#Shelby family fanfiction

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Escape to the Eden Club - Sister! reader x Shelby Brothers

Summary; Emily Shelby wants to spend the night away from the confines of Small Heath and decides to head out to the famed Eden Club of London. All was well until a certain trio arrived and reigned havoc.

Author's Note; I took some liberties with the plot/ location of the Eden Club itself. That being said, this is still meant to be aligned closely with the fight scene from season 2. As always, let me know what you think.

Eager to escape into the cool evening air, Emily wrapped her shawl loosely around her shoulders and took stock of her purse. A small roll of bills, lipstick, a dainty opal hairbrush, and a shining Colt Pocket Hammerless Arthur had given her some time ago. With one last glance to the mirror, she smoothed out her dress and went for her bedroom door, shutting it softly behind her. Seeing as Polly would still be at the church for sometime, she decided it would be best to inform her brother on her intentions. Emily approached Thomas’ office and peered in to see the stout man sitting behind his modest desk. She rapped lightly on the door frame and was beckoned inside by just a flick of her brother’s eyes instead of a word. After only taking one step into the room she spoke in the most clear, confident tone she could muster.

“I’m going out with Ada this evening. I’ll be back by midnight.” Hoping the conversation would end there she turned to leave only to be stopped by her brothers words. Still not looking up from the papers spread across the wood before him he cleared his throat and said,

“Going out with Ada, eh? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” Emily rolled her eyes, hoping her brother didn’t see, and replied,

“Because I didn’t think there would be any issue.” Emily didn’t like lying, a quality instilled in her by her Aunt Polly since her youth. Though, as a Shelby, it came naturally. Exhausting Emily further, Thomas continued in his questioning. 

“Where about are you two going?” Calmer this time, as to not arouse suspicion, the girl replied, 

“Just to dinner, in Digbeth.” 

“The name of the establishment?” With more attitude, she replied, 

“The Carriage.” The man sat for a moment, only sparing her one more glance as he searched her face for deceit. He apparently found none. 

“Be back by 11.” Emily offered a small smile and made her way out of the home on Watery Lane, calling over her shoulder, 

“I’ll see you at 11:30, Tom.” 

The night was still young and the chance for her to walk the streets of Birmingham alone and untethered was an excitement of a life time. She wouldn’t just be walking the streets of her hometown tonight, though. After meeting her friend Scarlett by the cut they hailed a cab and set out for London. 

The passage was just under 2 hours before they arrived to the Eden Club just outside of the city. After tipping the cabman and exiting out into the brisk night they set for the front doors of the avant-garde establishment. Scarlet giggled with excitement as they approached the doorman who knew better than to question two striking young women trying to enter the club. The main hall filled was filled with the smell of smoke and sex and the band played on to ring in the young night. It wasn’t often that Emily got to leave the holdings of Small Health, let alone the claws of her brothers. After Ada’s departure, Thomas was more worried than ever about loosing his youngest sister. This fear often manifested into the overarching control of Emily’s every move. He felt it was both an act of love and an act of necessity. Emily knew she was deeply loved by her brother and cared for him in the same way. Yet, at the end of the day, if Tom could have his thumb on the pulse of every member of the family, only then could he ensure their safety, or so he believed. 

“Isn’t this amazing!” Scarlett squealed in Emily’s ear. Scarlett was one of the few friends that Thomas approved of. She came from a respectable, working-class family who raised horses and often did work with the Shelby family. 

“I know.” Emily said back, raising her voice to soar over the loud music. The pair approached the bar and beckoned the attendant for a drink. Soon after, two men approached the women introducing themselves as Paul, a tall man with short black hair in a pressed grey suit, and David, a slightly stout man with dusty blonde hair and rosy cheeks who’s slim black suit made him look taller than he was. Paul explained that Emily had caught his eye from the moment she had walked in and it would be a crime to let a woman like herself buy her own drinks. It was only out of the confines of Birmingham that handsome men would approach her, unafraid of people she was related to. She could speak freely and finally feel a sense of control she was never afforded at home. 

“Would you care to dance?” Paul asked the young woman and carefully took her hand in his. They left their drinks at the table where David and Scarlett sat completely enthralled with one another. He led her to the dance floor just as a new song started over at the bands stage. Spinning around the floor Emily couldn’t help but laugh at the happiness she felt in Paul’s arms. He leaned in close to her face and breathed, 

“You are absolutely stunning.” His breath smelled of bourbon and lust. This was Emily’s dream; to be young and free. Finally she was living it. 

She only noticed the violent outburst taking place across the large room once she heard the crashing noise of a wooden table full of glassware hit the ground. The band cut to a halt and gasps filled the audience. Out of instinct, Paul shoved Emily behind him as he assessed the situation. When it became clear that the men dressed in black meant to do harm he ushered his date back to their table to collect their friends and make a run for the door. Through the crowd, Emily peered over the bobbing heads of patrons ducking and running at the chaos she noticed a familiar jacket fly up as one of the unknown assailants struck another man across the face. As he turned to face another man she saw the face of her brother adorned with a busted lip and small drops of another mans blood. 

“Fuck.” She whispered and made a run for her table. Scarlett and her companion had already gathered their things and stood to meet the other couple. The four of them hid behind the large sofa they had once sat on while they waited for a path to clear to the main exit of the building. Emily grabbed her friend by the arm and swung the girl around to meet her scared face. The two men were conversing anxiously at the best plan of escape while the women spoke in hushed words. 

“It my fucking brother!” 

“What?” Scarlett gasped “Are you sure?” The two women peered over the couch to see the men still going at it near the center of the room. This time, Arthur’s face came into view through the madness. 

“Fuck it’s the lot of them. We need to go. Now!” Emily shoved the other girl forward and the men followed suit. A gunshot rang out through the building and they all dropped to the floor covering their heads. Paul grabbed Emily’s shoulders hovered his body over hers to protect her. When the men quit fighting and stood to see where the shot had come from all became quiet. The four took this opportunity to head straight for the exit. Emily only heard the indistinct echo of Tommy’s voice before clearing the doorway. 

Pouring into the street patrons ran every conceivable direction to vacate the path of anymore possible bullets. After reaching the end of the block Paul spoke, out of breath. 

“Is everyone ok?” Each took their turn affirming that they were not hurt, just a bit shaken. Emily turned to her friend communicating with just their eyes that they all needed to get leave before her brothers had a chance to exit the building. “Alright, I need to get you home.” Paul said and took Emily’s shoulder and David followed suit with Scarlett. 

“No!” Emily said too forcefully, “I - We will get home, I promise. You need to get on your way,” she explained gently. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to go anywhere with Paul, that handsome, caring gentleman. He stood firm on his words and said again,

“Emily, really, I need to make sure you get home. I don’t know who the fuck those bastards were.” Scarlett let out a worried laugh at the irony of the situation and still couldn’t take her eyes off the doorway expecting any moment that the men would emerge and see them. Emily took her arm from him though it pained her to do so. 

“Please, Paul, really. You need to get going.” She said urgently. He took a step back and dropped his eyes to the ground, looking hurt. Defeated, he touched David on the shoulder, prompting him to let go of Scarlett’s arm. 

“It was lovely meeting you,” was all he spoke before turning and walking off into the dark alley way. Emily rifled around in her purse and pulled out some small bills shoving them into Scarlett’s hand. 

“Go. Now!” She said before beginning to turn away. 

“What? I’m not leaving you!” Her friend yelled back, grabbing onto her wrist, stopping her movement.

“Scarlett, go! Please. Before they come out.” She pleaded. Even her friend knew that there would be hell to pay if her family found out that she had been running around, getting into trouble with the Shelby girl. With eyes darting between the front door of the Eden Club and Emily’s worried expression Scarlett forced herself to embrace her friend. 

“Please be safe.” Emily nodded in response and they both took off into opposite directions. After quickly crossing in front of the building, the younger Shelby tried her best to hail a cab as many former club goers tried to do the same. Every few seconds she found herself looking over her shoulder praying that she wouldn’t turn to find her brother’s red face looking back at her. After a few failed attempts she saw a empty taxi just across the way parked right next to the entrance of the club. If she hurried, she might just be able to make it before her brothers emerged. With a quick decision she bolted as fast as her heels would carry her across the street and made it just steps the the cab door before she felt the shoulder of a much larger man connect with her own. As she was shoved back onto the hood of the cab she couldn’t help but shout,

“watch where yer’ fucking goin!” Just as any other Shelby would. She watched in anger as that very man climbed into the cab himself and the car began to drive away forcing her to move back onto the side walk. Collecting herself and still cursing the man under her breath she only made it a few steps from her place in front of the club before she heard her name called from behind her. 

It was John. The word pierced her soul like a knife. Without thinking, she swung around to see him standing only about 10 feet behind her as Thomas and Arthur filed out of the door. Without a second to reconsider, she ran. Though slowed down by her shoes and the lingering effects of alcohol, she carried herself briskly down the street. 

“Emily Lenora Shelby!” She heard Arthur roar from behind her. Continuing down the sidewalk shoving between the still clearing crowd she did not stop. Just before she reached the nearest intersection a strong hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around causing her to stumble. She was caught by her oldest brother’s hands of either shoulder lightly shaking her to emphasize each word as they came from his red, blood splattered face. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you bloody mental?” She squinted to shield herself from the yelling as she put her hands to his chest to push him away. He wasn’t planning on letting her go lest she run again until he felt the hand of Tom guide him away from the younger girl. She almost preferred the outright rage of Arthur over the chilling coldness of Thomas, at least with the former, his true intentions were always clear. John soon arrived behind the men and took to consoling Arthur while Thomas pushed the girl to side of the road. Unwilling, she attempted to hold her ground against the man though a stronger grip on her upper arm and a stern look from his piercing eyes encouraged her to comply. She kept her head low has he was still catching his breath from the conflict and subsequent jog to catch his fleeing sister. Finally, in a low, gruff voice, he spoke. 

“In the club, ye?” She nodded her head but still wouldn’t meet the man’s eyes. Instead, she peered past him to see John and Arthur leaned in close to one another talking. Arthur waving his hands around like a lunatic while John tries to calm him down. Out of all her brothers, her and John butted heads the most. Maybe it was the age difference, sitting at just enough years to give them not much in common but enough to argue about. Though, when it was all said and done, she knew John would have her back just as much, if not more, than anyone else. She met his eyes in a quick glance before turning back to Tom’s shoes. Now, the more pragmatic Shelby took in a deep breath to gather his thoughts before continuing the conversation with his sister. 

“Why? Eh?” He said quieter this time. She couldn’t tell if his low voice was an attempt to deescalate the situation or to intimidate her into telling the truth. Well, the truth as it may be, wasn’t that interesting. Emily shrugged and only spared him a small glance up. She went to the Eden club that evening for the same reason as any other girl of her year would; to have fun. 

“You have no business being at those clubs. Getting yourself fucking killed, right?” He said lowering himself to her level, even closer to her face. Her jaw tensed as she thought of a thousand words she could say back to him.

“Everything was fine until you bastards shot up the place.”

“Weren’t you just at the same club, Tom?”

“It’s none of your business what I do.”

Using her better judgment though, she held her tongue. The irony of the situation was not lost on Tommy. He knew that the standard he held for his sister was much different than he held for the men of the family, though he held it steadfast. At the end of the day, he knew Emily was a good girl. Smart, calculated, quick, and usually honest. When the silence hung in the air for too long, he took a gentle hand and guided her face to meet his eyes. 

“Don’t scare me like that again.” He said pointedly with his finger pointed at her face. Emily pursed her lips and gave a curt nod before he pulled her in for a quick but firm hug and placed one kiss on the top of her head. Trying to break away from the clutches are her brother once more she took a step away from Thomas and said, 

“I’ll see you at home,” before attempting to leave in the opposite direction. He let out a sigh once again and wrapped a strong, possessive hand around her arm once more. His lips parted and he eyebrow went up in astonishment, almost as if he was testing her to defy him once again. She looked in his eyes a moment longer, unwavering, before following him back to the other men. Thomas cleared his throat and released the grasp on the girl before speaking, 

“Let’s just go home, shall we.” The four walked in uncomfortable silence back to the car, just over a block away from the fateful scene. As they walked, her oldest brother moved closer to her eventually putting a hand on her upper back and bending down to her level.

“You knows I just want to protect you, right, love?” He offered in a nicer tone than before. Emily knew and nodded a reply. 

“I know.” 

“It’s just you can’t go running around like that.” Before he could get another sentence out, Thomas called out from the front of the group. 

“She knows, brother.”  They eventually made it to the Bentley and it was John that opened the door for his sister to enter the back seat. As she took the less-than-sober step up into the vehicle her brother gently pushed her, just to see how unstable she was.

“Acting like a fuckin’ harlot,” John laughed quietly to chastise the younger girl. Quickly, Emily turned to face him hunched over in the car and raised her purse as if she was going to hit him. 

“Oi, you fuckin’ bastard!” She seethed. Before the two could go at it Thomas darted a look at them in the rear view mirror and raised his voice in a menacing shout. 

“Enough!” Was all it took for the pair to quiet down and sit silently for the rest of the ride home. 

#cillian murphy fanfiction #tommy Shelby fanfition #Shelby family #peaky blinder fanfiction #Shelby sister fanfiction #tommy shelby x sister!reader #writing #Shelby family fanfiction #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #futurefamousdeadmusician #fanfiction

[prettybillycore]

happy birthday blog, I can’t believe how old you are

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove my beloved #harringrove #steve harrington #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #stranger things #billy hargrove is traumatized and so am i #billy hargrove deserved better #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #fanfic writing #fanfiction writer #tumblr birthday #i love yall #birthday #dean and cas #destiel #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders

[serendipitiashelby]

Serendipitia | Thomas Shelby fanfic MOODBOARD

SINOPSE No período do pós-guerra, Noemi Stein retorna à Birmingham, onde retoma seu elo com Ada Shelby, também sua aliada política no perigoso movimento sufragista. Compartilhando um pequeno sobrado pelas apertadas ruelas de Small Heath, passam a planejar a abertura da primeira livraria da região. Entre ideias eufóricas (e necessidade de dinheiro para financiar o imóvel), Ada leva Noemi a uma grande festividade da família Shelby. É ali que Noemi conhece, pelo encanto dos encontros fortuitos e inesperados,

onde, pelo poder da serendipidade, encontraria aquele que

um amor que nunca estaria escrito nos livros da futura livraria. Er

LEIA NO WATTPAD

MOODBOARD

#thomasshelby #cillianmurphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #ada shelby #arthur shelby #polly gray #luca changretta #john shelby #shelby family

[hb-writes]

Little Lady Blinder - Chapter 31

Creature Without A Heart, 1919

Also available here on ff net or here on AO3.

Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content, Clara's scared of cars. That's about it, I think.

John left the shop huffing and banging the breakfast tray against all that was in his way. He'd nearly told Tommy to fuck off when he'd suggested John take the remnants of Clara's conference with him when he go, but then John thought better of it. He'd been chewed out by Tommy enough already for one morning. He didn't want to get chewed out again...especially not over something stupid as a bit of housekeeping.

It wasn't even about him, not really. John had convinced himself that whatever had happened in the last quarter of an hour hadn't been about him. It had been about Tommy and it had been about Clara, but they'd both taken it out on John.

Clara was stropping about like a brat over something Tommy must've done or said, but John was the one who'd caught her wrath. And even after her show and dance, it had been John who left the meeting having received Tommy's insufferable stares and his short words.

And so what if John had let Clara borrow a cap with a blade still sewn in? So what? She was smart enough to keep her hands free of that sort of trouble. Or that's what everyone always said—that their Clara was so bloody brilliant and clever. But even if it gave a viable explanation as to why Tommy was short with John, it didn't explain whatever problem it was his sister seemed to have with him.

And Tommy had been no help in figuring it out. He offered no explanation for their sister's mood or his easy dismissal of it. John supposed it was fairly typical, that. They never explained themselves. They didn't seem to think they owed it to the rest of them and John just couldn't follow it anymore—the shifts and twists of what was permitted and what wasn't, who Clara was happy with and who she wasn't.

Tommy seemed to be unhappy with most people most of the time. At least that bit was predictable.

But Clara…well, John thought he had been in a good place with his sister. She'd been happy enough when he sent her off with Finn on his little delivery errand. And Finn said they'd delivered their letter. There'd been no problems to report.

John thought Clara would be happy to help out with the kids, happy for an opportunity to get to know Lizzie a bit. He had hoped Clara's presence to wrangle his lot would help endear the kids to Lizzie. He'd thought it was a good plan, but as seemed to be the way of things now, Tommy'd somehow gotten in the middle of things. John's brother was none the wiser to his plans—he'd told no one but Clara about Lizzie—but he was still mucking things up.

John let the breakfast tray slam down on the table when he set it down, clattering the carefully placed dishes and rattling the cutlery. He picked up the remnants of Clara's jam-smothered bread and bit into it. There was no sense in wasting a perfectly good breakfast.

John washed the bread down with the leftover tea—room temperature and overly steeped. He grimaced as he swallowed it down, his gaze catching sight of Clara as he glanced up.

She was positioned on a spare chair that lived deep in the far corner of the room. Clara was surely intent on staying out of sight and she was barely breathing for fear of being spotted, but John knew she was there. And with her face hidden behind a book, which was no surprise. At least that, too, was still predictable.

John ignored her. He swiped a finger across the plate, collecting the fallen jam and carrying it to his mouth. The faintest hint of a smile crossed Clara's mouth as he did it. John went back for a second and a third swipe, making certain the plate was clean.

John looked up, locking his gaze on Clara for a moment. She quickly smoothed her face of any reaction, lifting her book so it covered most of her face again.

John scoffed, mistaking Clara's avoidance and uncertainty for a continuation of their earlier exchange. The heat of anger rushed through him, leaching into his tone as he moved toward the door.

"I'm leaving by seven. Don't be fucking late, alright?"

John paused by the front door, waiting, and then circling back to the dining room when he didn't hear Clara respond. If it had been Tommy asking, John imagined his sister would've given an answer. She wouldn't be ignoring him, acting like such a brat, and if he did, Tommy wouldn't let her get away with it.

John stalked back to the corner where she had stood in the dining room just before, ready to demand his answer, but he found the room empty. He checked the kitchen—that, too, was empty.

The book she'd been holding was now sitting on the table. It had been no more than a few seconds that had passed. John knew she couldn't have gone far.

A creaky floorboard squealed behind him, the sound he recognized as coming from the wood making up the fourth step leading up the stairs. John moved to the bottom of the staircase. Clara stood there a few steps about him with her eyes tightly closed, one foot lifted in the air while she braced herself against the wall.

It dawned on John she'd been hiding from him, a realization that stung more than he had maturity enough to admit. John was used to being the one Clara ran to for a bit of shelter. She didn't hide from him, not unless he'd threatened to tickle the life out of her. Seeing her like this, it prickled, but the sting of Clara's uneasiness with John was less sharp than the sting of everything else that morning.

"Oi!" John shouted. "Get down here."

Clara opened her eyes, startled by John's sudden presence at the bottom of the stairs. She took tentative movements until she stood just one step above him.

"I said be down to my place before seven. Did you hear me?"

Clara nodded.

"Good," he answered. He reached out and tugged his borrowed cap from her head. "And this isn't a fucking toy."

Clara's hair fell down around her as John pulled the cap free. She'd carefully stuck it all away in his cap to prevent it from getting dirty and tangled at the yard, but that effort was all wasted now. Frustration prickled at the edges of Clara's eyes. Her emotion was so near to boiling over once again, but Clara tried to hold it back, squeezing her fists and eyes closed.

