both opened their eyes. His beautiful ocean eyes were sparkling.

But will you still love me when nobody wants me around, around? When I turn eighty-one and forget things, will you still be proud?

Tommy kissed Y/n before she sat down. They were at the Garrison with the rest of the Shelbys...not including Finn. Anyways, an angry drunk walked over to the Shelby family. He had a disgusted look on his face, remains of food in his beard, and the smell of too much alcohol clouding around him.

Y/n and Ada’s face scrunched with slight disgust. He looked at Y/n in a way that made Tommy want to grab the back of his neck and slam his face into the table.

“Excuse me sir, could you please leave?” Y/n’s voice put Tommy at ease. She rubbed his arm while she gave her best attempt at shooing the man.

“I won’t take orders from a whore!” The drunk man itched his head. He seemed to be thinking but obviously was done when he spoke again, “How about this. You come with me, give me a good fuck, I’ll leave you alone.”

This agitated Tommy beyond Y/n’s repair. She couldn’t whisper her way out of this one. With one look from Tommy, the rest of the Shelby boys rose up from their seats and pointed their guns at the man. Thomas’ face looked dark and empty, all emotion wiped clean except for jealousy and vengeance.

“Listen here. Talk to my wife like that again, and you will be blinded by order of the Peaky fucking Blinders!” Y/n had never seen Tommy act this way before. He was red in the face, spit was flying out of his mouth when he spoke. The attention of the bar, not that there were many people currently, was directed towards the group.

Tommy connected his fist with the man’s jaw. The two men continued fighting, yet as flattered and in awe Y/n was, she couldn’t watch the violence. It wasn’t the violence itself, it was her need to yack and the excitement only making it worse.

Y/n was only 3 months pregnant, almost two years since their wedding. Polly and Ada knew of this, of course, and were quick to rush to Y/n’s aid and bring her outside. The fight went on as Y/n relieved her stomach through her throat. Rather nasty, but when you gotta do it, you gotta do it.

She decided to stay outside, not wanting to get involved with any more violence for the night. Ada brushed her fingers through Y/n’s hair and whispered softly to her. Pol tried to do the same, giving up half way through and pulling out a cigarette and walking away from the two girls.

“Y/n! Are you alright!” Tommy pushed through the front doors of the Garrison. Blood was leaking down his nose, his hair and shirt were disheveled, his fists were bloody and bruised.

“You didn’t use your hat did you?”

“Nah...it’s been a bit since I’ve used my actual fists. Felt nice.” He swapped places with Ada and smiled at his wife. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

A blush filled Y/n’s cheeks. “T- thank you... Um... Tommy?”

“Yes?”

“What happened in there? After I left?”

“Well...He started insulting us, insulting you and insulting our family. He was crazy enough to do it right in front of us! I did what any Shelby would do and protected the family name and honor.”

“Thomas, please tell me you didn’t-”

“No. I didn’t kill him. I wanted to, but I know that murder would have to have a good reason behind it... Are you mad at me? All of these people hate me, some even want me dead... do you feel the same way now?”

Tommy looked down, his eyes were watery and tired. It had been a long night, Thomas and the other boys were drunk and the ladies were the only ones sober enough to do anything. Although, they do say that a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.

“Tommy... I could never hate you or be mad at you just because other people feel that way. Fuck what the people think. I’m here, I’m your wife, I don’t care about what others think. All that is important is that I love you Thomas Michael Shelby.”

“I- ...I love you too Y/n M/n- hiccup Shelby.” The drowsiness and the “hics” were already starting to show. Y/n let out a small giggle at her man-child and helped him steady himself before walking him home. It’s safe to say that when they got home, Y/n and Tommy had the best sleep they’d ever had in their entire lives.

Proud of me and my short list of accomplishments, say, And me and my lack of new news. Me and my selfishness, oh me and myself, Wish you nothing but a happy new version of you

‘It’s or god damn anniversary. What the fuck am I going to get her?’ Thoughts like these filled Tommy’s head. Indeed, it was their anniversary and he did have nothing to give her. She was always so creative with her gifts.

A portrait of him, a new pair of knickers (A/N BACK THEN, THOSE WERE WHAT SOCKS WERE CALLED SO SHH) that were specially made for him, and some nice other stuff. Sometimes she even got her brothers-in-law or Charlie to help out. Her plans could never be foiled but they could certainly interrupt Tommy’s.

He gave up and sat down at his desk. There was still one more thing he could do. “Charles? Charlie, could you come here for a moment?” In rushed the little boy that resembled the Peaky leader.

“Yes dad?”

“I need your help. Do you have any ideas of a gift your mummy might like?”