John sighed before reaching out for her. Clara flinched, batting his arm away with one arm while she pushed at his middle with the other. "Enough, alright?" John caught her wrist, his hold more gentle than she was expecting. "I'm just trying to help with that mess on your head."

Clara relaxed a bit at that and John tossed the hat on the table behind him before setting both hands on Clara's shoulders to turn her about. John ran his fingers through his sister's hair, snagging on the tangles she'd made stuffing it all up into the hat. Clara flinched at the pulling, but she didn't complain, simply squeezing her eyes shut against the pain until John started weaving her long tresses, pulling the hair tight across her scalp and making her head jerk whichever way he pulled.

John was usually more gentle, but Clara accepted his rough handling as a better alternative to more shouting. And she knew better than to say something. When she complained about Polly pulling too tight, Clara could swear the woman somehow managed to pull her hair even tighter.

Clara winced at one particularly tight tug, an impulsive hiss coming through her lips as she involuntarily pulled away from her brother, doing more harm than good as the hair strained more against her scalp. John paused his braiding as Clara straightened up, softening his grip as he continued.

"Ribbon." John held out his hand.

Clara loosened the ribbon tied around her wrist and passed it up to John. She pressed the heels of her palm into her watering eyes.

"So, you'll be to the house by seven," John started as he worked to tie off her braid. "And Lizzie should be there by—"

"Lizzie Stark?" Clara turned to John, her stomach clenching at the thought of seeing the woman and the fact that she might tell John about what had happened when she and Finn delivered the letter. John was already sore with her. She imagined her brother would make no effort to keep her secret if Lizzie told him under the present circumstances.

John raised an eyebrow. "I told you yesterday she was sitting with them. What other Lizzie do you know?"

Clara ticked off a silent, involuntary list in her head—Aunt Polly was technically a Lizzie, and there was Lizzie Weston from two lanes down. At least two Lizzies went to the local school as well, but Clara didn't say so.

John had been expecting her to, but Clara just shrugged, scuffing her boot at the edge of the step narrowly missing John's leg.

"Alright, what's with you?"

Clara shrugged again and John forced her chin up so her eyes met his. John nodded to his left, toward the shop doors. He lowered his voice. "What happened in there with—?"

"Nothing," Clara mumbled, pushing his hand away.

John shook his head, looking over his shoulder once again. "Don't worry about him, alright? He—"

"He didn't do anything," Clara answered, resting against the wall and folding her arms over her chest.

"Alright," John conceded, mimicking her gesture. "What did you do, then?"

Clara shook her head. "Nothing."

John scoffed. "So all that—" he waved a hand back toward the shop. "—and all this—" he swirled the same hand in the space between them. "—was over nothing?"

Clara nodded and after a beat, John nodded, too. He pressed his lips into a considerate line for a moment and continued bobbing his head in thought, but it was just for show. He didn't believe her—not by a long shot. Clara and Tommy were always getting after each other over something. Some siblings fought over nothing. Small, insignificant things. It was never just nothing with Clara and Tommy, though. Tommy and Clara were also notoriously secretive about it. They preferred to keep their issues private, something just between the two of them. The rest of the family was rarely spared the details. They were always allowed to suffer through Clara and Tommy being difficult and insufferable though.

"And what about now?" John asked. "You still grumpy over nothing now?"

Clara glanced at him, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not grumpy."

"You sure look grumpy."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," John said, pressing his finger into the skin between her eyebrows. "Right here," he said. He moved his hand, pressing his thumb and pointer finger into the corners of her mouth. "And here."

Clara pushed his hand away, knowing that John was probably right. She wasn't anywhere close to smiling and her words were short, the few she'd spared had been hissed in a sharp tone. Clara had a moment of thinking it was normal though. It was the way most adults were—grumpy and tired. A little sad. A little mean.

John was the only adult Clara knew who smiled and laughed and carried on as he did. It couldn't be a coincidence that people often called him childish and told him to grow up. John was looking at her, waiting on some sort of response and Clara was grateful for the sound of movement out in the shop.

"Tommy'll be waiting for me," Clara said.

John peddled his foot back to glance through the shop doors. Their brother wasn't even out of his office yet, but John knew he'd be calling for her soon enough, blaming him for her dalliance if she wasn't at his side within seconds.

John sighed before grabbing the cap from the table. He ripped the blade from the brim with his teeth and tossed it at his sister.

"Seven o'clock," John said. "Don't be late."

He headed for the door, stepping out onto the lane just before Tommy found his way to the foot of the stairs where his sister stood staring at John's invisible wake.

Clara stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep them from reaching out for Tommy as they walked toward Uncle Charlie's yard. She'd never thought about it before, but maybe eleven was too old to be holding her brother's hand, just like it was too old for crying and too old for looking anything but grumpy as a matter of principle.

The older girls at the school, the ones who had stayed on past the leaving age, were always been holding hands with boys in their class or the boys they met at the end of the school day to walk home with. So, it wasn't that she was too old to hold hands, but there was something different about it. Holding hands when you got older was something else, something Clara hadn't given much thought to.

Holding hands and going out on dates…having weddings, and houses, and jobs, and babies—those were things adults thought about. And unless all of that pertained to her brothers and sisters, Clara didn't think about it much, not concerning herself. But she had the thought that maybe she was meant to be thinking about those things now rather than wondering whether she should be holding her brother's hand or not.

Maybe she should be thinking about all that instead of the silly worries she couldn't seem to put aside. Tommy didn't seem worried—not about leaving her behind for the day or about the parish taking her away. He'd shown some concern about Ada, but with an almost mechanical air, he'd seemingly shut off that part of him and Clara had decided that his concern was completely eclipsed by her own. She was far more troubled by all of it than Tommy was.

She was far more troubled than all of them, it felt.

Even Finn wasn't worried and it was his backside on the line just as much as Clara's. He wasn't fazed by the prospect of getting found out about scrapping or coppers or the parish. He'd told her she was being silly.

And Clara could concede that maybe she was. Being silly, that is. Childish.

So rather than reaching out for Tommy's hand, rather than leaning into the comfort she felt certain her brother wouldn't deny her, Clara kept her hands to herself. She kept it all to herself, once again closed up and quiet as they walked through Small Heath. She wasn't even aware of Tommy watching her as she tried to sort herself.

But he was watching, tracking her out of the corner of his eye though they weren't speaking. Tommy's mind was intentionally set on the details of the day ahead. He needed to run through his plan again, make sure he wasn't missing something, but his sister's contemplative quiet—something he'd usually be grateful for on a day like today—troubled him. It distracted him.

And Tommy Shelby couldn't afford distractions. Not today.

"Don't worry about John, alright?" Tommy said around the cigarette he was lighting in his mouth. He didn't know what had passed between her and John back at the house, but he could see she'd been changed by it.

Clara focused her attention on the pebble she'd been courting, kicking it along with them since they turned onto Garrison Lane.

Truth was, all she was doing was worrying about the whole roster of Shelbys and herself. It seemed to Clara that all she did these days was worry, turning things over and over in her mind until she barely had the strength to keep on with it. And it was exhausting—mentally, physically, and emotionally, though Clara didn't recognize it for what it was. She just knew she was tired. She couldn't sleep. If she could, maybe she wouldn't be feeling this way all the time, but she didn't recognize the connection between the sleep and the troubling thoughts. She couldn't see the symbiotic way the two things fed each other, and she didn't feel like asking. She was too tired for more conversation with her brother about all of the silly, childish worries plaguing her mind.

Clara tried focusing on the rock instead, but the extra focus only served to make the pebble stray out of her reach and into her brother's path.

"Sorry—"

Tommy tapped the pebble back her way, cutting off her apology.

"I'm not worried," she offered, still trying to keep her focus on the pebble.

The truth was, Clara wasn't really too worried about John. He'd braided her hair, after all. She'd been hurt by his comment and he'd clearly been upset with her, but John never stayed mad at her for long. He rarely let her stay mad for long, either. John wasn't patient with tension like Tommy was. It made John uncomfortable. And John didn't like being uncomfortable. He couldn't keep his mouth shut about it and endure it. He never maintained long-standing grudges without taking some sort of action. He always blew things right up.

And anyway, it seemed to Clara that John was more upset with Tommy than he was with her.

Still, Tommy didn't believe Clara's assertion that she wasn't worried. And rightfully so. He didn't answer her, but Tommy had picked up the pace, moving them along toward the yard, something pulling him to be closer to the horses and the Cut. Something more than his awareness of the steady movements of the hands of his pocket watch.

Clara left the pebble behind as she tried to keep up with her brother. It was for the best that she left the distraction behind. It was difficult enough to keep up with Tommy's pace through the empty streets.

Tommy reached the gates to their uncle's yard a few paces before Clara did, pulling open the gate before she reached his side. He ran a hand over the back of Clara's head, messing with the positioning of her flat cap as he guided her through.

She quickly moved away from Tommy's touch and repositioned the cap, turning back to him as he secured the gate's lock.

"He took the blade out," Clara said. She'd heard John and Tommy arguing over it. She assumed Tommy's shouting was why John had been so rough about it with her. And it wasn't fair. Clara knew the blame wasn't all John's to hold. "And it was my fault for taking it yesterday without asking so it's me who you should've—"

"John's old enough to know better."

Tommy finished up with the lock before turning to his sister.

"And you are, too, eh?" Clara felt the heat rush to her cheeks at the admonishment. Even though his words were light, with no hint of threat…she swallowed a hard, nervous lump forming in her throat.

She was old enough to know better. Tommy and Polly had told her and Finn more than once not to be taking things without asking. She hadn't technically lied to Tommy about John giving the hat to her to borrow, but she had allowed Finn to do it on her behalf without speaking up. And lying and stealing were two things Tommy knew she knew better than to do.

Tommy was still looking at her and waiting on some sort of acknowledgment. He was grateful when Clara quickly nodded her understanding. Tommy promptly fished the pocketwatch out, glancing at the time. Their schedule was tighter than he wanted—John's nonsense and Clara's dallying with the pebble had slowed them down, but so long as Charlie had the car ready and they didn't linger too long with the horses, he'd keep his schedule for getting on the road to Cheltenham.

"No time to ride today, but you can visit for a few minutes."

Riding hadn't even been on Clara's mind. Tommy was dressed in his new suit—already being careful of the puddles and dirt as they walked. She hadn't expected that kind of indulgence, but with Tommy's mention of the ride she wouldn't be having, Clara felt disappointment settle into the pit of her stomach. A ride out with Lavender would be a welcome reprieve, a bit of healing.

Clara nodded, her disappointment short-lived when she spotted Uncle Charlie. He'd come to see who was coming through the gate, to confirm it was kin. Charlie tossed his spent cigarette away as Clara raced away from Tommy's side to hug him around the middle.

It had been at least a week since she'd been at the yard. She'd claimed some type of sickness was keeping her home, but they all knew it had more to do with the fact that Tommy had been too busy to walk her and she had been too spooked to make the walk on her own.

"Feeling better, sweetheart?"

Charlie tipped Clara's face up to his. She looked like death on two feet despite her smile—somehow flushed and pale at the same time. Exhausted and weary, that was for sure.

Clara nodded and Charlie knocked her cap over her eyes. "We'll get you to work, then. Curly's—"

"Clara's just visiting," Tommy interrupted. "John needs her to sit with the kids today."

Clara glanced between them. She could sense they were looking to say some words that neither were willing to say in front of her.

"Go and see to the horses." Tommy nodded towards the stables as he stepped closer to Clara and Charlie. "I'll be along in a minute."

Clara let Tommy guide her away with a hand on her shoulder and she continued on even after his touch slipped away. Silence held between Charlie and Tommy as Clara walked away. She didn't look back, but she paused just inside the stables, just beyond the open door where neither could see her.

"The girl looks like hell, Thomas," Charlie chided as he watched Tommy put a fresh cigarette to his lips and light it.

"She's fine," Tommy offered. His gaze followed the path Clara had just taken on her way to the stables. "A little trouble sleeping is all."

Charlie scoffed. He knew there was more to it than that. He knew there was more to his niece not coming round than a little bit of fever, too.

"And I suppose you've got it handled, eh, Thomas?" Charlie answered, an edge to his voice. "A solution all bloody planned out just like everything else."

"I have, uncle." Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette before clearing the ash into the space between them. "She's just restless. Keeps her awake at night."

Charlie nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Well, you should know how to help her with that then, eh?"

Clara's heart beat faster at the sharpness in their tones, the anger that lived just below the surface. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she pressed herself against the stable wall. It was the second time this morning there'd been arguing over her.

Clara couldn't see it from where she stood listening, but her brother had a bit of heat rushing to his cheeks, too. Tommy had been a troubled sleeper even before the war—back before those particular nightmares had plagued his mind, back when he'd been small like her and his worries were constructed by the wars fought within the confines of family, within their confine of four walls or the crowded berth of a narrow boat.

Back when the only way to avoid them was to sleep out in the pasture where there were no walls, nothing to worry him.

"She's fine," Tommy answered.

Charlie knew his niece wasn't fine. He questioned if his nephew was any better. The decisions Tommy was making…well, they had Charlie questioning quite a bit. It all had him worried for both of them…concerned about the way their clever minds seemed to hurt them more than they helped sometimes.

"Fine, just like you, eh?"

Tommy didn't answer him. Clara only heard the sound of feet scuffing in the dirt and she knew the conversation was coming to a close. She could feel that Tommy was done being chastised by their uncle even though he had yet to step away.

Clara didn't wait to hear if Tommy gave their uncle an answer. She wasn't lingering by the door to hear her brother issuing a demand that Curly ready the car, his tone effortlessly shifting the meager bit of power Charlie had held out of his hands.

Clara was settled in Lavender's pen when Tommy came to find her, her face pressed to the mare's strong neck while her fingers trailed in Lavender's mane.

Tommy watched her for a moment in silence. Neither girl nor horse had noticed his presence there. She was whispering something. Tommy couldn't hear his sister's words, not distinctly, but the horse seemed to hear her, to understand her. A giggle escaped Clara's lips as Lavender turned her head and nudged Clara.

Girl and horse both turned in Tommy's direction when he knocked on the wooden beam framing the pen. The easy smile still graced his sister's face when she looked at him and it pulled him forward, reminding him of the simple, healing quality of the moment—the medicine that was a kid with their horse.

Tommy moved through the gate, marching his clean, polished shoes over the fresh straw. Lavender shifted further in his direction, displacing Clara to press her nose against Tommy's torso, searching his suit for a treat. The horse nudged him a bit hard, eliciting a renewed bit of laughter from Clara as Tommy grunted.

"Alright there, beautiful girl," Tommy said, smoothing his hand over her coat. He pulled back his jacket, exposing the carrot he'd brought all the way from Watery Lane. Clara hadn't seen him take it from the kitchen and she smiled when Tommy passed it over to the horse, whispering his own words to Lavender. Something Romani. Something Clara couldn't hear well enough to decipher, but was comforted by all the same.

"We'll take the horses out soon," Tommy said, speaking to Clara though he still focused his attention on Clara's horse. "Sleep out before it gets too cold."

He had promised her as much several months ago, back when the business with Ada and her schooling was just getting started and while Clara hadn't forgotten, she hadn't reminded him, either. She didn't quite believe it was a promise Tommy would keep considering all that had changed in their lives. She still didn't believe him now.

"Just you and me and the horses," Tommy continued, finally looking to his sister.

Clara had originally asked to have Isiah and Finn there, too, but bringing the boys along didn't seem right to Tommy just now. He hoped the night out would cure her of her restlessness. The boys wouldn't help with that.

"Would you like that?"

Clara nodded, but there was no excitement in her—no questions or protests to his alteration of their plans. No smiles were spared for him and his strategies, but he continued, hoping for some type of breakthrough, for some sort of evidence that the smile she'd shared with her horse wasn't so temporary.

"We'll set a day after I get home from Cheltenham, eh?" He set a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "Compare diaries and find a time?"

"Okay, Tommy."

Clara shifted away from him and started brushing out Lavender's coat. Tommy stayed quiet as he watched her, moving back to the gate. Seeing Clara with the horse was the happiest he'd seen her in a while and though Tommy hadn't succeeded in getting her to smile outright, the exchange between Tommy and Lavender had at least gotten a smirk out of his sister. It wasn't much, but it was something and part of Tommy hated to separate them.

He needed to though. The morning was getting on. Grace would be waiting on him. John would be waiting on Clara. Glancing up, he could see Charlie waiting for them at the end of the stable and told Clara as much.

She said her farewells to Lavender before slipping past Tommy to make her way down to Charlie. Clara fit herself against Charlie's side once again while Tommy made sure the latch to Lavender's pen was secured. They were already whispering and Clara giggled at something when Tommy finally caught up to them, falling in a pace or two behind them. Tommy couldn't help but be reminded of a time when it was him finding solace in their uncle's yard, finding smiles and laughter more easily with the help of their uncle and Curly.

Charlie glanced back to Tommy and spotted a bit of a sour look on his face. "He's changed the oil and greased her up," he offered, nodding toward the car.

Charlie opened the door for Clara to get in behind the steering wheel, but she didn't move toward the car, sticking close to her uncle's side instead.

"Will it get me all the way to Cheltenham, Curly?" Tommy asked.

Clara cautioned a step forward. She leaned over Curly's shoulder to look at the metal innards of the vehicle. It was all still new to her. The family car was something they'd purchased after the war, and Clara still felt uneasy about it. She preferred moving through town on her own two feet. She preferred horses.

"He's good with motors, but it pains him," Charlie answered while Curly remained immersed in the motor.

"No heart in motor cars." Curly glanced up at Tommy. "I can't talk with them."

Tommy glanced up at his sister. She was engrossed in what Curly was doing with the motor. She looked terrified though, her eyes wide.

"Well, Tommy may need to make a fast getaway." Charlie pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The words pulled Clara from her steadfast observation of Curly's work to the exchange between her brother and her uncle. Clara watched as Tommy's face hardened.

Tommy opened the door, settling himself behind the steering wheel. "Time to go, Clara."

She didn't move straightaway, allowing her eyes to shift back toward the greasy motor once again. She didn't know the time, but by Tommy's countenance, she could tell her brother was eager to move them along. There wasn't time for him to walk her back to the lane. They'd have to take the car, and they'd have to do it now. Clara knew Tommy wouldn't appreciate negotiations on the subject.

Tommy cleared his throat and Charlie opened the passenger side door. Clara took the opportunity and moved toward her uncle before Tommy decided to repeat himself. Charlie leaned over the passenger door as Clara got settled, his eyes trained on Tommy as if Clara and Curly weren't even there.

"The Lees will be all over the track, Tommy. And Kimber's men. And his coppers."

Tommy stared ahead. Clara wished she could melt into the leather of the seats. Curly clearly had had the same idea. He kept his eyes down as he stood up and walked away, leaving the car and the tension without a word. Clara longed to slip out from between Charlie and Tommy and follow after him.

"They control the law down there, Tommy."

"Give her a turn for me, Charlie," he said, swiftly changing the subject. It almost seemed as if Tommy hadn't heard their uncle, but Clara could recognize that her brother was just ignoring him.

Charlie took a frustrated breath before stepping away from Clara's side to heed Tommy's request. He moved to Tommy's door while the motor came to life.

"This car only seats four. You'll need more men than that if you're to come back alive."

Tommy smirked. "It'll be just me and a girl."

"Christ." Charlie shook his head. "Just you and a fucking girl." He leaned around Tommy to get a good look at his niece who'd gone quiet with the rumbling of the engine and all this talk of trouble at the races.

"Horses need some riding, sweetheart," he said. "Come down to mine tomorrow before seven and you can walk over with me. We'll do breakfast and you can spend the morning with me and Curly."

"I'll bring her down," Tommy answered.

Charlie glanced at Tommy. He snorted. "Yeah, we'll see," he said before moving his gaze back to Clara. "Come to me before seven, or your aunt will have you in a pew instead of the pasture, eh?"

Clara nodded, her face solemn because she doubted she'd be anywhere other than home come tomorrow morning at seven. Tommy shifted the car into gear and Clara jolted when the car jostled them on their way. She ordinarily sat as close to her brothers as she could manage, squeezed between a pair of them in the backseat since she was the smallest and because she felt safest that way, but today it was just her and Tommy. Today she sat pressed up against the passenger door with her arms pulled tight around herself simply hoping the short trip through Small Heath wouldn't make her sick.

Closing her eyes, Clara tried to ignore the unexpected jolts and sputtering of the engine. It was like the thing had a mind of its own, but no heart. Like Curly said. And Clara didn't trust that, a creature without a heart.

"Tommy?"

Clara squinted, allowing her eyes open enough to see that they were nearly to the Garrison. Their ride and their time together were both coming to an end as they moved through Small Heath. With that realization, all of the worries pushed aside by the morning's excursion and the car ride started coming back to her—worries about being left behind, worries about what Lizzie Stark might say, worries about what Uncle Charlie had said just now about the races.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "It'll be fine," he said. "Charlie's just spinning yarn."

Don't worry about Arthur.

There's nothing to be done about Ada.

Don't listen to John.

Charlie's just spinning yarn.

Tommy seemed to have a cool, easy dismissal for all of it, but his words weren't a comfort to her. She heard them, but like his promise of their sleeping out with the horses, she didn't trust them. The feeling left her feeling hollow and glad that she'd kept the most real of her worries to herself.

By holding onto her concerns about being left behind, about the inspector's threats, Clara thought she could trick herself into believing that Tommy might be able to soothe those particular worries even if he'd fallen short with the others. In not telling him, Clara held on to a bit of misguided, desperate hope.

And hope was something she needed, especially where her brother was concerned.

"But he said—?"

"Doesn't matter what he said," Tommy answered. "Today's no riskier than any other race day. I wouldn't be having Grace or Finn along if it was."

It wasn't the truth, but Clara didn't know that. She didn't know that despite the heavy blanket of coppers, the racetracks were lawless places. She didn't know that her brother's words were a deception and she didn't need to. The chances of Grace or Finn getting hurt were small. Grace would be with him. And Finn was meant to be kept out of any real action. There would be no guns. No one would be hurt.

"Just like any other race day," Tommy repeated. "Only thing different is today we'll be coming out ahead."

If it all went to plan, they'd be coming home on Billy Kimber's payroll. They'd be on their way to getting their first legal betting license. They'd come home one step closer to legitimate.

"We'll be home for dinner. And then we'll find a time for you and me and the horses. Sleep out as I said."

Clara wanted to believe Tommy. She wanted to trust him. And he seemed to want it, too. Seemed to suddenly be in an appeasing mood.

"And we can ride the horses tomorrow?" she asked.

Tommy nodded.

"Could we sleep out tomorrow?" Clara chanced the question, the words quiet and uncertain, but hopeful. Tomorrow was Sunday. There wasn't any business that needed to be done on Sunday. Nothing to do for the shop. Like Charlie had said, on Sundays, there was pew or pasture, and Clara wasn't sad at the prospect of avoiding the pew.

Tommy glanced at her, but she was absorbed in her hands which were folded in her lap. "Why not?"

"Really?" Clara's eyes flicked to him. "You promise?"

Tommy nodded, smiles tugging at both of their faces.

"Finn'll be jealous."

"He's having his fun today," Tommy offered as he pulled the car to a stop in front of the Garrison. "Unless you want Finn to come, too?"

Clara thought on it, but for no longer than was respectful before shaking her head. She wanted the outing for herself.

"It's settled then," Tommy said with a nod before breaking eye contact. Clara turned about in her seat to follow Tommy's gaze as he looked beyond her, toward the door to the Garrison. Clara's eyes locked on Grace standing there all done up in the red dress Clara had seen hanging in the woman's flat what felt like ages ago now.

She looked pretty and proper—both Grace and Tommy did—and they looked entirely out of place on the dusty streets of Small Heath. Clara glanced down at her own outfit—her old worn dress and dirty boots, Ada's sweater drawn over her arms—and she got to thinking maybe she was the one out of place sitting in Tommy's pristine car.

"Is it the three of us going to the races today?" Grace asked as she stepped up to the car.

Tommy shook his head. "Clara was just making sure everything's in working order, eh Clara?"

Clara didn't answer, silence stretching between them for a few seconds. She was so used to Grace as her tutor. She was used to Tommy and Grace interacting in the context of her schooling, inside the walls of the Garrison, as her tutor and her brother, but something felt different about them now.

"Just the two of us, then?" Grace asked when Clara made no effort to fill the quiet.

"Something like that," Tommy said.

Clara lingered there in the front seat. She had a feeling Tommy was going to shoo her out of the front seat, but she didn't want to sit in the back by herself and she wasn't ready to go, even if she was starting to feel out of place.

Tommy glanced at his sister. "Aren't you going to say hello?"

Clara nodded her head in Grace's direction. "I like your dress."

"Thank you." A quick smile came to Grace's lips and a slight blush rushed to her cheeks. "I like yours as well."

Clara was tempted to think the words were a lie. Her dress was old with time-worn holes and faded fabric, but something in her knew it was a genuine compliment. She'd certainly studied Grace long enough to know when she wasn't telling the truth.

Clara nodded.

"We should be going. John's expecting you." Tommy glanced toward the back seat. Clara could feel his request coming as Tommy leaned across the front seat to open the door for Grace.

As he leaned back, Tommy studied his sister and he rightly sensed her hesitation. He knew she didn't like the car. He knew the back seat made her sick, though at this point, he suspected Clara made herself sick getting worked up about it.

"How about you take the wheel?" he asked.

John's place wasn't far, just down the lane.

Clara shook her head. "Tommy, I—"

"You're worse than Curly," he said. "Both of you terrified of the thing. Come here."

Tommy pulled Clara across the front seat, clearing the passenger side for Grace. He settled Clara on his lap though it was a tight fit for them both behind the steering wheel.

"Tommy, I—" Clara wasn't quite sure what she was going to say, how she was going to stop him, or even if she wanted to stop him, but her nerves had her fighting him regardless.

"I'm right here, alright?" he said. "You'll be the first Shelby woman to learn to drive. Youngest Shelby, too."

"But, Tommy—"

"Finn's never even sat behind a steering wheel," Tommy interrupted, those particular words settling into her brain and prompting her to sift through all of the things Finn had bragged about over the years. Tommy was right, Finn hadn't been allowed to drive the car. He'd been sore about that fact, actually.

Clara took a deep breath and stretched her legs out toward the pedals. "I can't reach the pedals."

Tommy snorted. "I'll manage the pedals. You just keep us straight, eh? The farther ahead you look, the easier it'll be."

"But what if—"

"You'll be fine," Tommy said, settling her hands on the wheel.

Clara's heart was beating so fast she could hear her blood pumping in her ears. She jumped when Grace climbed into the seat beside them. Clara had almost forgotten the woman was there during her negotiations with Tommy.

"Alright, hands steady. Eyes ahead," Tommy said, repositioning Clara's hands.

A second later, the car crept forward. Clara let out a nervous squeak before a bout of spontaneous giggles spilled from her lips. She sat up straighter, leaning closer to the steering wheel, getting a better view of the street. They were moving slow, slow enough that Clara might've gotten to John's faster by walking, but this was better. This was more fun. And Clara's sudden glee was infectious.

It was a distraction really—Grace's laughter in the passenger seat and the shaking Clara could feel against her back. She couldn't hear Tommy's amusement, but she could feel it. Clara turned her head, instinctively trying to catch a glimpse of her brother's amusement. Tommy clasped his hands over hers as the car veered, holding the wheel steady.

"Eyes on the road," he warned though they'd barely deviated in their path and they were only a few doors down from John's.

Clara's gaze snapped forward at Tommy's words. The road was clear. No one was out on the lane except John. And he was settled well out of harm's way, leaning against the brick beside his front door with arms crossed tight over his chest.

There was nothing for Clara to worry about, not while sitting behind the steering wheel of Tommy's car with his hands ready to steady her if she faltered.

The car rolled to a stop a few moments later and Tommy wordlessly shifted Clara out of his lap. He pushed the car door open and turned back to help his sister climb out. Clara took one look at Tommy's outstretched hand and latched her arms around his neck instead.

Tommy sighed, holding her there for a moment, letting her rest her head against his chest and helplessly crushed in her skinny arms.

"Alright there, Clara girl," Tommy whispered when her hold didn't lessen, the moment feeling out of place with Grace and John there watching. "Alright." Tommy eased her back to sit, but Clara didn't release him. "We have to be going," he said. Clara ignored him, focusing not on her brother's words, but on the steady beat of his heart that sounded in the space between them. "John's waiting on you."

Clara let Tommy pull away at that. She took a deep breath and Tommy reached out to straighten her cap.

"Be good today," he said. "Don't let John's devils get too wild, eh?"

Clara nodded. She looked at her brother. She looked at his fancy suit and his well-shined shoes and his fresh haircut. "You'll be good today, too?" she asked and they both knew that Clara's request was more than asking that Tommy behave himself at Cheltenham. Clara wanted Tommy to be good. She wanted him to be smart and safe and careful. And she wanted him to come home. She wanted them all to come home as soon as they could.

Tommy caught a tear that sat threateningly at the corner of Clara's eye and brushed it away with his thumb.

"I will," Tommy said as he brought Clara out of the car, steadying her on her feet before letting her go. "I promise."

Clara wanted to trust that it was a promise he'd be able to keep.

Chapter 32

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #john shelby #charlie strong #curly #shelby sister #shelby!sister #john shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #platonic fanfiction #family fanfiction #little lady blinder #clara shelby

[alimosblog]

Hey, guys!

My friend wants to try to write a fic on Peaky Blinders. Could you write a few requests in the comments?

Mostly with Thomas Shelby!

Thank you in advance💋

#peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #polly gray #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #shelby sister #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #shelby family x reader #shelby!sister #thomas shelby x daughter!reader #john shelby #arthur shelby #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders alfie #Spotify

[dr-george-ordell]

You know that feeling of wanting to write a Peaky Blinder's and SCP Foundation crossover fic? That's what i'm feeling right now

#I have so many ideas #like Tommy could've seen some weird bs that was just an SCP when he was a soldier in WW1 #or he could get involved in the anomalous crime world #especially during the prohibition era where the Three Portlands is likely where most people smuggled alcohol through there to sell #not to mention thaumaturgists and reality benders likely walking around whom work within gangs/criminal orgs #anomalous beings/groups could also be interested with the Shelby family to for either business #scp foundation #scp #scp fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #ao3 fanfic #fic ideas #mari's ramblings

[pinguwrites]

In The Light of the Moon | Thomas Shelby

Pairing -> dark!thomas shelby x innocent!reader

Summary -> Having enough of being mistreated by your family, you decide to runaway to the small town of Birmingham. There, you meet the feared gangster, Thomas Shelby, whose intentions with you are less than pure.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), kinda dark tommy, innocent!reader, mentions of abuse, p in v, anal, oral (both sides), fingering, allusion to stalking, bunny pet name (briefly, as a joke), lingerie, spanking, very light breeding, bleeding, pain, first time for reader

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: Peaky Blinders characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Tommy asked, taking a quick drag of his cigarette, the white smoke curling up in the cold, bitter air.

You hugged your body with your arms and averted your eyes. “Sir, I have to go home. It’s almost night.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, amused. “Home? The streets?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that. You were sleeping on the streets, ever since you ran away from your abusive family in London. You had nothing with you but a bag of sandwiches you were carefully portioning, some cash, and the things you were wearing — a light skirt with intricate pink patterns and boots.

“Are you here just to make fun of me?” you said, a little annoyed.

He stepped forward and brushed his fingers against your cheek. You shuddered at the feeling, involuntary leaning into his warm touch, but then you realized what you were doing and backed away.

“Such a pretty girl,” he complimented. When you pulled away, he stopped his caressing, but he didn’t bother to create space between you two. No, he seemed to like the way things were. “Where’s your family?”

“You don’t need to know,” you huffed. You were trying to sound intimidating, but your tone betrayed your emotions. You were vulnerable, without a clue of what to do.

He laughed. “You have some bite, sweetheart. Tell me, what’s your name? I told you mine.”

You hesitated.

“What’s your name?” he repeated, more forceful. “Or do you just want me to call you girl? Perhaps bunny?” He chuckled. “You’re cute like one. Ought to get you some fluffy ears and tail, maybe a collar . . .”

“I’m not a bunny!”

This man was embarrassing you. Why’d he have to say things like that? The idea of you wearing an outfit like that, probably provocative based on the manner he was suggesting, made you feel small and upset. How could he say such things so freely?

“Then what’s your name?”

You grumbled but told him anyway.

“Good girl.”

You ignored the way his words made your body tingle and warm up in all the wrong places.

“Now, did you run away?”

“Why are you so curious?” you questioned, not wanting to tell him. What if he got in contact with your family and found out about the reward they were offering for your return?

“Because you’re a strange girl who shouldn’t be here, on my fuckin’ property, and I like to know who goes on my property and why.”

“Are you a gangster, Mr. Shelby?”

You were starting to think this man wasn’t just some wealthy mayor, but rather a criminal, the kind you were always warned about. He was far too crass to be of a higher class, but he certainly had power, or he wouldn’t be acting this way.

Tommy took another puff of his cigarette. “Ah, so you know a thing or two. Thought you’d be stupid.”

“I’m not—” you cut yourself off, not wanting to engage in such useless conversation. “We’re done here. Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.”

He grabbed your wrist before you could leave. “You think I’m letting you go out there, alone? With no family to keep you safe, no man to protect you? No. You’re coming home with me. I’ll give food, shelter, nice clothes,” he tugged at your dirty dress, “a place to sleep. How does that sound?”

“I don’t even know you!” you sputtered out. “I can’t go to a stranger’s house and live with them.”

His eyes darkened. “And what is the alternative? Lay on concrete? Starve to death? Wait for some bastard to come along and hurt you the way sick men like to hurt little girls?”

You were at a loss. You had nothing to say, no argument to defend yourself. Staying at Tommy’s place sounded comfortable, but you couldn’t.

“I—I can’t.”

Tommy sighed and pulled you closer to him. “I’m just telling ya’, you wouldn’t be a burden on me. I won’t harm you, and I won’t touch you if you don’t want it.”

“You’re touching me right now!”

"There's a difference," he growled, pushing you up against him, his face inches from yours. "I'm protecting you. Do you think I’d hurt you?”

You whimpered, scared. “N-no. I—I don’t know!” you stuttered. “I barely know you, Mr. Shelby.”

You turned your head so you didn’t have to be so close to him, or look him directly in the eyes.

“You’re staying with me,” he said in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“. . . Yes, sir,” you breathed out, flustered at the close proximity.

===

Tommy led you back to his apartment. He got you some food and water, a cozy room to sleep in, and a hot bath. He was so generous with everything, and though you were cautious of him at first, you couldn’t help but let your fantasies run wild.

Before you could start daydreaming, Tommy entered the washroom, holding something behind his back.

You shrieked. You had just gotten out of the water and were drying yourself off with the towel, but it was too small to cover your entire body. You squeezed your legs together and covered your chest.

“You can’t be in here!”

Tommy laughed and ignored your words. “Why not? It’s my place.” But he looked away. “You were taking a while, that’s why I came in. I was worried.”

“I’m fine, you can leave now.”

“And what will you wear?”

You didn’t think of that. He hadn’t given you any clothes yet.

He showed you what he was holding, but it didn’t even look like proper clothing, rather undergarments and a skimpy top. You stared at it for a moment, before realizing he was expecting you to take it.

“I can’t wear that,” you protested.

He sighed. “‘I can’t do this’, ‘I can’t do that’, when are you going to learn to do as I tell you? I want to see you wear this, so wear it.”

You didn’t complain after that, though you did hesitate. You made him turn around while you changed, trying to fit the skimpy clothing on your body.

The bra was white and comfortable, but it would easily slip down if someone wanted it to. It accentuated the curve of your tits. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever worn, and you felt horrified at the thought of Tommy seeing you in this thing. It made you feel like a . . . like a prostitute.

The panty barely covered your ass. It was all hanging out for show. What is the point of such outfits? It’s useless! you thought.

“You can turn around now, sir. Just, please don’t stare.”

He did stare, he stared at every part of you like a hungry beast, ready to tear his prey apart. You felt wanted under his gaze, but the whole situation was making you feel a little uncomfortable. You weren’t used to behaving like this, you weren’t used to being around men like Tommy. It was all so new and daunting.

“Walk towards me,” he ordered.

You did so, hugging your body with your arms — a bad habit. Your tits were bouncing slightly with every step, but you made sure it wasn't too obvious. You couldn't help but wonder what your family would think if they saw you like this.

How have you gone from being a rich girl to living on the streets to the arms of a handsome gangster?

“Oh, that’s a nice view, sweetheart.” He licked his lips. “Turn around now.”

You did that as well.

“You see that scrubber on the floor?”

You looked, spotting the thing you used to wash yourself. It must have fallen at some point.

“Yeah, do you want me to pick it up?”

“That’s right.”

You knew your bum would be clear to him if you did, but it was your fault it was on the floor, and you felt bad about it. It was your obligation to pick it up, right? You didn't want to be a poor guest.

"Don't look."

You bent over and picked it up. Mr. Shelby let out a heavy sigh and you immediately felt something poking your behind. He was pressing his body up against you! You tried to get up, but he pushed you back down, holding your waist and shoulder so you didn’t fall over.

“What are you doing?!” You couldn't move with the way he was holding you. It was such a compromising situation, what was he trying to pull?

“You’re so easy,” he groaned. “You don’t question why I want you to wear those things? Or maybe you do know . . . dirty girl.”

He picked and placed you over his shoulders, carrying you through the apartment hallways. He led you over to his room, placing you down on his bed despite you smacking your hands against his back.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me!”

“Only if you didn’t want it. But you want this, don’t you?”

“No!” You tried to get off his bed but he pushed you back down with a thud. “. . . Maybe. I don’t know! I’ve never done this before."

You didn't even know what exactly he wanted to do with you. You were vaguely aware of promiscuous activities ungentlemanly men got up to at night, and that it could sometimes result in babies, but you were uneducated on the details.

His gaze softened. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I know you’re a virgin. I’ll be gentle at first, okay?” He gave you a rough kiss, his tongue flicking against your bottom lip.

"Mmph!"

You tried to push him off you but he wouldn't have any of it. He pinned your arms above your head and continued to ravish you, nipping at your neck with his teeth, running his hands all over your body — your arms, your stomach, your thighs, all the way down to your feet.

His lips finally left yours, but before you could say anything, they were back on.

You couldn't deny, it felt good. This was the best you'd ever felt your entire life, even more so than that one time your desires got the best of you and you tried touching yourself, though that was probably because that time resulted in a swift confession and punishment.