Charlie thought for a moment before looking up at his father slowly and nodding. He ran off and out of the room, returning with a paper and pen. He handed them to his father and skipped too the doorway.

“Wait. Why would you mother want my to draw something?”

“No dad. Write something. Write about her.” Charlie finished off his help with a smile and continued skipping back to his mum. Y/n was still pregnant, only 8 months into said pregnancy. She was quite excited, so were Tommy and Charlie. A new addition to their small family.

Tommy sat down with the tools he was given. He rubbed his temples with confusion and thought. As he touched the pen to the page, he let his thoughts and emotions take control. Whoever knew Thomas Shelby was full of such beautiful poetry?

He finished writing and trifolded the paper with a large grin on his face. How did he not think of this? The idea was brilliant. No, his son and the idea were brilliant. The paper in his hands came from his heart as well as his child’s mind. A true gift made of genuine love.

The time came for the couple to hand each other their gifts. Tommy had received a photo album of their family so far, and a small portrait of them Y/n had made for Tommy’s desk. She tilted her head at the small paper she was handed, the smile Tommy loved appearing on her face when she noticed his familiar handwriting. She read it aloud after Charlie complained over and over again that he wanted to know what it said.

“My dearest Y/n, I know that we’re married now, and parents, so you must now at least a tiny sum of how much I love you, right? You stole my heart as soon as you were in my line of sight, I belonged to you right then and there, I just didn’t know it until two years later. It took me those two years to find out just how much I wanted you and how much I needed you.

I know it would be dramatic to say that I needed you, but it’s true. I was a 17 year old boy, not wise in the slightest and certainly not charming. When you confessed your love to me, I was 19, but you made my world seem brighter. I swear, my heart started to beat faster and faster.

We were only children. Okay so maybe not only children, but still, so young but so deeply in love. When I left for war, I missed you every second. My heart reminded me that you were one of the things I was fighting for. It reminded me that I needed to come home to find you and let you know that I wanted to marry you and make you mine forever. Unfortunately, I grew insecure with the marriage part.

I had feared that I wasn’t enough. I’m a Peaky fucking Binder for fucks sake! I didn’t do much in my life except for steal your heart and fight for my country. Why on earth would you love me? I was also a selfish man. Wanting your attention 98% of the time, and I still do, I’m selfish and there’s nothing else I can tell you.

You probably might just hate me and act like you don’t since you’re married to me and have a child with me....but what I really want you to know is that I love you more than life itself. I love you more than the stars, I love you and your insecurities. I love all of you, Y/n M/n Shelby.” 

She finished reading it with puffy eyes and a cracked voice. Her heart couldn’t handle it, Tommy’s words filled her with joy and a sweet melancholy feel. It wasn’t the sad kind, it was more of happy and hurt for him.

Because I, I mmm, mmm, yeah, I want you to tell me you find it hard to be yourself so I can say, "It's gonna be alright"

And I want you to love me the way you love your family, The way you love to show me what it's like...To be happy

"Y/n? What has you so worried? It’s almost time to go.”

“Exactly.” Thomas gave his wife a confused look, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back softly. “Well ya know...we’re going to meet my parents.”

“And? I already knew of that Y/n, that’s why I said it’s almost time to go. What’s really wrong? You can tell my, my love.”

“My parents. I- I’m scared that... that they won’t approve of you or the kids. I’m scared that I’ll have to put on a fake persona all over again. It’s just so scary and so hard...”

Tommy leaned on his wife’s shoulder. It was often that she got scared about this. It had been scheduled for about a month now. Ruby and Charlie’s grandmother heard of them and the couple’s marriage, she demanded that her and her husband meet the kids and the “lucky man.”

“It’ll be alright, we’re a family, family sticks together. I love you so so so much Y/n. You have no idea.”

“Mhm. Last night said otherwise.”

“I love you more than that!” He tickled her sides until she was begging for him to stop, laughter and playful cries for help filled the room. They pressed their lips together once they had calmed.

. . .

“Mom. Dad. This, is Thomas, but you can call him Tommy.” Y/f/n shook Tommy’s hand and watched as Tommy pressed a soft kiss to Y/m/n’s hand. He wrapped his arm around Y/n once more before they introduced their children to the Y/l/ns. “This is my son, Charles, and my daughter, Ruby. Although, Charles says he prefers being called Charlie.”

Her mother and father smiled at the family opposite to them. “Welcome home!”

Y/m/n and Y/f/n led Charlie and Ruby to the kitchen for some treats as Y/n and Tommy took off their coats. Tommy didn’t feel like Y/n had explained her family in full detail. Confusion clouded his brain. He brushed it off, seeing as it was a normal thing for grandparents to spoil their grandchildren with treats and candy.