Tommy started grinding his hips between your legs, making you moan against his mouth. He pulled away, still rolling his body. "See? You're enjoying it." He let go of your hands, to which you immediately gripped the back of his shirt. “I know you want this,” he continued. “Say you want this.”

You didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed to respond. You weren’t sure what you wanted.

He stopped and you whined.

“Say you want this,” he said, his nose brushing up against yours. “Say you want me to fuck you.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Shelby. I shouldn’t . . .”

“But you should,” he convinced. “I won’t dump you after I’m done. I’ll take care of you. You’ll live here, with me, okay? You’ll be my sweetheart, my pet.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, but you placed your hands against his chest.

“I don’t know how to have—how to,” you struggled to find the words.

“How to what? Fuck?” He laughed. “I’ll teach ya’. What do you know?”

It felt weird saying it out loud, but you did. “A man and a woman need to be married,” — Tommy huffed at that — “and a man is supposed to take his . . . well, I’m not sure, but he’s supposed to take a part of him and put it inside a woman’s privates.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he said, but he didn’t look upset at your lack of knowledge. “I’ll show you, but first I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?”

You nodded your head slowly in anticipation, not ready for how vulgar it was going to be.

“I’m going to split you open on my cock and fuck you till you go dumb,” he said, grabbing his crotch. “This thing here, it’s called a cock, and I’ve got the best one you’ll ever see.” He pulled it out, a hard length, too long and thick to possibly fit in you. It was throbbing, with some type of liquid leaking out the top. “Look at it. This is what I’m going to ram inside your holes — all three of them.”

Your breathing hitched and you gasped. “All of them? I don’t understand—”

He interrupted you by forcing two of his fingers down your throat, making you gag and sputter, tears welling up in your eyes. “My cock will go inside your mouth first. It’ll make me feel good. I’ll teach you how to suck properly, how to lick, how to swallow.”

He removed his now wet fingers, letting you relax for a brief moment, but then he flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your panties down, giving a nice, hard slap to your ass.

You yelped.

He spread your cheeks apart and pushed his finger in your hole, just a little bit, to give you the idea. You squirmed. It didn’t hurt that much, but you were sure if he went further in it would.

“Then here, sweetheart. We’ll spend a lot of time here. It’s always been my favorite.”

You thought about how his cock was supposed to fit in there. His fingers already felt too big. 

“It won’t fit—”

“—It will. I’ll shove it in until it does.” 

His hand snaked under your stomach and down between your legs. “And here.” He brushed his fingers against your folds and over your entrance. “Your pussy. I’ll fuck it, and you’ll take it, like the good girl I know you are.”

You felt your heart beat against your chest like it was going to jump out. In excitement or fear, you did not know.

“Will it hurt?”

“Yes, and it may even bleed, but only for a while. I promise I’ll make it feel good. Now, flip over and spread your legs.”

You rested on your back and widened your legs, wondering what he was going to do when he placed a pillow under your hips, moved your panty to the side, and kissed your pussy with fervor.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, the sensation feeling warm and weird.

“I need to get you ready, and I want to show you what an orgasm feels like.”

“An orgasm?”

“You’ll see.”

He flicked his tongue over your bud, sucking on it, holding your hips in place. It felt like heaven, enough to make you forget your guilt and focus on the way he was eating you out. 

“Oh,” you moaned softly, looking down at Tommy. He was looking up at you, observing your reactions, trying to see if this made you feel good or that. He was doing it with such precision, too. It felt sloppy and messy, the sounds of his kisses a loud pucker, but it couldn’t have been unthoughtful, because it felt so good.

He kept doing it. Your body was tingling as he started to get more passionate, finally pushing his tongue inside your pussy.

“Huh,” you let out.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside now,” he told you. “Just relax.” He slid his hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “Relax.”

You loosened your tense muscles and rested your head on the pillow. You shut your eyes, trying to let your thoughts go blank, but the sudden intrusion of his finger was too painful for you to ignore.

“It hurts,” you whispered.

“I’ll go slower.”

He pushed in a little further. He wasn’t going slower, or at least, it didn’t feel like he was.

“How much more needs to go in?”

“About three more quarters of what’s already there,” he guessed. “But I’ll need to put two more fingers in after that, and then my cock.”

You looked down at his cock. It was still open, hanging firm out of his trousers. Huge and thick and fat. You were sure he was lying when he said it would fit. You imagined him trying to push it in, but failing, because how could that possibly make its way inside you?

“I wish it didn’t hurt, sweetheart. I wish I could take away your pain.”

Now his finger was halfway through. It was like someone had placed an object where it was not meant to be. How could this be natural if it was so painful?

“Just a little bit more.” He continued running his other hand up and down your thigh. “You’re taking it so well.”

He pushed the rest of it in, letting it stay for a bit.

“Shh,” he soothed. He brushed your hair out of your face, curling his finger inside. “You’re alright, you’ll be alright.”

He pulled his finger out. There was a bit of blood on it, mixing with your clear juices. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking away. It was disgusting.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s normal. I won’t have you feeling ashamed of yourself.”

He added another and did the same thing. Eventually, he was pushing in and out at a slow, steady pace. It was horribly painful, but it was starting to feel a little good, especially with the way he started licking your pussy again.

“One more. Just one more.”

You cried out. “Too much!”

He didn’t respond.

Your walls were being stretched, and you felt like you were a stretchy piece of fabric about to get ripped apart. But the pleasure of his tongue managed to counter it a little.

You felt a strange sensation in your belly, coupled with pain.

“I—I,” you tried to say.

“I know. Come for me, sweetheart. Come on my fingers.”

You came — whatever that meant. You felt like you were at some peak, a little dizzy in the head, with some substance leaking out of your body.

You panicked, worried it was something else, but to your shock, it was white, and Tommy was lapping it up.

“W-what’s that?”

“Your cum. It’s what happens when you orgasm.”

You nodded your head in understanding, even though you didn’t fully understand. It was like heaven, pure bliss, and as long as it was happening, you were fine with being ignorant. You just wanted to feel that way again, and you wanted to make Tommy feel that way, too. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Tommy took his cock in his hands and gave it a few pumps. You sat up. He pushed the tip to your lips and you gave it a lick. It was an alright taste. 

You looked up at Tommy nervously, running your fingers down his length.

“Just leave some kisses along it,” he instructed. “I’m not expecting your first time to be perfect.”

You did as he said. He didn’t make any noises, but you were observant and could tell his breathing was getting a little uneven. When you put his tip in your mouth, his hand went to the back of your head, guiding and gentle.

You pulled away. “Do I just . . . take it all?”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s okay if you gag, just push it all the way in. Breathe through your nose.”

Calming your nerves, you slipped about a fourth of his cock into your mouth, wetting it, swirling your tongue around the way you did sweets like ice cream. 

“Use your hands for what can’t fit.”

You started pumping the rest of his length, the way you saw him do.

Tommy finally made a noise, a little groan. It made you feel more confident that what you were doing was right, so you started sucking more passionately, with more enthusiasm, taking in more of his length — enough to make a difference, but not enough to make you gag.

Tommy let out a little choke and started pushing your head down on him. “Think you can take all of it?”

You couldn’t say anything with your mouth filled, but it was a yes. You wanted to push yourself.

“Good.”

He gave a quick, experimental thrust into your mouth, one that made you gag. Tears welled up in your eyes, but it was gone after a few seconds. It was just so unexpected. It didn’t hurt much, it just felt odd and uncomfortable.

He kept thrusting, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside your mouth. Every time you thought it couldn’t go any further, he proved you wrong. Now you really were crying. You thought that maybe he would stop, but all he did was make a shushing sound and wipe away your tears.

You tried to make the experience as pleasurable as possible for him, and it seemed to be satisfying enough because he didn’t ask you to do anything different. He just had that blank stare, grunting, the only sounds in the room ones of him and the slurping noise you were making.

After a few more minutes, he told you he was coming, and forced you to swallow his sticky, white liquid. 

He pulled out and you coughed. 

You went to him for some comfort, but he was already leaving the room.

You were confused, your throat sore, but then he came back with a glass of water and a wet towel. He cleaned off your face and helped you drink. It made you feel much better.

“I’m tired, Mr. Shelby,” you said.

“Such a princess,” he responded. “Have to do some work once and decide you don’t like it? Just want your own pleasure?”

His words made you look down. Now that you knew how it felt to orgasm that was all you wanted to do, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy your mouth on Tommy’s cock. You were sure that you would get used to it after a few more times, and soon it would stop feeling so uncomfortable. 

“No.”

“It’s okay. All you have to do now is take it.”

You remembered his words. He was going to take your ass next. 

“Can’t we wait a bit—?”

“No,” he growled, pushing you on your hands and knees. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long.”

Waited too long?

“And besides,” he continued. “Don’t you want this?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “But I just want a little break—”

He slapped your ass hard and you cried out. “What do I have to do to make you listen to me, huh? Is it a good spanking? ‘cause I can do that.”

“No,” you whimpered. “I’ll be good, m’sorry.”

He spanked you again, pulling your underwear all the way down and tossing it to the side of the room. “I think I do want to spank you. Pretty, rich girls like you don’t get much discipline, eh?”

You did, but you didn’t know how to say it.

He pulled your top down a little, to reveal some small scars. You knew he could see them, but you couldn’t see his reaction.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he asked.

“Yes, yes!”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means doing as you tell me, sir.”

Satisfied with your response, he rubbed your sore ass, trying to make it feel better.

He grabbed a bottle from the nightstand and applied it on his hands. “This is lube, sweetheart. It’ll reduce the friction.”

He slid his lubed-up finger in your ass and you hissed.

It was the same process he did with your pussy. He pushed in and out, stretching out your hole. It hurt, and you were sure it was bleeding a little, but after a while, it began to feel pleasurable.

Tommy’s fingers started rubbing your clit, distracting you from the pain. He pressed the tip of his fat cock in your ass, shoving it inside it.

“Mr. Shelby, slow down!” you squeaked out.

He didn’t listen. He pushed his cock further in, and it made you feel like your insides were going to snap if he stretched them too much.

“Mmm,” you winced, “is that all?”

“Fuck. That’s only half.”

Tommy held your shoulder with his other hand on your waist. “So tight,” he murmured, pushing further in. “You’re going to make a good pet, I can tell.”

The term was degrading, but you didn’t say anything, not like you had the guts to when he was inside you, not after he warned you that you would get a spanking if you didn’t behave like a good girl.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby.”

He pushed himself all the way in. You felt so full of his cock, and you had half a mind to ask him to stop. He was beginning to move, slowly at first, making sure that you were okay with it.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Tommy asked. The hand on your waist moved to your top, his fingers sliding underneath it.

“Y-yeah.”

“Good.”

He picked up the pace, his balls slapping against your body. Suddenly, the force of his thrusting was pushing you forward, the only thing stopping you from falling over was his grip. You cried out, the pain and pleasure too much for you to handle. 

Your breasts started to bounce, but their movement was being held by the top he gave you, which Tommy slowly pulled up. Tommy pinched your nipples, flicking them, twisting them, pulling on them, whatever he wanted. You whined, half-heartedly trying to shove him away, but while he did stop, he was still cupping your breasts in his hands, continuing to ram your ass. 

‘This is what I want from you,” he grunted, thrusting his cock deeper and deeper inside. “Most days, I’ll want to fuck you like this. I’ll — ah — I’ll expect you to be ready on your hands and knees when I tell you to.”

Occasionally, you could feel the scrape of his pants against your skin, reminding you that his clothes were still on. You moaned when he started rubbing your clit more vigorously.

“Spread your legs further apart,” he ordered.

You did, which only made him gain access to a deeper part inside of you. 

He continued his brutal assault for a couple more minutes until he changed his position. He forced you to lay down on your stomach while he draped his body over your back, thrusting stiff and rough. Now, he could start kissing your shoulders, the back of your neck, any part of your body he couldn’t reach before.

He finally came into your hole, his whiteness spurting out. You could feel it drip out and down your thighs. You tried to wipe it away but he wouldn’t let you.

He flipped you over on your back. He took off your top completely, admiring your naked body. Despite the fact that this man had just taken your virginity, his hungry stare made you cover yourself up. You supposed it was because you weren’t used to it.

“Oi!”

You immediately sprawled your body, fearing a reprimand. 

“There ya’ go.”

He grabbed another wet towel and wiped off your body. He told you it was important, to keep clean and safe.

As you expected, he didn’t give you much of a break. In this hour, you figured that he could only fuck you — or prefer to — when his cock was hard, and within a few moments, it was already starting to rise up.

Once he got his cock inside your pussy, all the way in, despite your squirms, he started fucking — rough, hard, and fast.

“So good,” he praised. “So good for me.”

You whined in response. He was gripping your waist like his life depended on it, making sure you couldn’t squirm or move away. 

“You’re learning so well. Keep still.”

His movements were making the bed and your body shake. You whined, pathetic mewls leaving your mouth. You really weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. Your limbs were starting to feel sore and your mind foggy, like if you didn’t take a break you would pass out from the sheer intensity of the moment alone.

But you didn’t want to. You fought to open your eyes. You didn’t want Tommy to know you couldn’t take it anymore, that would be embarrassing. 

He finally came inside of you, locking your hips together as he murmured something about your breasts getting bigger and swollen, which you didn’t understand, but didn’t ask for clarification regardless.

He pulled out and collapsed beside you, droplets of sweat trickling down his forehead. He was exhausted, and so were you.

After taking a few minutes to yourselves, Tommy said, “I’m never going to let you go, you hear me? Never.”

You didn’t say anything. Somewhere in all that fucking you had accepted your fate. You belonged to Thomas Shelby now, and that was just the way things had to be.

“I ran away,” you finally confessed. “My family . . . they weren’t nice to me. Promise me,” you said seriously, looking into Tommy’s beautiful eyes. “Promise me you won’t send me back. If . . . if you don’t want me anymore, you can just send me on my way, not back to them. Promise?”

Tommy laughed, as if what you had just said was absurd.

“I won’t let you go back to your family. Those oil bastards.”

You paused. How did he know they were in the oil business?

“How did you—?”

“Shhh.” Tommy placed a finger over your lips, silencing your words. “You’re tired. It’s time to sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.” He caressed your face, running his fingers through your hair. You couldn’t fight the command, you were truly feeling sleepy, and all you wanted to do was shut your eyes and rest.

But that nagging thought in your head. How did he know?

He didn’t give you any more time to think. He pulled you close to him, close enough so that your head was resting on his shoulder and your legs were draped over his body.

“Sweet dreams. Tomorrow we’ll have a few more rounds. You’ll need your rest.”

And with that, your eyes fluttered shut and you were taken away into the abyss of darkness, into your dreams. 

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@alice-drysdale

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #pinguwrites

[deceitfuldevout]

Blessed Be The Fruit

Soft!Dark!Sergeant!Tommy Shelby x Maiden!Reader

Word Count: +1,620

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Hints of misogyny, Loss of virginity, Mild gore (blood), Cunnilingus, Mentions of past kidnapping.

Author's Notes: This is a one shot. It's a fanfiction that has a few ideas from the handmaiden’s tale that are altered cause it's my fic lol.

As the population decreases, the government has no choice but to intervene. Every citizen is now required to marry past a certain age. Those who were part of the military or government, were given a registry of approved wives to choose from. Often the families of the women were forced to participate. Yours was one of them. It was a week after you turned twenty when an officer knocked on your parents' door. He will inform you of the news. A husband has finally chosen you.

You read the profile of your soon-to-be husband, Sergeant Tommy Shelby. He'd served in the British army for a few years, returning home as a decorated solider. His first wife had been murdered, the second divorced. Your eyes rake down the list. A widower who'd been married twice. He'd lost his youngest daughter to an illness, his first son in a local gang's crossfire. Charlie is his last remaining heir. He can't risk losing him, what Tommy needs now is a spare. 

You remember your earlier days of scouting. Should any family find themselves under bankruptcy, their daughters will be forced into the draft. A law passed by the government to decrease the poverty line. You along with the other women were kidnapped and forced to attend months of dreadful etiquette classes.  

Training you on how to walk, talk, behave, and care for the home. In simpler terms, you had to learn how to sell yourself as someone interesting enough to marry. You were a brand, put on display for any eligible bachelors. Only at the graduation ceremony did you feel relieved. Finally allowed to return home.  

Every family that had been in the registry was part of the working class. They'd been forcibly placed in the registry because of debt or bankruptcy. It was the government's solution to decrease the amount of poverty. Their daughters would be used as sacrificial lambs. Otherwise, they'd be rounded up and forced into imprisonment, or worse. How could you say no with such a severe punishment?   

He has given you a week. A week to come with him willingly or face the consequences. It rained on the day of the wedding, the ceremony itself was cut short by how dangerous the weather became. Your now husband wastes no time dragging you away and into a car. He wastes time returning home. Tommy led the way to the bedroom. There were certain things to expect on your wedding night. A contract that now legally binds you to him.  

There is a list of conditions that the each of you were to follow. One being him taking care of you and your family, as long as you promise to give him an heir. However, many it would be. There was one last thing to seal the contract, marriage consummation. Mandatory by law, punishable by imprisonment. You remember the advice given by the elderly women who worked for the registry program. As soon as you spot the bed, covered in white sheets, your breathing hitches.   

Tommy faces away from you, stripping himself of his coat. You remove each strap and let the dress slip off. You approach the bed, now splayed in only a white lace set, relaxing on your side. You tilt your head. Now gazing at your new husband with a playful smirk. If only he knew what was going on inside that little head of yours. How badly you wanted to break free.   

A happy husband means an easy life.   

That's what the elders had taught you. He turns around, taken aback by your sudden eagerness. His cold eyes rake your figure. He starts to approach the bed. Your seductive expression starts to crack. You find yourself now trapped under his cold, hard gaze. Still, there was too much at stake.  

Appeasing your husband is what keeps the house in order.   

This wasn't just a marriage consummation, it's a test to see if your husband wants to keep you. Everyone you love and care for will pay for one mistake, and that terrifies you.  

A good wife must tend to all his needs.   

That's when he gave the orders, "Present," to which you immediately began removing the rest of your garments. A procedure all the wives had practiced for. You feel a calloused hand holding your hip in place. Both hands digging into the soft blankets below. It takes everything in you not to burst into tears. Because good wives hide their pain well. He spits into the palm of his hand, spreading the slick on his length. He starts to pump himself, tugging on his cock a few times. But only enough to get it hard.  

Tommy doesn't want to waste any more time. He presses his tip against your entrance, dragging it up and down your slit. He spits at your entrance before pushing in. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. You held back a scream, digging your nails into the bed. He places an arm to each side, shifting his bodyweight against yours. A grunt of discomfort broke from your lips. It felt like he was breaking you in.  

There's only one thing that Tommy needs from you. Tonight, he's going to make sure it happens. If not, then he'll breed you every day until you take. He doesn't want to stop from there, no. You'll give him another one, then another after that. As many as he can make from that tight cunt of yours. Just the thought of it has him moaning, "Fuck...so good for me...my wife..." he juts his hips, finding a rhythm, "You will obey me," he fastens his pace, with both hands now grabbing your hips in a firm grip, "Your only job is to give me an heir," Tommy starts to lose himself in the pleasure.

It had been a while since he's had a good fuck. His brows furrow from how hard you were squeezing him, "Fuck...such a tight cunt..." he groans, he hovers over your naked form. His body heat spreading to your back. A thick wall of muscle traps you against the bed. He growls in your ear, "It's going to be like this every day...every day until this womb gives me an heir," a promise he's going to make sure comes true.  

Tommy's grunts became louder as he was close. Sweat trickles from his body to yours, the intensity of it reduced you to a whining mess. He splays his body flush against yours. A stray of curse words escapes his lips, "Fuck...fuck so good...so good for me..." he dips his head in the crook of your neck, muffling one last moan before bottoming out. He doesn't remove himself, no. Tommy kept you plugged with his spunk. He pushes his length in as far as it could go before pulling out.  

He flips over right next to you to catch his breath. When he hears sniffling, he turns his head. What made his little wife upset? He turns you over. Your eyes are red, there are tear tracks that trailed down each cheek. Spit had dribbled down your chin and onto the bed. Tommy had a gift for reading people. It was obvious you were trying to keep a plain expression. He hovers over you now with a stern look on his face. Tommy is determined to find the source of your worries.  

That's when he felt it, the small wet patch on the bedding. Blots of crimson were in stark contrast to the white sheets below. You cower under his gaze. Frozen by fear yet still, you try to please him. But Tommy could see it clearly, and he wouldn't have it. He reaches below your knees, pulling you closer towards him. He lifts your lower half, until your bare slit is close enough to his mouth.  

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation has you gasping. Tommy flattens his tongue against your core, dragging it up and down your slit. He takes his time, suckling and kissing at your sex. Practically smothering himself in it as he thrusts his tongue inside your spent cunt. You press a palm flat against your mouth, muffling any whimpers that would escape. Now this wasn't something you were prepared for.  

Tommy wraps his lips around that bundle of nerves you whine. Your hole twitches with need, he'll fix that. Tommy slowly stretches the now slick opening, collecting any slickness he would need. He latches his mouth around your bud while thrusting his fingers in and out. Faster and faster, until a wave of pleasure has you arching your back. A gush of arousal splashes his chin, but he doesn't stop. Not even after you're pumping at his fingers in a vice grip. He keeps thrusting them at a rapid pace, until you've come undone again. He retreats from your drenched sex with a triumphant 'huff'.  

You were exhausted, trying your best to catch breath. All you could do was stare at Tommy though hooded eyelids. He's sporting a cocky smirk, "I'm sorry dear wife," he interwinds his fingers with yours, holding them in place, "Do you forgive me?" licking up the slick on his lips. A flush of pink is spread across his face and ears. His icy blues are now overpowered by the large iris'. You could only give a faint nod, too tired to react as he pulls you in.  

There the two of you lay, sprawled naked across the bed sheets. Your head against his chest as he brushes his hands though the locks. Tommy lets you rest for now. He sighs, "understanding now that you weren't a willing participant. All for the sake of 'societal standards'. He won't give you a harder life than it already had been. "Blessed be the fruit," he announces, marking the end of the night.  

#dark!tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby x reader #dark!tommy shelby x you #reader #reader insert #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #dark smut

[call-sign-shark]

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

Summary:  What is supposed to be a chill afternoon at the grand opening of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children, turns out to be a nightmare: Charles is kidnapped and chaos spreads in the Shelby family. This is when Thomas remembers something you had told him: "You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.”  He suddenly understands: You did it.

Words: 5K

TW: Angst, Child kidnapping, typical canon violence, graphic description of violence, death of secondary characters, murder, a very quick allusion to child abuse, gruesome kills, a lot of blood I guess

Notes:

✞ This chapter is based on the event of S3 Episode 6. Italicized parts are taken from the show. However, it contains many changes from the show's script, especially to accommodate this fanfiction's purposes and the characters' development.

✞ Theme song to listen to on repeat while reading if you want

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

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“Say it Tom, say it to ‘em! ” Arthur’s loud voice exclaimed in a joyful tone, calloused hands clapping with strength to encourage his little brother and his speech. The whole crowd, as well as you, followed his example and stood up to applaud the founder of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children. Admittedly, you recognized that the idea of opening such an establishment was surprising yet excellent, especially coming from the family’s boss. Quickly glancing at Arthur and his smile, you could not help but melt. The blinded love and trust he had for Tommy had something admirable despite your rocky relationship with little King Shelby.

You sit back and, as you did, Arthur gently put his hand on your thigh and took a look at you, his magnificent blue eyes shining with affection. He did not need to say a single word for you to understand what was going through his mind: he was just proud. Proud of Tommy, obviously, but particularly proud to attend such a significant ceremony with his stunning woman by his side. Even though most of the town knew about Arthur’s mysterious angel, attending the event with you had something official. The butterflies in his stomach flapped their wings when he introduced you to some guests as his sweetheart — you had even overheard him calling you his “future wife”. The way some of the visitors looked at both of you, their traits stretching in surprise as they realized that the sweetest creature they have ever seen was deeply enraptured with him, was enough to fill his heart with pride. A faint smile flattered your juicy lips at such an endearing vision, the joy it brought upon you making the whole crowd disappear for a few seconds as you lost yourself in Arthur’s beauty. Another thunder of applause popped your daydreams and forced you to shift your focus back on what was going on.

In fact, the first lyrics of Immortal Invisible brought you back to reality as it echoed in the room. You were about to join the chorus, Arthur’s fingers discreetly reaching for yours as a silent request to hear you sing with that lovely voice of yours, when you caught sight of Tommy leaving the room with hastened footsteps. The aura of sorrow that emanated from him stirred both your empathy and your worries — even though you did not get along, you could not help but commiserate with him on this difficult day that reminded him of Grace far too much to handle the event properly. Thomas’ beloved wife was everywhere around you, you could sense it. Her presence was so overwhelming that one could have expected to see her walk into the room at one moment or another. The cruel truth was that she was gone for good, and what was left of her slowly pushed Thomas Shelby to the edge of depression. Instinctively, your cold little hand tightened its grip around Arthur. His company kept your mind from drifting too far in the dark waters of your own loss. And by loss, you meant your Dad, hung high on a tree, as well as your Mom and little sister who had burned on the pyre.

The room was filled with chatters and guests, whose discussions blended together in an unintelligible cacophony. Alone in a corner, a glass of champagne in your hand, you swept the room with interest without really taking part in any conversations. Somehow, huge gatherings had never been your cup of tea — you came from a small town lost in the mountains after all, not from the city. Moreover, you were well aware of the curious, sometimes snobbish looks other ladies gave you and you were not sure they would be particularly delighted by your presence. They thought you did not fit the picture with your long and braided white hair, your ivory sun dress, and Arthur’s long and black coat resting on your shoulders. To be true, you could not blame them, you did not fit in but you were also surprisingly fine with it. When your lips grazed the sparkly alcohol, you winced a little bit. As ironic as it sounded for a French girl, you despised the taste of champagne, even though you still took the glass you had been offered out of sheer politeness. Giving up on the idea of drinking it, you just sighed. It did not take long for you to grow bored with analyzing people’s faces — they were more or less the same, and most of them took the shape of women giggling when Thomas walked past them. You soon caught sight of Arthur and John, both talking to their brother.

“Fuck me, Tom. I don’t know how you do it.” Arthur stated, his gruff voice and harsh words contrasting drastically with Thomas’ elegant elocution. He had barely finished his sentence when the latter was once again forced into another formal conversation with aristocratic ladies. He took a quick look at John, who was sipping on a tea, and rolled his eyes, annoyed. Understanding that having a real conversation with Tommy was going to be difficult, he waved off the idea and finally headed back to you. As soon as his eyes fell on your frame, his face relaxed and enlightened with a loving smile.

“Oi. Why are you all alone, Angel?” He inquired, his arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close to his body for he could not keep his hands off you for too long, “want to go back home?” Arthur laid a tender kiss on your cheek, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your skin in signs of deep affection. Your smile widened at the sensation of his mustache, to the point you could not hold the light chuckle that escaped from your mouth. He was so worried about your well-being that he went straight to the point: if you wanted to leave you had every right to do so.

“No need to go back home dear, I do enjoy the party. I’m just not really good at social gatherings nor making new friends I guess!”

“Ada told me you can join in her conversations if ye want.” His thumbs caressed your hips in a circular motion.

“I don’t want to bother Ada. She seems rather busy.” You put down your glass on a nearby table, and snuggled in his arms, more than thrilled to have his whole attention for yourself. The slight anxiety you had been feeling vanished into dust at his soothing warmth and his manly perfume. A perfume that had started to blend with yours, hence creating that unique fragrance of your love.

“Hey Arthur, move. You know she likes me hugs the best.” John teased — he had also decided to keep you company rather than waiting on Tommy.

“I’m really going to kick yer ass John, don’t care if I do it in front of all the people of this bloody room.” He growled, pulling you even closer for he refused to let you go. Even if it was with his own brother. Your grin widened, their never-ending sibling arguments never failing to amuse you.

“I would take your brother’s threats with the utmost seriousness if I were you. But at the same time, I really appreciate your dauntless nature. C’m’here.” One of your arms left Arthur’s neck to welcome John in the hug despite the hoarse complaints that followed. John, not hesitating for a slight second, joined in and held you in his arms for a few but indescribably comforting seconds. Each time he would pull you in a bear hug, he would make you feel at home.

“Okay, enough —“ Arthur nudged his little brother in the ribs, the corner of his lips curling up in a sadistic smirk only older siblings knew how to do.

“Why don’t you hug me longer? Afraid to show your sensitive side, Mon amour?” John said, making his best impression of your French accent and the pet name you were always giving to his brother. This time you could not help but genuinely laugh, a part of you astounded by John’s ability to be that annoying. The face Arthur made, contorted with both shock and anger, only cracked you up harder. Still, you softly stroke his neck to keep his spirit quiet and avoid him throwing a tantrum in the middle of the room.

Finally resigning himself not to bounce on John and beat the shit out of him, Arthur looked at you with the most irresistible puppy eyes he could do. Sometimes you had trouble realizing he, who could look like a beaten dog, was the same man that could kill someone with his bare fists out of jealousy and fuck you roughly in the shower still covered with fresh blood right after.

“Lemme smack him, please Angel. Just one little tiny punch in his fookin’ face.” He begged, “Just to shut his bloody mouth, eh.”

You raised a brow, your hand trailing up his neck to fix his hairstyle — Arthur shivered at your touch, his whole body responding with tremors of lust that shook him to the core, “Not here. But you’ll find a good moment to avenge yourself, Mr. Shelby” You said, punctuating your sentence with a knowing wink.

“Woah, calm down Devil. I thought you’d defend me!” John retorted, pretending to be outraged by your betrayal.

“Not my fault if you’re stupid enough to believe that.” Your grin turned into a sharky smile.

“That’s my girl,” Arthur purred when looking at you, “always on her good ol’ Arthur’s side,” He pressed his lips on the side of your head, laying an enamored kiss upon it. How much you liked his way of showering you with love no matter where you were. Nevertheless, the lighthearted conversation did not last long, for an unpleasant gut feeling alerted all your senses. You slightly pulled away from Arthur and frowned, instinctively looking in Thomas’ direction. He was talking with Ada, his face veiled with a deep worry you had never seen him wearing. Something happened, that was the first thought that crossed your mind — and how right you were. At this moment, Thomas walked to you, his piercing blue eyes expressing concern. You saw him coming before his own brothers.

“Heaven, love? Are ya alri—“

“Boys, have you seen Charlie?” Thomas cut him off.

“Eh…” Arthur softly released you from his sweet embrace to focus on Tommy, “I don’t know. He is playing, ain’t he?” His smile faded away as if he had just sensed that something was wrong.

The wind changed for Thomas Shelby, whose legendary self-control broke down at the moment he realized Charles had disappeared. As your mind proceeded with what was happening, he had already started to go from guest to guest asking if they had seen his son. The more he asked, the more his placid tone turned into the painful roars of a wounded lion. All it took was one tiny second for the whole ceremony to dive into chaos.

Deafened by the sound of your own beating heart racing in your chest, you started to look around you in a vain attempt to find Charles maybe playing under a table or behind furniture. That was all you could do, for your feet seemed stuck in invisible roots that were keeping you from moving. You stood there, useless, for you did not know what to do. Maybe Charles was still here, hidden somewhere to prank his nanny? But all Tommy’s hopes and yours crumbled when Ada, so stunning in her elegant outfit, caught everyone’s attention with precious information.

“Tommy. Someone said they saw a nurse take him through the back door.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Fuck.” Arthur swore out loud, grabbing his sister by the wrists before storming out of the room with the other Shelbys.

Boom. Boom.

You brought your hand to your chest, now convinced your heart was about to burst. Something had definitely happened to Charles — as you had sensed weeks ago at the Garrison. Ripping through the lethargy you were embroiled in, you ran up the stairs and rummaged through each room to look for Charlie. Voices, all mixed, came through the opened window. You froze, listening to them.

“Arthur! Somebody saw a woman and a kid getting into a car.”

“Ah, fuck!”

“CHARLIE!”

“Where is he? Tell me.

_Someone took him. Listen to me! They put in in a car. They put him in a car and drove south. We’ve got roadblocks, we’ve got spotters. I’ll set up shop and put every man we’ve got… between here and Maypole.

_ Right. You do that.

_ You gotta go to the office. You gotta sit by the phone. Whoever took him is going to call. Polly! Let’s go, Pol! Stay by that phone. Me and John will cover the roads.”

And that was how the world collapsed on Thomas’ head. Again.

You looked at his car disappearing in the dull horizon, knowing that dark hours were awaiting all of you. Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the mighty silhouette of the crow that was staring at you from the nearest tree with his dark beady eyes. A dull caw sound tore the silence that had fallen upon the mansion and snatched you from your anxious mind.

Caw. He mocked.

And to think it had warned you!

When Tommy stormed into the office, all of the family already gathering there, the sound of his soles hammering the wooden floor made the whole skies shiver with fear.

“Where’s Heaven?” He asked, blue eyes looking dagger at Arthur because if someone knew about you it was obviously him.

“Coming. She was with Esme.” His gruff voice retorted, trying to remain calm for Tommy’s sake.

“Esme’s waters broke,” John answered right away, “I was just with her. Running around fucking broke the waters.”

“Where’s Finn?” Thomas insisted.

“With the young’uns looking for the Riley. We couldn’t reach him.” Arthur informed before bringing a glass of whisky to his mouth and taking one big gulp. The fire that trailed down his throat almost made him sigh with momentary relief.

“I need to know who spoke. Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside of the family. I need to know who spoke, who they’ve spoken to.” Tommy was trying hard to remain calm but his erratic breath and the quick pace of his words betrayed the rage that was boiling within him.

“Tommy…

_ Your future wife, Arthur?”

Arthur’s pinched his lips, swallowing the furious urge to yell at his little brother for uttering such an obnoxious accusation. He looked away as he tried to keep his composure.

“I’m gonna tell myself you’re not thinking straight. Your mind’s not clear.”

“I want to see her now, you hear me?”

It was at this moment you entered the room as if you had been summoned by Thomas’ words. You had appeared in the doorframe without a single noise, Arthur’s dark coat contrasting with the unsettling porcelain of your skin and the fair aquamarine of your iris. There you stood, all the family’s eyes staring at you for they had told you it would have been probably better if you did not come. All of them were more or less aware of Tommy's hostility toward you, and they knew he would certainly find a way to blame you in one way or another.

“Speaking of the Devil.” He said with his most collected tone, while his gaze darkened at the sight of your doll face. If Arthur saw an Angel when looking at you, Thomas could only recognize the threatening shadow of death floating around your silhouette, the long coat you were wearing reminding him of the Grim Reaper’s cloak. All that was missing from the picture was a scythe in your hand, “Did you speak?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply replied, walking to Arthur. The wooden floor creaked under your heels. You were already exhausted by his accusations you knew that were awaiting you. But still, you came, because all you wanted was to be where you belonged: by Arthur's side, supporting him.

“I know Arthur can’t keep his fucking mouth shut and tells you everything.” He quickly glanced at his brother, who was staring at an invisible dot on the wall to keep calm, and shifted all his focus back to you again. You clenched your jaw at the petty comment, “So I’m gonna reiterate the question and you’re going to answer me, eh. Did you speak?"

“I did not speak, Tommy. I said nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.” He retorted right after you finished your sentence. His hands, pressed against the table, were now trembling with a rage he desperately tried to tame, “I know you’ve got something to do with all this shit. I know that’s you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Arthur was quicker. Grabbing your wrist in case he needed to protect you from his brother, he stepped between the two of you, “Come on Tommy, I know yer angry and anxious, but that ain’t a reason to accuse her. She didn’t do anything.”

“Ah. Arthur Shelby protecting his damn fallen Angel, I was expecting it" His eyes went from him to you several times, "Do you think she didn’t? So, can you explain why did she tell me to keep an eye on Charles weeks ago?” Tommy's words were coated with poison. The quietness of his voice, highlighted by the rumble of his growling soul, only rendered him more impressive. Silence fell over the office at such a revelation no one knew.

Astounded, Arthur turned to you and, with his brows furrowed in confusion, stared at you, “Did ya — Did ya really say that?”

You blinked, stunned by Thomas’ vivid memory and by the gleam of shock in Arthur’s steel blue eyes.

“Hey, listen. I did not plot behind this family’s back nor did I hurt Charlie or anything.”

“Why would you say that to me then?” Tommy took a few steps toward you. He would usually avoid coming to close to you when other people were around, but you were not sure he would do so this time. You wanted to back off but Arthur’s grip tightened around your wrist, for he did not know what to think anymore. “Whose side are you on, uh?” Tommy asked, "Did anyone ever wonder whose side she's on?"

“I saw a crow on my way to the Garrison and I felt it was a bad omen. And then I had a gut feeling after our conversation. That’s all, Thomas! It was just a damn clairvoyant gut feeling!” You defended yourself, before looking at Arthur, “I swear it’s the truth.”

"Yeah, the truth," Arthur repeated, trying to overcome his insecurities.

“Oh my God, keep your witchcraft-coated excuses for someone else, Heaven. You talked at best, you work with Hughes at worst. After all, you knew him before you came into our lives” Tommy tried to come closer again but Polly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him at a safe distance, “No matter the makeup and the jewels you wear they won’t hide the Devil under there.”

“Don’t imply I have something to do with that fucking bastard!” You hissed through your teeth, hatred blooming within at the sole mention of the name. This time, Arthur’s calloused hands grabbed you by your shoulders to keep you still, for you were starting to get agitated. At this point, he was not sure if he did it to protect you from Tommy, or to protect Tommy from you.

“Heaven, calm down…” He said softly, trying to ease the wildfire of your anger.

“He’s accusing me of Charles’ kidnapping, Arthur! I can’t fucking believe it!” You protested, your doll face wearing injustice like the most beautiful jewel ever crafted. Arthur kept you firmly against his chest, his arms locking around you and his hoarse voice whispering “I know love…” in your ear.

“And I can’t believe you think I'm naive enough to believe you talked to a bloody crow and got a bad feeling. Tell me where’s my son, you Devil.” Thomas growled in the background.

Polly pulled his nephew’s arm, for he was starting to be too harsh with you “Why not? She has brought a bird back to life Tommy. I would not be surprised if she saw it coming one way or another.”

“'Scuse me?” He turned around in one vivid movement, his eyes diving into his Aunt’s. He could not believe what she had just said.

Another silence flew over the room as the rest of the Shelby family confirmed Pol’s information with a nod of the head. All the people in this office had witnessed the extent of your power at the last gathering you had organized in your garden — hence the fact they were not particularly surprised by your sharp instincts. John swallowed, recalling the way the bird first twitched in your small hands before flying away, wings flapping with newly breathed energy.