A younger looking woman walked down the stairs with an even younger looking boy. They both looked like Y/n, so Tommy guessed right away that they were either siblings or cousins. Both hugged Y/n and stopped to talk to her.

“Oh! Guys, meet my husband, Tommy! Charlie and Ruby are both in the kitchen with mom and dad. Tommy, these are my little siblings.”

“Nice to meet you Tommy, I’m y/b/n.” The boy spoke. He shook hands with Tommy and walked into the kitchen. The girl greeted him next, “Hello! I’m Y/s/n. Thank you for loving and taking care of my sister. I apologize about Y/b/n, he can be very...shy.”

“That’s fine, I understand his trust issues. I wouldn’t trust a man Ada brought home if I’d never met him fully.”

“Ada? Is she the sister I’ve heard about?” Tommy didn’t know what she meant, but nodded at Y/s/n. She smiled and grabbed Y/n’s hand. “Y/n sent me letters about you guys and your family, she loves you a lot, ya know?”

Before Tommy could respond, Y/n was pushing Y/s/n to the kitchen. “Oookay that’s enough talking for you two. Mom, is dinner ready yet?”

“Yes dear. Everyone, come sit!”

The dinner table was clothed in a cute table cloth, plates of food and glasses of drinks decorated the top of it. Lively conversation started, smiles and laughs galore. It wasn’t something Tommy was really used to. The kids seemed to be enjoying it, so he was somewhat relaxed.

They passed food to each other, Charlie and Ruby earning winks when they asked if they could have a little bit more of something. When Tommy bit into his food, he smiled. It tasted amazing. This was a new environment for him. Laughter and hugs everywhere.

“Thank you Mrs. Y/l/n. This is very good.”

“Aw! You’re welcome Tommy, and please, feel free to call me mom or Y/m/n!”

The rest of the night was spend like that. No hatred, no mention of crime, no work, no anger. Just family, love and support. Tommy decided that it felt nice and that it was a little better than dinner with his family. He loved his family, but he had never seen a family love each other this much.

Y/n and Tommy were given a guest room to stay in for the night. Their children were sleeping in Y/n’s old room. A sigh of relief from the long day left Tommy’s mouth as Y/n kissed up his neck from behind him. He was nervous to meet her family, but now it felt like that nervousness was not even worth it. Y/n’s family was amazing, friendly, and funny. Her serious father and brother had dropped their protective personas after a bit and got to know Tommy a bit more.

Bedtime finally rolled around and Y/n and Tommy wanted their alone time. They hadn’t had much since Ruby was born, so this only made the trip worth it even more. Y/n’s delicate hands massaged Tommy’s shoulders. They were tense and sore, probably from all the working and worrying he had been doing, but Y/n was happy to help.

“Love?”

“Yes Tommy?”

“Your family...you guys are really close, aren’t you?”

She stopped rubbing his shoulders and looked at him. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Y/n moved around him and sat in his lap, “Yes, I suppose we are...why do you ask? Aren’t you close with yours?”

“Well yes, of course but...” His hand rested on her thigh, rubbing it every so often. “I never knew a family like yours. You guys are so happy and trusting, your parents are so kind, and your siblings are funny and smart. I can see it in your eyes.”

“See what?”

“When you sip your wine and look over at your family...you love them a lot. The look in your eyes is rare, yet comforting.”

Y/n didn’t get what he was hinting at for a few minutes. Her hands brushed through Tommy’s hair once she finally realized. A moment of silence was shared, just Y/n combing her fingers through Tommy’s hair and Tommy rubbing Y/n’s thigh with a small half smile.

“Tommy. I love you, a lot. I love you and Charlie and Ruby. You guys are my world, you guys are my life, you guys are my present and my future. You guys make me so fucking happy. You have no idea how much I love you three. When I look at my family, I see the people I grew up with. I see the people who raised me and taught me almost everything I know. But when I look at you. I see my husband, the light of my life, the man who stole my heart and refused to give it back. I see the father of my children, the keeper of the key to my heart. The man who could get me to do almost anything with a simple smile. When I look at you and our little ones, I see the finishing touch to my family. I see my purpose in life.”

“I-” He didn’t know how to respond. And that was okay.

“I love you Thomas Michael Shelby.”

“I love you too Y/n M/n Shelby.”

Their lips pressed together for the final time that night before they went to sleep. This kiss was passionate and true. This kiss shared love. This kiss was beautiful. And this kiss helped show Tommy the true meaning of Happiness.