“Pol’s right, Tom,” Ada started, “I usually don’t believe in these kind of things but it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

It was too much for Tommy, who already was on the very edge of his patience. There went his mind, aching at the thought of his sweet son trapped between the monstrous and disgusting claws of that twisted priest. His boy, the last thing that kept Grace’s memory alive, had been snatched from him and here his family was, defending the one that probably did it. Of course, he believed in supernatural forces — he was convinced a curse took Grace away from him — but Tommy needed a more rational explanation. He needed anything that could help to get Charles back. He brought one of his trembling hands to his mouth, gathering all his remaining strength to restrain himself in such a catastrophic situation, “She resurrected a damn bird, and no one told me…” He said to himself, " She resurrected a bird," He repeated, a faint and nervous chuckle escaping from his lips before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Heaven‘s really sensed it, nothing else. You know she would never harm Charles. She felt it coming Tommy. She is… She is gifted. Do you understand how useful she could be?” Polly’s words, coated with both softness and authority, managed to soothe the hurricane of violence that was raging within him. Thomas had stopped talking yet he kept looking at you with anger burning in his ice-cold eyes.

You frowned —still trapped in Arthur’s arms for your own sake—, and looked at Polly.

“Forget it, Pol. He’s not going to change his mind.” You finally said after letting out a long sigh. A part of you was well aware that bargaining with Thomas Shelby was useless. Moving your shoulders, you managed to free yourself from Arthur’s embrace and, to his greatest surprise, made your way to the exit. He almost jumped, catching your hand in his.

“Heaven.”

“No Arthur, this is fucking useless. I am not going to stay here and let him blame me for everything that happens to this family while I did nothing but share my clairvoyant feeling with him. He wants me to prove whose side I’m on? Fine! I’ll do it then! ”

Arthur opened his mouth, thinking about something that could convince you to stay but he knew you were right. He finally lowered his head, jaw clenched and eyes avoiding yours.

“Gonna come with you then,” His gruff voice mumbled.

“No, you stay there.” You said, which made Arthur frown even more and look at you with utter confusion, “Thomas needs you. He’s aching and vulnerable. Stay with him and do what you have to do, Arthur. I'll wait for you.”

“Alright.” He resigned himself, worries making his magnificent eyes shine, “ one last thing.” He said after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Hm?”

“Tell me you have nothing to do with Charles’ kidnapping.” He dared to say, feeling utterly ashamed by the fact he needed reassurance about it. But he had always trusted Tommy more than anyone else and now, he was conflicted between his loyalty to his brother and the maddening love he had for you.

“Arthur… Are you serious?” You asked, your heart hurting at such a demand. A sigh fell from your lips, whose red lipstick made even more hypnotizing. “ I promise I'm not involved in Charles' kidnapping. You have my word.” You finally said as you looked at him right in the eyes, trying to hide the pain.

“I— I trust you,” He paused, “I trust you.” He repeated, then he pulled you in a quick hug to soothe his inner turmoil. To be true, he would have probably died if it turned out you had been toying with his heart all along. But Arthur refused to believe Tommy was right, this awful thought almost leading him to the path of madness again, “Take care, love. See you later.”

You replied with a faint, exhausted smile and left the building, disappearing in the fog of Birmingham’s streets.

The fact remained that Tommy did not feel better after you left.

Or Esme getting cash for cocaine, eh, John?

All of a sudden, back in the family, Ada, eh. That’s a surprise. Out of the blue. On whose orders?

And you and your painter…

Down he went, spiraling into a paranoid craze and, to everyone's greatest surprise, you were not the only one that had triggered it.

The sound of Death Knell resonated in the night, its threatening shadow floating over Birmingham houses and souls. Following Tommy’s plan, John and Arthur roamed through the train station with the firm will of spreading calculated chaos at 10 o’clock in a grandiose murderous explosion. You can go with them but it’s better if you let them do the job, that was more or less what Arthur had told him before he left. Despite the orders given, Michael managed to leave the two henchmen behind and reached Hughes’ church without getting caught by another Peaky Blinder. It was not that Tommy’s plan was poor, but he indubitably needed to take care of this business alone. No one around him seemed to understand how deep his pain was entangled with Father Hughes. He had to wipe the priest out by himself — he had promised it to his little self after many sleepless nights recalling his dirty hands wandering on him.

And he did.

Michael was panting, a mix of thick repugnant blood and sweat dripping from his face. Still straddling Father Hugues’ corpse, the young Blinders’ hands were frozen on the knife he had thrust into the priest’s throat. The hot and sticky sensation almost made him throw up when it first poured over his skin. A crimson puddle had already formed under the body, growing bigger and bigger as minutes passed. And when that same puddle reached the floor’s grooves, it filled them with dark red blood and drew patterns on the wood.

Another grunt escaped from Michael’s quivering lips as he slowly realized what he had done. He killed. Again.

All wobbly on his legs, Michael Gray still managed to stand up and took a few steps back, his hand leaning on a bench. His fair eyes did not shift from Father Hughes’ motionless body for he forced himself to look at him— there lied the monster who had terrified him for years. There lied the child eater, his neck opened and his obscene glassy eyes staring blankly at the church’s ceiling.

Coming back to his senses the best he could, Michael stumbled to the heavy door of the room from which Father Hughes came out and opened it. All he wanted was to carry Charles in his arms, telling him everything would be fine, and flee from this cursed place. Yet, his heart missed a beat when he entered the small room and realized Charles was not there.

“Fuck!” Michael blurted out. Panic kicked in again as he tried to come up with a solution, or at least an idea of what to do. He knew he had to think, and he had to think pretty fast because Charles' life was threatened. He needed to find the kid before it was too late. The main reason behind his dedication was not only to show his worth, but also to keep a child from suffering at an Hughes’ hands ever again. However, Michael's thinking process shattered in pieces when he heard the heartbreaking cries of a kid yelling at the top of his lungs. Blood froze in his veins as he recognized Charles’ voice.

Following the screams, there was a thundering noise of something heavy dropped to the floor, and nothing. Nothing except a chilling silence that brought goosebumps to his pale flesh.

Oh no.

Michael stood still in the loud silence, as petrified as an animal in front of the blinding headlights of a car.

No, no, no!

They’ve killed him, he thought. Of course, they did. Father Hughes was probably not alone in that bloody church, even though Tommy said he did not expect them to come. Someone was here and took advantage of the chaos of his fight with Hughes to grab Charles and hurt him. Whoever his accomplice was, they had just ended Charles's life and it was all his fault. If only he had listened to Arthur. If only he had let the two henchmen do their job and handle the situation. Guilt started to beat him.

Michael shook his head, hoping it was not too late, and ran toward the direction the noise and cries came from. His heart raced in his chest as his legs almost automatically moved, winding up his anxiety like a mechanical toy, and led him to a second room he did not see at first.

“HANDS UP YOU BASTARD!” Michael yelled, storming into the room that was directly linked to a backdoor exit: the perfect spot for Hughes’ accomplice to flee with the kid in case of emergency. Or to kill him in case something happened to the priest. Pointing his gun in front of him, Michael was ready to shoot, hatred blazing in his eyes. He winced at the foul and slightly metallic smell of blood that jumped at his face as he entered the place. Michael was a brave boy. He was ready to use violence. He was ready to actively take part in the family business. Hell, he was even ready to die if that was what he had to do, but there was one thing no one prepared him to face and it was what he saw in this place.

“Oh my God!”

He cried out, his breath hitching with panic as his blue eyes, filled with tears, first caught sight of a second corpse lying in a lake of blood. If Hughes' dead body was already gruesome, it was nothing compared to his accomplice's.

The man, who was strong in stature and impressive in height, was staring at him with blank eyes, silently begging for help. His petrified face, splattered with dark blood, was distorted in a terrified expression as if he had seen the Devil itself before dying. Yet the cause of the poor lad’s death was not fright, but rather the dozen stabbing wounds that scattered his body, and the pair of huge scissors that was deeply stuck into his neck. Michael could not help but step back, so disoriented by the macabre spectacle that was in front of his bewildered eyes that he dropped the gun Tommy had given him. The sound it made when it crashed on the floor caused Charles to cry again.

“Shhhh, everything’s fine Charlie. Everything’s fine. Keep your eyes closed.” A soft and enchanting voice raised in the room, like it did the night Arthur wandered aimlessly to church. For a few seconds, Michael was convinced the voice did not come from a human being. It sounded so foreign, so alluring, it could only belong to an angel of justice, whose avenging blade fell on Hughes' associate. Then he saw her, the creature, and his eyes widened even more.

“Bloody fucking hell.“ He really tried to say something else but his brain could not proceed with the sight of Arthur’s woman holding Charles in her arms, her sweet angel face and frail body entirely covered with crimson stains.

“I know.” You simply replied, one of your hands tenderly resting behind Charles’ head to keep him from looking at the butchered dead man that had fallen on the floor when your scissors tore his jugular vein.

Michael stood still, staring at you with utter shock.

"How?" He managed to ask, one sole tear running down his cheek.

"Please Michael, don't ask questions. I just — I just want to go home." You whispered, the far too familiar smell of blood and after-taste of murder making your head spin. You closed your eyes for one second to keep the traumatizing images of your past from flooding your brain and let out a shaky exhale. When you came back to your senses, you walked to Michael and put Charles in his arms, still careful to keep the corpse out of his sight. Then you left the room.

As you passed by Father Hughes, you stopped and looked at him from above, indescribable hatred blazing in your iris.

"See you in Hell, sale fils de pute — You son of a bitch — "

Michael followed, still unable to keep his eyes away from your mesmerizing frame scattered with blood drop like millions of precious rubies. The way you looked at Hughes' corpse resonated with him so much he could not help but talk.

" Did he..." He left his sentence hanging, but you understood what he meant.

"No, he did not. But he still found another way to be the cause of my sorrow," You glanced at Michael from above your shoulder, "I'm glad you killed this bastard. There are people whose souls can't be saved, and he is one of them."

"Yes, he definitely is." Charles had calmed down in his arms, lulled by the soft movements as Michael walked outside the church by your side, "what about the second man?"

"He was about to kill Charlie and then come for you." You replied, trying your best to forget the unpleasant sensation of half coagulated blood on your delicate skin. Michael took a while to process the information and realized you had probably saved his and Charles' life.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His question brought a faint yet terribly melancholic smile to your lips for it reminded you that you had broken the only promise you did to yourself. The promise of not taking another life ever again.

"Are you?" You replied to his interrogation by another one.

"No, I'm not. I feel... Empty."

"So, you already know the answer."

When the door opened and Michael entered the house with Charles sobbing in his arms, Polly and Ada ran towards him and cried in relief as they hugged the child. Polly soon focused on his own son, whose blank expression left no doubt on what he had to do to save Tommy’s kid… He killed, and it changed him forever. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, checking on him with tears in her eyes, knowing she could not do anything to ease Michael's pain anymore -- and what was more awful for a mother than watching his child suffer without being able to do something about it? What snatched her from the sorrowful conclusion she had come to was Ada’s gasp, who had just realized Michael was not alone. You had followed him, a cold expression etched on your face and a myriad of red ink stains soiling your whiteness.

“She helped,” Michael stated with a tired voice before anyone had the time to say something, “She helped me save him.”

Ada looked at you with surprise, trying to discover the mysteries your traits hid so well, but her focus was far too disrupted by the frightening amount of blood that was covering you. Blood everywhere on the stunning, little, murderous creature she never thought you were. Many questions raged in her skull, like a tornado of thoughts and speculations. After what seemed to be a whole eternity, she managed to speak,

“For God’ sake… It could have been dangerous!” She said, blinded to the simple possibility you had just killed someone without batting an eye, "You are wounded! Look at the blood!"

You sighed and remained silent, stealing the silver cigarette case that was on the nearby furniture. The tip of your tongue moistened your juicy lips, whose corner was stained with red lipstick you smeared all over your skin when you had tried to wipe the blood that had splattered on your face.

"It's not mine."

Your hands were still shaking from what you had to do, unpleasantly recalling their past crimes. Then, you slipped one cigarette between your teeth and lit it with the zippo you found in the pocket of Arthur’s coat that was still on your shoulders. Shivering with cold despite the fire burning in the hearth, you nestled a bit more in his coat in a desperate attempt to find a substitute for your man's comforting warmth.

"I beg your pardon? Whose blood is it?" She almost choked with surprise. Then it struck her. "Heaven..."

You did not say a single word and kept smoking in almost religious silence.

"Who the hell are you?" Ada inquired, her shaky voice coated with an odd mix of fear and fascination stirred by the eerie aura that was all around you.

You took a long puff from your cigarette before staring deep at Ada’s beautiful eyes. You looked at her for a while, then shift your focus on the fire burning in the fireplace. You watched the flames dance, the sound of wood cracking sending shivers down your spine. Ada swallowed, waiting for your answer. She, who had defended you in front of Tommy a bit earlier, could not tell anymore if you were the hero they needed or the villain they had to fear.

Saint or sinner? Spell or prayer? Blessing or curse?

Who are you, she asked.

“I am the one they really should have burned.”

A cloud of smoke came from your mouth as if hellfire was burning within you.

And somehow, it was certainly the case.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

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

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd

#Arthur shelby #Peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders x reader #Arthur shelby x oc #Tommy shelby fanfic #Tommy shelby #Arthur shelby x ofc #peaky blinders #Tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #Peaky blinder fanfic #Heaven Shelby #John Shelby #Michael Gray #John Shelby x reader #Polly Gray #Arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x oc #Paul Anderson #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #Alfie Solomon’s

[blocksruinedme]

(hi there! sorry if this is disrespectful or anything, feel free to delete this ask! i was just concerned because in the comments of jimmy's recent videos, it seems that he might make a video reacting to fanfictions...

very concerning! especially because it seems like he didn't contact the creators of the edits in newest video beforehand. no offense to him, but i genuinely do not trust him to handle fanfiction in a respectful way. he's very hard-working, but he's getting dangerously content-brained!

anyways, the reason i'm sending this ask to you is because you seem to frequent his streams a lot. VERY sorry if this is disrespectful to ask, but if you do attend his next stream, is it ok to ask that you try and send a message in his chat? i would myself, but he streams after midnight where i live T^T i really hope that someone well-versed in the rules of fandom spaces (maybe scott (ｰ ｰ;) ) can talk him out of it, but i would be very grateful if any chatters could discourage him during his next live.

thank you very much for reading!!)

-a shy chinese anon who experienced the banning of ao3 in china because fans of a celebrity mass-reported an rpf fic to the government :<

(Hey shy anon, I didn't show up until a little after the ban, but I was on the english side of that fandom so i know a lot. my eternal condolences, I'll never stop being upset about what happened!)

It is not at all disrespectful to ask politely, which you have! I am not going to send a message in his chat because it is an absolute hellhole, but people I know have left thoughtful comments on his youtube, which I think is 20x more useful. He sees those in his own time and can think about it. Chat is running nonstop, super fast, you get instant reaction in the chat from all kinds of sorts - seriously i love jimmy and i have nothing against younger people, but holy hell that chat is mostly intolerable to read. Most streams I don't even have it visible. Jimmy has very little time to think in response to chat messages, it can't be nuanced, and the first thing he says is now public record.

Overall, I don't think Jimmy will react to fanfic. If he does (and I've been wrong predicting Jimmy before!), it's going to be something like Wholesome Seablings Adventures. I can not imagine Jimmy reading ship fic - unless I guess it's incredibly pg canon-ship? There's all kinds of "pg youtubers", and Jimmy's more on the Katherine side of thing, appealing to families and genuinely little kids. If you look at the saucy things he lets in, you generally need some real non-pg context for it to feel non-pg. (there's always exceptions)

When people demand he address shipping he tries to say as little as possible. He's been shown nsfw fanart while he was streaming. He knows what is going on and he's not going to touch that. He's thoughtful when it counts, and since these aren't stream reacts, he has time to think hard about what he's actually going to use. So if he did do fanfic, there would be plenty of never seen footage of Jimmy of going "holy moly!" and moving on. When it matters, he is generally thoughtful and respectful.

Like the time he realized he was confused about asexuality (he didn't know about aromanticism) and slowed down to be really careful he didn't say anything accidentally hurtful. (for context shelby is ace but dates and he knows that. look at his poor little face trying to understand.)

Maybe he'll mess up this time, I sure hope not, but I'm not personally freaking out.

Also, exactly one time he opened tumblr on stream, it was the sexyman poll, and he read my reply to the post (i'm the one who called him a wet paper bag of a man, my claim to fame.) I showed up to apologize, he was a sweetheart, and he said this about tumblr, that he knows we want our own private space. He's respectful at heart.

I am not on tiktok, but until your ask, I'll admit it never occurred to me he might contact the creators before reacting. Thinking on it, I guess I think of TikTok like youtube, where it is loudly tossed out at the whole world for attention, but I'm not on TikTok.

And why do I think ao3 is different? Well, I have no coherent answer besides "vibes" and "more contained audience" and "everyone knows everyone is on youtube and tiktok".

Here are some more Jimmy clips I've wanted to share on tumblr for one reason or another.

In the end, I have been hyperfixating on this man for sixteen months and I believe it'll be okay. If I'm wrong, well. We'll make it through this, gang. We'll take care of each other and keep going. Nothing's stopped us yet!

If you want to say something to Jimmy, leave a yt comment, don't go into his stream, please, not there, you'll just provoke people and he might have to respond to that, please

Everyone out there who read ao3 not logged in - go log in, people are locking things.

People on ao3, lock or don't lock, as you see fit!

(also joel lizzie and oli did fanfic readings/reenactments/whatever years ago, including writing their own snippets, i got through like 90 seconds of one, youtube at your own risk.)

#me #answering asks #god do i want to tag this a bunch #i want people to worry less but i don't want antis #i'll tag the shippers #there we go #welcome to vee's thought process when they stay up too late writing jimmy fic #trafficshipblr #empireshipping #trafficshipping #traffic shipping #shipping #empires shipping

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

You Have a Deal

Author's note; Hey all, this is my first run at publishing my writing, hope someone likes it and let me know what you think! I have done some mild PB plot alterations to fit my story better.

Summary; When the Shelby family is under attack from the Changrettas the youngest sibling, Lillian, makes a deal with a distant business partner to ensure the safety of her loved ones.

Content warnings; mild spoilers.

The air of the afternoon was cold this day. Impenetrable grey covered the sky above Birmingham and pressed an awful feeling into Lillian. Her gaze down at the cobblestone, she made her way through the lively Calver Lane until she reached her destination, Solomon’s Mill. She looked up at the building and thought once again of her reasons for coming. No one had known she was here, and she liked it that way. With her family under siege and fair reasoning long gone from the Shelby family, she decided that it was her who needed to devise a plan. A way out. A way through. She moved through the final steps until she reached the door of the old brick building. Built sometime in the 1820’s she could tell Solomon’s Mill was a long standing business on the outskirts of the city. A staple of Birmingham that lasted through the most disheartening economic conditions. Owned and founded by the Solomon’s family after they immigrated to England. Nothing shook this old place; not guns, not violence, not the bloody communists. Always there and always of interest to the Peaky Blinders. They were cordial, if not cooperative at times. Now, Lillian relied on that mutual respect to hold steady when she pushed open the large barn-style doors. 

The air sweeping from the factory carried the sent of the fresh grain being processed through the large, rusted machinery. The shadows of the quick moving men bustling around danced at her feet as she walked through the threshold and made her way to a small room attached to right wood slat wall. Rapping three times on the fragile wooden frame a younger man looked up from his desk and cocked an eyebrow to Lillian. 

“Ye’,” he said quickly, barely parting his lips to speak. 

Slowly, calmly, with the utmost care to appear collected in her appearance, she spoke, “ I’m here to see Mister Solomons.” 

Eyeing her up and down, the nameless man gradually stood from his seat and addressed her more directly than before. He stood not much taller than the young Shelby. Short curls held close to his head and a tattered apron hung off his thin frame. 

“And what’s yer’ order of business?” he questioned. 

“I believe that to be a private matter.” 

He walked around his desk and Lillian did her best not to release the stern eye contact she held on him since her arrival. A lesson from Tommy she knew well, for when you look into the eyes of another man it is much harder to lie; and much harder to kill. 

“Open the purse.” He spoke flatly, unblinking. 

She dropped the small purse defiantly onto the wood-back chair in front of her. She flipped open the small titanium latch and took a small step back to allow the gaunt man his inspection uninterrupted. He drew a pencil from behind his ear and flicked through her things, like they were dirty. Like they were not worthy to be touched by the human hand. Without a word, he looked once again into the dark eyes of the woman before him and peaked over he shoulder into the doorway leading back to the vast factory floor. 

“Come with me,” he ordered in the same flat tone. 

Picking up her bag, Lillian followed him as he walked quickly out into the large room and maneuvered through the men and machines working in impeccable rhythm. She willed herself to keep pace with the small man, heels echoing through the loud space and causing men to turn their heads both in amusement and strict curiosity. Once her escort reached the back most offices of the mill he cracked open the door and spoke softly in a language Lillian did not recognize. After a few exchanges the man stepped to the motioned for Ms. Shelby to enter the small, dark closet. 

There, Mr. Solomons sat at an old oak desk, leaned far back in his seat with the amusement of a child lingering on his bearded face. 

“Ahhh Lillian,” he spoke loudly, “to what do I owe this enormous pleasure.”

“Mr. Solomons.” A brief pause as Lillian sat herself slowly on the chair paced strangely close to the overbearing desk. “There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you and I preferred them to be in person.” 

“Ah sweetheart, and what might that be. Did the new sweets parlor open up just past Harding, is that it?” He bellowed with laughter and Lillians eyes remained engrained in his skull. She always thought back to the words of her older brother in moments of this gravity. 

“Don’t look away from them - the men who wish to kill you - it only gives them time to make that decision.” 

Once the fitful bits of laughs subsided and the ringing from the old slat walls hushed away, Lillian spoke in the same calm tone she had mastered years earlier. 

“I believe I have something you want.” 

Another astonished chucked escaped the burly man. 

“And what would that be?” 

A cold breeze moved through the room. It never occurred to Lillian why men of such power chose to have a room so small to reside in. When her family had the means, they awarded themselves luxury. But Alfie, he hid away in this small closet. Maybe it made himself feel bigger in some way. 

“Brooklyn.” 

“The fuck you mean ‘Brooklyn’,” 

“Brooklyn. New York. Chicago. Shit maybe Boston by the time we are done.” 

The boss moved up farther in his seat. He readjusted his head to the side, believing that he may have heard the young girl wrong. 

“Love, what the fuck are you on about? Did you brother send you.” 

Almost too quickly she responded, “I came on my own accord.” She didn’t like always falling under the wing of her family; Tommy in particular. While the Shelby name came with certain privileges bestowed upon her at birth, she valued her identity. So long she had relied on Thomas to protect the family. Now, with the looming threat of the Italian’s hanging over like a dark cloud, she was on her final idea to pull her family through to safety. 

“Shelby company limited has taken a special interest in the American liquor market. We feel that it would be in your interest, as well as ours, if we cooperated on this matter. Together, we both have much to gain,” she continued, finally regaining her full composer. 

“Ye’ and why would I want business in America? What’s the fuckin’ catch?” Solomons pressed. 

“The Changretta family has made advances against my family. We are now using this opportunity to move into the American market while they are occupied here. This is a quite unique chance to collaborate with our American acquaintance without the influence of the Italians. With your power, as well as ours, I think that we could quite a fitting sum.” For the first time, Lillian broke her gaze away, reaching into her purse to exhume a cigarette before flashing her eyes back to Alfie. He leaned back in his chair, the creak of the old wood breaking the frigid silence. He gaze slowly moved back and forth over the ceiling while his hands rested behind his head. 

“Power,” he began. “Your power and my power,” almost as if he was explaining the concept to a child. “Where is your brother at, Lillian?” 

“He is attending to other business in Bristol.” Lillian, as a principle, didn’t like lying. But, as a Shelby, it came as naturally as breathing. 

“Where is Arthur?”

“Overseeing the tracks.” A puff of smoke escaped from her lips following her statement. 

“Then who in the fuck sent you?” His anger showed. Frustration. Questioning. He was half expecting one of Tommy’s men to appear from behind the doorframe and put a bullet between his eyes, finally revealing this to be an elaborate set up orchestrated by the young woman before him and her devilish relatives. But the bullet never flew and Lillian sat motionless in his chair waiting to respond. 

“I come as a representative of the Shelby Company Limited with a legitimate proposal for enterprise cooperation.” 

“And why should I trust the lot of you? Bunch of gypsy crooks.”

She sat once again, silent, patient, and held his gaze for just a moment to long. Leaning forward, she put the stiff out in a small crystal bowl on the corner of Mr. Solomon’s desk. She retrieved her handbag from her feet and pulled out a small, white envelope. After tossing it lightly on the desk in front of the bearded man she returned to her natural position in the chair, arms crossed, the Shelby, deadpan expression returning to her features. Alfie pulled his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose from the chair laced around his neck. He collected the envelope and carefully took out the ivory card within. A black handprint stained the cover. Mr. Solomons didn’t need to examine the paper any further and flicked up his eyes to meet Lillian’s once again. 

“Every one of us got one.” 

“I see.”

“If the Shelby family dies, your possibilities of every entering the American market get buried with us. Or burned rather…” she trailed on, looking off to the side, examining the bookshelf behind him. “You know, Gypsy things.” 

Alfie released a deeply held sigh and placed the card down back onto the desk with more care than the original owner did. Somewhere, deep down, he held grace for the young woman before him. He recognized that she was a result of her surroundings. Born into the small, violent hole that is Small Heath as a Shelby and since her birth has survived through the forces of her family and her gritty resilience. He new she wanted out. She loved her family, that was her weakness, but she longed to see the hills of the Netherlands and the cathedrals of Austria and the new bustling cities of America. To do this though, she must survive.

“I would need a more formal manner of proposal, numbers and such,” he explained still keeping that condescending tone. But Lillian already began to sit up straighter in anticipation carful not to let this emotion overtake her. “But tentatively, I believe we can work something out.”

A small smirk graced across her lips as she extended her hand. “Very well, Mr. Solomons, I’ll have my associates reach out to your tomorrow.” With that, she was on her feet, quickly remembering to pick up the dreadful letter she had pulled out moments ago. Carful in her movements she walked slowly out of office and shut the door behind her, leaving Alfie sitting in silence, wondering what he had just agreed to. He held much respect for Thomas and therefor placed some onto his younger counterpart. 

Lillian exited the factory and began down the darkening street until she was able to hail an oncoming cab. 

“Watery Lane, please,” she said quietly to the driver who nodded at her instructions. She was eager to meet with Aunt Polly and tell her of her plan of action knowing the elder Shelby would be much more receptive to this idea. Her only fear was Thomas, but that would have to wait. She just hoped that she had done the right thing. 

#cillian murphy fanfiction #tommy Shelby fanfition #Shelby family #peaky blinder fanfiction #Alfie solomons fanfiction #Shelby sister fanfiction #tommy shelby x sister!reader #writing #Shelby family fanfiction #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #Alfie solomons imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #futurefamousdeadmusician #fanfiction #Alfie Solomons x fem!reader #Alfie solomons x shelby sister!reader

[victoria-daydreams]

The Dressmaker

AN: So, I did it, I wrote a Luca Changretta fanfiction. This was supposed to be 1k words at max, but of course I went overboard. If this story seems all over the place, I’m sorry but I promise it made much better sense in my head.

Trigger warnings: racial slur, my attempt to write sexual tension, knowing nothing about sewing

Word Count: 3.3k

The crackle of static and then the slow melody of a bow drawing across the strings of a violin floated into the ears of the young woman seated behind a polished mahogany counter. Selina let her pencil glide across the paper, a few faint lines here, a dark outline over there. All was quiet in Miss Clarke’s Dress Shop, the store located right on the corner of the street. Everyone on the street knew who she was, for she was constantly mending or designing pieces for customers that frequented her shop. Not to mention, that Selina’s dress shop was infamous for its wide variety; fabric of every conceivable color and style exploded from the racks.

However, there was another clientele that Selina extended her services to in a much different capacity. The Peaky Blinders, also known as The Shelby’s, often used the space in her basement as storage for their shipments. They appreciated her discretion and Selina was more than to happy to help, because that’s what family is for, right? Selina wasn’t a Shelby by blood, but she was a Shelby through and through and no one dared to dispute that.

Orphaned at young age due to her parents dying from disease, Selina had no where to go, but in swooped Polly who happily adopted her. According to the older woman, Selina’s mother and her were good friends; faintly she could remember Polly’s face as a young child before her parent’s death. Still, Polly raised her like she was her own and was fiercely protective of her.

Out of nowhere, a saucer and teacup was placed down onto the counter with gentle clink. Selina lifted her head and looked over to see Naveen’s friendly, brown eyes staring back at hers.

“Still cracking away at it Lina?” he asked, holding a teacup of his own.

“Unfortunately,” she sighed, letting the pencil fall from her fingers. She grabbed the handle of the porcelain cup and raised it to her lips. A contented hum left her. “Bless you Naveen, you made it just how I like it,” Selina said, a smile on her face.

“You started teatime without me?” Julia questioned, looking up from the hem of a dress she was inspecting. “Some friends you lot are,” she commented, letting out a scoff.

“The teapot is still hot, plenty of time to pour yourself a cuppa and join us,” Naveen joked, moving further down the counter.

“It’s not the same though,” Julia complained, shoving her hands into the pockets of the same white coat they were all wearing. “There’s something about the way you make my tea that makes it fantastic,” she said, leaning against the counter.

“Better luck next time,” he wished, with a smirk as he put his cup down.

Naveen picked up a pair of shears lying on the countertop and held them up to the light. The blades glinted dully. Reaching underneath the counter, he grabbed an emery stone and positioned the edge of the blade against it before running the shears across it repeatedly.

“What do you say, Lina?” Julia asked, causing her to whip her head from watching Naveen to her. “Be a friend, and make me a cup of tea,” she suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Selina answered dryly, picking up her pencil again. “The lord has blessed with you two hands and two feet,” she continued. “Use them,” Selina suggested, flashing her friend a smile before focusing on her sketch again.

“The next time you two need a favor, don’t bother coming to ask me,” she warned playfully, as she walked to the back room.

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots Julia,” Naveen retorted.

Selina laughed quietly as her pencil scratched against the paper as she fidgeted with the details. Just then, the bell to the door rang signaling a customer had just entered the shop.

“Welcome to Miss Clarke’s Dress Shop, how may I help you,” Selina greeted cheerily, without having to think about it as her eyes remained glued on the paper.

She received no response, just eerie silence. Selina felt herself stiffen, now noticing that Naveen’s scrapping had also came to an abrupt halt as well. Her head snapped up and towards the direction of the door, Selina’s blood ran cold but she kept a stoic expression. Standing at six feet tall, a hawkish and smartly dressed man with half a smirk was flanked by more men similarly dressed as him.

“Fuck me,” she thought.

Whoever this man was, he definitely had a presence, a certain air about him that commanded your attention and respect. The type of man that when he talked, people listened. It reminded her of Tommy. The worst part of all though, was that the stranger was undeniably handsome.

"Yes, can I help you?" Selina repeated calmly.

“Where’s the funeral?” the man asked, walking further in the shop.

“Quite the accent. He’s certainly not from here,” she thought to herself. “Italian, but he sounds American as well,”

The stranger’s voice was smooth, reminding her of honey. Instinctively, Selina went on alert. This man, whoever he was, radiated a persuasive aura and a potentially manipulative one as well. His tone said it all. She just knew underneath this man's gentlemanly exterior hid a hibernating beast.

“Why all the solemn faces?” he questioned, looking around the room, before his eyes connected with hers.

Those coal black, mournful eyes burned into her dark brown ones intensely, and she returned the stare in equal measure. It was not the time to show even the slightest amount of fear.

“Solemnity isn’t the right word,” Selina answered, as Julia slowly emerged from the back room with boxes in hand. “Maybe it’s confusion my colleagues and I share,” she corrected, putting the pencil eraser to her chin.

“And what’s so confusing about us?”

“It could be the fact that there are…….” Selina trailed off, starting to count the men standing behind him with her pencil. "One, two, three, four, five, six,” she counted, before finally pointing her pencil at the man with inky black hair who was clearly the leader. “Seven,” she finished, staring pointedly at him.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Naveen’s hand had discretely moved to underneath the counter again. This time, he wasn’t reaching for a sharpening stone, his hand was resting on a revolver.

“There are seven men standing in my dress shop, and I don’t know why that is,” Selina stated, glancing around the room.

He grinned, “Ah, so you’re the owner of this fine establishment, you’re its namesake,” he said, walking up to the counter and standing directly across from her. “Well, Miss Clarke, have you considered that the seven men standing here might want dresses made for their girls?” he suggested.

“And yet, none of you brought any of your ‘girls’,” Selina observed, wagging her pencil. “Hard to do measurements on your girlfriends if they’re all figments of your imagination,” she remarked, which the man smirked at.

He leaned against the counter, his eyes boring into hers once more.

“Signorina, I’ve been told you deal in a great many services,” the man hinted, as she placed the pencil down.

“As do many other dressmakers,” Selina retorted, interlocking her fingers. “Signore,” she added.

A smirk tugged at the Italian’s lips, his eyes merely twinkling with mirth at Selina’s use of his language.

“How many deal with the criminal underworld?”

That one sentence caused an uneasy silence to envelope the room. Tension hung in the air, tight and overbearing. The atmosphere was suffocating.

“Shit,” she thought.

“Mr. Varma and Miss Russell, we have deliveries that need to be taken out today,” Selina informed, gazing between the two of them. “Why don’t you two do it now, before it gets too late,” she said, as the man pushed away from the counter, a smug grin on his face.

“Miss Clarke—”

“Now, Miss Russell,” Selina ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,”

Julia nodded in defeat and slid off her white coat and hung it up. Reluctantly, Naveen mimicked her movements, carefully pulling off his coat as well. Grabbing two of the three white parcel boxes, each neatly tied with a bow, Julia walked between the Italian man and Selina, shooting her one last wary glance before leaving with the chime of the bell. Naveen’s eyes swept over the room as he took the last parcel off the counter, slowly moving away from her.

“Wait,” Selina called, grabbing his arm. She rose from from the stool and pushed herself onto her tip toes. She leaned towards him as if she was going to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful. Make sure that you aren’t followed,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear.

“Christ, you’re not sending the boy to war,” the man jested, causing his henchmen to chuckle.

Selina’s eyes narrowed, but she remained silent as she pulled away from him.

“I’ll be careful with the dress, Miss Clarke. Don’t you worry,” Naveen assured, sending her a smile as he backed away.

“Make sure you take the scenic route, Mr. Varma,” the man ordered. “There are some things Miss Clarke and I need to discuss,” he explained, glancing over towards her.

Naveen shifted his eyes to Selina and she nodded her head, mouthing “Go,” to him. The little bell rang again, signaling to Selina that she was now utterly alone in her own shop which was currently being occupied by a group of strange Italian men.

“You run a tight ship, for a dress shop. I’m impressed,” he said, nodding his head. “Most times I tell people to do something, they do it, stranger or not. But not your workers,” he noted. “They look to you for your blessing,” he noted.

“It’s like you said, this is my namesake. What I say goes,” she countered coolly.

He chuckled, “You’ve got spirit, I like that,” he commented, pointing a finger at her.

Abruptly, the man started speaking in Italian and his henchmen immediately filed out of the shop.

“So, do you want a dress made or not, sir?” Selina asked, crossing her arms. “Though, I still don’t know how would you do it. Your girl isn’t present for measurements,” she said, an expectant look on her face.

“I’m staring at the perfect model,” the Italian stated, almost purring.

There was a hunger in the man’s eyes as they traveled down her body, and oddly enough, it sent delicious chills up her spine and flooded her body with warmth.

Selina’s eyebrows rose, “Women come in all different shapes and sizes,” she pointed out. “It’s simply impossible for she and I to have the exact same measurements,” Selina explained, shaking her head.

“Let me worry about that,”

“How am I going to take the measurements? I sent Mr. Varma and Miss Russell out,”

“I’ll do them,”

Selina couldn't help it. Her poker face broke as she let out an incredulous laugh.

“You?” she questioned, her brow arched. “You’re not a tailor,” she stated, looking him up and down.

“My uncle is one,”

“Oh, quite the qualification,” she quipped.

“Humor me,” he said, another smirk on his face. “I want to talk business with you,”

“Other than dresses?” Selina asked knowingly, unbuttoning her coat.

“Other than dresses, Miss Clarke,” he repeated, as she laid the coat onto the counter.

“Hmm,” Selina hummed, moving from behind the counter. “For your girl’s sake, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she commented, brushing past him.

She walked towards a section secluded from the rest of the shop. Immediately her eyes fell upon the two cushioned chairs near the open entrance, the three panel mirror directly positioned in the center of the room, and a single door to the changing room. Entering the space, Selina stood in front of the mirror and briefly shut her eyes while rubbing her temples.

“This is such a terrible idea, why did I ever agree to this? I don’t even know who I’m speaking with,”

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Selina reminded loudly, still massaging her temples. “How am I to do business—”

“Luca Changretta,” he murmured hotly against her ear, his breath leaving goose bumps on her flesh. “Of the Changretta Family,” he added, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Can’t say that I’ve heard of you, Mr. Changretta,” Selina responded, trying to control her breathing.

She needed to remain calm, and keep herself composed and grounded. She refused to show him how much he was affecting her. That would just be embarrassing and mortifying.

“I’m truly hoping that there’s another Changretta family out there, and not the one I’m thinking about,” she thought.

“But,” Luca began, his cold nose butting against her ear. “I’ve heard of you, Miss Selina Clarke,” he informed, finally pulling away from her. “The dressmaker who has a penchant of keeping her ear to the ground,” he went on, now standing in front of her.

“It’s not a crime to be a well-informed citizen, is it?” Selina asked curiously, looking up at him.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then why—”

She was cut short, inhaling sharply as slender fingers slid around her waist and cinched a ribbon of measuring tape tightly against her. The motion had her nearly made bump chest to chest with Luca. He gazed down at her, studying Selina with shrewd eyes; reading her like an open book. She felt like she was being pried apart by the dark pupils roaming her face. She felt completely naked. Selina drew a shuddering breath, each and every one raising her chest up and down

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, she was surprised that Luca couldn’t feel thumping in her chest, but she was eternally grateful.

“However,” he continued, briefly glancing at her lips. “Not many citizens make it their business to know the ins and outs of the criminal underbelly of their city,” Luca remarked, his eyes focusing back to the measuring tape.

“And why is an American interested in learning such knowledge?” Selina wondered, finding it much easier to breathe. “Don’t you have your own criminal underworld to worry about?” she asked again. He ignored the question and instead removed the tape from around her. “Unless, you’re a criminal yourself,” she figured, feeling the tape drop to her hips.

“I’m not just any old criminal, Miss Clarke. I’m head of a mafia family,”

“Fucking hell, the Sicilian mafia!”

Gingerly, he brought his arms around Selina, circling her bust and pinching the tape at the side. Luca stared at the number before smirking to himself, not even bothering to hide his gaze on the hint of cleavage from her top.

“Men can be such pigs,” she thought.

“The Changretta Family,” she began, getting his attention away from her breasts. “Still doesn’t ring a bell,” she lied.

“I wouldn’t expect it to,” Luca answered simply. “But I do know, that you’ve heard of another prominent family in this city,” he said, with a knowing stare. “One full of fucking gypsies,” he added.

“You’re talking about The Shelby Gang,” Selina replied, her face neutral.

“Shit, what did Tommy step into now?”

“Indeed I am,” Luca confirmed, as holding her arm up with his large hand and stretching the tape along it, starting to measure her left arm.

“Of course I’ve heard of them, who hasn’t?”

Luca read the tape before pulling it away, “What have you heard then?” he questioned.

“The same as everyone else I suppose,” Selina answered absentmindedly, as Luca finished measuring her other arm. “Cuts people a smile and blind ones that can see. Fiercely loyal to each other and little bit volatile,” she described, shrugging her shoulders. “Of course, that depends on which way the wind blows each day,” she noted.

In a way, Selina was being truthful, she mostly kept herself out of Peaky business, focusing mainly on her craft. Of course, that is not to say Selina did not know the ins and outs of the organization, she was very much aware of their dealings. Today was different, as it had shown Selina that her approach staying out of it didn't always go to plan. The Peaky Blinders affairs had landed right on her doorstep.

He paused, “You must heard more than that,” Luca said, eying her skeptically.

“Must I?” she asked back, cocking her slightly. “I hear just enough that my ears don’t get cut off,” she retorted.

The room fell silent and the tension between them was palpable again. It was thick and bulky, impossible to ignore. Luca and Selina stared each other down, neither backing off from the other. It was there, a new type tension began to unfold, one of the carnal nature. Selina felt something stir deep inside, something that she hadn’t experienced a while. Longing. Desire.

“I’m quite sorry that you traveled all this way and I couldn’t be of assistance,” Selina stated, finally breaking strained silence.

“Oh, just the opposite sweetheart,” Luca replied, the heat in his gaze burning through her like a wildfire.

“If I may ask,” Selina began, looking up from her lashes. “What’s an American mafia leader interest in a British one?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Luca let out a series of tsks and shook his head. Already standing close to each other, he reached his hand out and gently ran a finger down her cheek.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head about that,” he answered, tapping the tip of her nose.

“You think I’m pretty, Mr. Changretta?”

“I think you’re a helluva lot more than pretty, Miss Clarke,” Luca stated, staring at her lips once more.

Another shiver coursed through her from the combination of his accent and his close proximity. Selina was inches away from him, their lips barely touching, breath mingling together in the tiny space between them.

“I do have one more thing to share with you,” Selina admitted breathily.

“What’s that?” Luca asked, his breathing just as ragged.

She stood up on her tiptoes, leaning forward to press her lips to his. But, at the very last second she dipped her head and ghosted her lips over his jawline.

“You’re a terrible tailor,” she whispered into his ear, before drawing back as he chased after her mouth.

Luca let out a frustrated puff of air, chuckling lightly against her cheek.

“You’re a fuckin tease,” he said, a slight growl in his voice.

Selina smiled as she used her hand to cover his own, guiding the slender fingers to slip up underneath her skirt.

“You didn’t take measurements of my thighs,” she reminded, her tone dropping an octave.

Her skirt rose all the way to the apex of her right hip, revealing thick thighs encased in sheer material of her stockings. Luca swallowed audibly, his fingers tracing over the fabric.

“Silly me, how could I forget,” he murmured, slowly dragging his eyes over her exposed leg.

Luca knelt in front of her, letting his cool fingers caress the bare skin where the stockings ended. Slowly, his hand curved over her hip, squeezing roughly at her backside. Unconsciously, Selina’s head fell backwards, her lips parting with a breathy sigh as her eyes fluttered shut. Her heart was beating wild in her chest, like it was about to explode. The only thing keeping her steady was her hand on Luca’s shoulder and the grip on the back of his neck.

He tugged at her leg slightly, pulling her closer to his face and slid his nose over her rich skin. Luca inhaled deeply, breathing in the flowery perfume she put on in the morning before planting his lips on her flesh. Slow, languid, and hot open mouthed kisses that trailed up her leg as Luca started to undo the clips holding her stocking up.

Loud gasps and pants escaped past Selina’s lips, her eyes screwing shut instinctively. Luca’s hair was no longer neatly slicked back, not with her manicured nails mussing it up. Suddenly, the cool sensation of the measuring tape around her thigh, shocked her. The ribbon almost felt like it was burning her already hot flesh. Pulling away from her thigh with a soft smack, Selina could feel Luca’s damp, warm breath fanning across skin.

“Since I’m no tailor, I may need assistance on where to measure from,” Luca stated, his breath coming out in short puffs.

A genuine smile finds its way to Selina’s face and she lets out an airy giggle, opening her eyes. Luca was already staring up at her, the intensity of his stare made her heart skip a few beats. Selina ran her fingers through his hair, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck.

“Mr. Changretta, you’ll be glad to know that there are three ways to do that,” Selina informed, a pleased smile on growing on her face. “And I would be more than happy to teach you,” she offered cheekily.

Part II

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #black fanfiction #black oc #luca changretta x reader #black!reader #luca changretta #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders oc #luca changretta x oc #poc!reader #woc!reader

[izabesworld]

Roma attitudes and how to present us in your writing.

The top of this piece primarily discusses negative stereotypes in writings, so you can understand why these aren’t really true, and the bottom has a header which you can read to see how to present us as we are.

FOR MORE READ THIS.

Do I think this piece will be groundbreaking? Absolutely not. Do I hope this piece will prevent AT LEAST one writer from making a common mistake in their writing? Absolutely.

I want to start of with Roma Family Loyalty. This is something people are eager to show in their writing, presenting family units as something that is powerful and strong, which is great. However, like all families, we have limits.

A popular mistake in Peaky Blinder fanfiction is the misuse of this loyalty. It’s not shown in celebration, we don’t see Roma characters celebrating character achievements to the small things like better results in school and moving up in a business.

However, what we do see is family loyalty in a way that portrays us as violent. We read about a family member killing a character, and don’t see the backlash the character should receive. We don’t see the distrust you now feel for that person, we don’t see the problems that now arise. Violence committed by Roma is such a common topic in fan-fiction, when in fact, it is very rare.

Of course, the Peaky Blinders series is filled with blood, guns and knives but it’s also filled with Aunt Pol’s love of God, it’s filled with Arthur’s character change, it has Ada’s moving on from old family ways for a better life for herself and her children. All things that would’ve been celebrated.

A Roma family would’ve been ecstatic to see the change in Arthur. It would’ve been celebrated and praised, not pushed off and ignored. It’s not something that happened over night, it required dedication and support from those closest.

You often see scenes in “Shelby Sister” series where the Shelby Sister in question is afraid of Aunt Pol and Tommy because she gets beat. When this too, isn’t a reality.

Of course, it does still happen, and I don’t want to dismiss ANYONE who is a victim of this time of punishment, however, in Roma it’s extremely uncommon. (We are more creative).

When in the series has Aunt Pol been portrayed as someone who beats Finn as punishment? When Finn smoked that cigarette, he received a tap to the head and a word later. He was not beaten, so why is it done in fiction?

Roma families protect their family, they do not beat them. (Still not trying to dismiss anyone who was a child beat by their Roma family, this is just an in general <3). DESPITE the times they lived in where this was considered normal.

We are not genetically violent. We do not grow and and think “guns are okay”. In our world, they are not. At the time, everybody owned a gun, however, we knew the consequences of using one. It wasn’t a first option, nor was it really an option at all.

Selling Family Members?

We do not sell family members. This one is a BIG one for me.

We do not get in debt with another Roma family and offer daughters to solve that debt. We speak to them… Like everyone else? I’m not sure where selling Roma children has come from.

We do not offer out children to random Roma families. We do not meet a wealthy Roma man and think, “yes, I will sell my daughter to him”.

Yes, we do have a history of arranged marriages, and they do still happen today, within reason. We do not marry happy people with happy relationships. We do not marry people who do not want a partner. We do not marry people because they’re “too crazy”.

We marry people with what’s best for them. We ask people what is that family like? Where do they travel? Is there any significant history in that family I should be aware of? Families spend MONTHS even YEARS getting to know the other family beforehand, asking around and getting to know them.

Esme and John was a one off thing, and was a marriage I don’t believe was presented right. The Shelby’s and Lee’s were already familiar with each other, having spent years of connections. Esme needed a husband, and John needed a wife. Esme was not quickly given away at convenience, do you truly think families would allow that??

Our whole lives do not revolve around spirituality and thinking we are being followed by ghosts. We do not live in a constant state of paranoia — it’s unrealistic.

Of course, we dabble into it once in a while, we explore what we can’t see and test the waters, but we are not running around believing there is a bad omen behind us.

Reading People.

Honestly, I do believe this is also something exaggerated in people when writing. We don’t sit and analyse you when we first meet you, but we do try to find out about you before we begin sharing details of ourselves.

We don’t go, “oh, she scratched her nose, she’s a pathological liar”, but we do go, “he’s quite fidgety, perhaps he’s uncomfortable”.

Yet we do still make mistakes, we are not upper beings who know all and do all. We do still make bad friends, and become close with people we do not truly know, despite the fact we thought we knew them.

We do still get in arguments and upsetting conversations, we are not immune to emotions.

Enough of the negative.

I’ll be blunt and honest, we do still make mistakes. We will still get in silly fights, we do still push people a little bit too far, which is normal, we are all human, no?

Roma feel emotions, we get sad when our day isn’t going right, and feel happy when our dinner came out perfectly cooked. We feel love for those closest to us, and feel an intense amount of care for them.

We have friends, lots of friends. Sometimes they’re only Roma friends, other times we meet them in primary school.

We have family celebrations, where we thank musicians by licking money (notes 💴) and sticking them to their foreheads.

We have horses, often not many but us usually a family will have one.

We are not natural riders. Of course we do pick it up quite quickly, having seen those around us do it so often, however we do make mistakes. We do fall off our horses, and we get upset when we do, because it hurts and we’re human. We do have good days with our horses, where we are content and happy.

We make AMAZING meals with cabbage, this could be a whole post in itself. However, we aren’t too good with cooking bread, (for some odd reason?).

We sit with our families and talk about our days. Yes there is secrets, but we do still discuss “why on earth have they changed that shop?”

Just remember when writing us, we are regular human beings, and I think you’ll do okay! <3

#finn shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #arthur shelby x reader #peakyblinders #peakyblindershelp #izabesworld peakyblinders #izabesworld

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB's Recommendation List: February '23 Part 2

Welcome to February's recommendation list, part two. If you haven't already, you can find part one here. The last list had 32 fanfiction recs in it this one might come in a little under as I have my cousin coming to visit me the last few days of the month. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, or your stories, or even just your blog, please feel free to tag me, in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope your valentines day was a good one and those partaking in Lent, you got this! Happy March everyone!

WE REACHED THE LIMIT ON THIS LIST! FROM NOW ON, I'LL TRY & NOT TO MAKE IT SO LONG. SORRY!

🌹 February '23 Pt 1

March '23 🍀

Masterlist

Billy The Kid: The Playlist (Billy O'Grady) - "So what is wrong with another sin?" - "Rock You Like A Hurricane" by Scorpions

King Billy O'Grady (Moodboard)

Playlist for Uhtred the Berserker - "You'll be a man, boy!" - "Run Boy Run" by Woodkid

Uhtred the Berserker (Moodboard)

Thomas Micheal Shelby - "There was no doubt that Tommy Shelby had a soul and a heart that beat."

Luca Changretta (Moodboard)

Thomas Shelby "I Need My Girl" (Mood Board)

A Daughter's Return (Moodboard)

Tommy Shelby Pinterest Ask Game (Moodboard)

Lavender Haze >> Tommy Shelby x Estella Holland (Moodboard)

ONE-SHOTS:

*36 Minutes by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Reader gets stood up, but is it really so bad? | Ace delivered again in her Valentine's Day Fic Special. Cranking out some of the best works, I've ever read.

*As The World Caves In by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: What would you do when your world comes caving in? | I did indeed cry at this beautifully written masterpiece.

Bound By Blood by @noforkingclue >> Dark!Vampire!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You never expected that working for the Shelbys would be easy. However, you never expected you would gain the interest of Tommy, let alone what would happen next. | This was so freaking good seriously. I never knew I needed Vampire!Tommy till I read this. I need more Vampire!Tommy.

*A Christmas Journey by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby & Secretary - Summary: A Journey back from London in the Christmas Season with his secretary doesn't go as planned. | If I’m being honest, I’m not one for Christmas, but this could get me in the mood for Christmas. I love how this takes you into the mind of Tommy and how his secretary influences his view. So well written.

Daddy's Girl by @gypsy-girl-08 >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: Tommy's world revolves around his two girls, his wife, and his daughter. | This was cute and a nice change of pace to read. I would like to see more Dad!Tommy and Uncle!Finn as well.

*For A Good Cause by @peacexatxlast >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy is in a mood and snaps at Frances. His wife does not approve... | So hot and so well-written!

*Mama Bear by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: Inspector Campbell thinks he can get to Tommy through his daughter. Mrs. Shelby finds out and is having none of that. | So good. It's a good reminder to never mess with a mother who loves her child and her family.

Punishment by @mxpseudonym >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy’s wicked games leave you breaking the rules, but punishment for you means punishment for him too. Who can hold out the longest? | This is perfectly Spicy!

Red Lipstick by @cupidsheqrts >> John Shelby x Reader - Summary: You feel flattered when Charlie Shelby asks to marry you while your husband feels like he could strangle his nephew. | This was so adorable to read. I loved everyone's reaction as you read along.

*The Recovery by @cillmequick >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy ruins his own specially planned Valentine’s evening and has to work hard to get back in his wife’s good books. | This is so good! I think I may have blushed while reading it was so good.

Tommy Pressing His Forehead to Yours by @zablife >> dark!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Ambushed by the Italians, the Shelby family, especially Tommy does everything he can to figure out who did it. | You know it’s good writing when the writer can get your heart to drop to the bottom of your stomach. Lee does what she does best, writing.

MINI-SERIES:

SERIES:

Betrayal by @cillmequick >> Tommy Shelby x Reader x Luca Changretta - Summary: Tommy and Y/N have been together, in secret, for some time, after growing up together on the streets of Small Heath. Tommy was poised to have everything he ever wanted until a colossal error of judgment comes back to haunt him and he finds himself on the wrong side of the woman he loves. | If you haven't read it yet, please do yourself a favor, grab a drink, and get ready to be blown away.

DRABBLES:

Day 14 by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: This is a request I made where Tommy gets the marriage license for their marriage. | I'm so happy with how it turned out. It felt like I was getting a Valentine's Day gift.

MINI-SERIES:

Try a Little Tenderness by @ramp-it-up >> Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader - Summary: Steve can't win you with presents. He's got to try a little tenderness. | I came here for the pairing and stayed for the plot. It’s so hot, the plot, that is. Please enjoy this as much as I did.

ONE-SHOTS:

His Most Prized Possession by @bucky-barnes-diaries >> Dark!Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader - Summary: You’re the wife of the most feared man in all of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes, the mob boss of the biggest mafia in town. Your his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property, his most prized possession. He will torture and kill anyone who dares to make any advances on his woman, and he won’t hesitate to show them who you belong to in the most sinful way possible before their end. | Just the kind of hot you need on a cold winter's morning. It is 🥵 🥵 🥵 y’all! Remember to read the warnings ⚠️!

Shake It Like A Polaroid Picture by @world-of-aus >> Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader - Summary: Bucky loves to take pictures to remember you. | So very spicy, and I loved the writing and teasing!

The Video by @becca-e-barnes >> Pornstar!dbf!Bucky Barnes x Reader - Summary: You find out what your father’s best friend does for work. | Don't ask me why but Pornstar!Bucky and Steve are some of my favorites to read and this one does not disappoint me. You get a good dose of feels, along with a good dose of spiciness in this.

Unattainable by @heavysoldat >> dbf!Bucky Barnes x Reader - Summary: The reader has a horrible, no, good day, in which Bucky comes to save the evening. | If you want something hot to read on a lonely night, this is it for you.

What Goes Around by @navybrat817 >> BFD/DBF!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - Summary: Bucky is your friend's dad and your dad's friend and nothing more. Until he isn't. | This is hot, it’s got the shameless smut, and it’s got the possessive Bucky. What more could you really ask for?

Why Wait by @fatecantstopme >> DBF!Bucky Barnes x Plus size!reader - Summary: You've known Bucky for years, but the dynamic between you had begun to shift since you'd graduated college. He suddenly found himself struggling to act normal around you and you decided to make it your mission to find out why. | The jokes in this were fantastic. It had me laughing. The writing in general, was just fantastic, especially when you get to the hot stuff. Highly recommend!

ONE-SHOTS:

In The Shadow by @littlefreya >> General Kirigan x Reader | Geralt x Reader - Summary: Geralt and you are captured by the Darkling and about to find out his means of punishment are quite unusual. | I would have never thought of this crossover, and I'm so glad the writer did. Please read the warnings, its dark but oh-so-good!

*Stories of Us by @writingdumpster >> Jonah Heidelbaum x Hunter!Reader - Summary: Jonah tells the reader he wants to have a family but she doesn't think she's worthy of motherhood after all she's done. | Do you hear that in the distance? That would be my heart breaking and slowly being put back together all in one one-shot. That is how well-written this is!

TEACH ME + R U SHY? by @ramp-it-up >> Lloyd Hansen x Reader - Summary: Lloyd's had his eye on the maid for the past three days, thinking he's struck the gold mine when he's found a 19-year-old virgin. | This is *chefs kiss* perfect. You will not believe the ending.

MINI-SERIES:

Lost Without You Pt. 1 & Pt. 2 by @gypsy-girl-08 >> Cillian Murphy x Reader - Summary: Your six-year relationship with Cillian, comes to an end. Can you both move on? | This made me feel everything I wanted to feel in a two-shot/mini-series. You have the heartbreak, the love, and the devotion the characters have for one another. Very beautiful.

SERIES:

Begin Again Pt. 2 by @teds-mustache-wrangler >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny - Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season’s pressures and the demons of their past? | You don't understand how honored I am to be able to read this before it gets posted, and also to get to see the characters develop. I didn't ever recall laughing at a story before, but this one, this one makes me laugh.

@zablife - Let's take a moment to say happy one-year anniversary to Lee here on Tumblr! She has over 100 writings she accumulated over the year she's been on here, sharing with us. Lee writes for the Peaky Blinder fandom and the fandom is so very lucky to have her.

#recommendation list #ktk recommends #midnightswithdearkatytspb #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #billy hargrove #stranger things #fortunate soul #ted lasso x ofc #ted lasso #darce montgomery #uhtred of bebbanburg #jonah heidelbaum #jonah heidelbaum x reader #john shelby x reader #charlie shelby #luca changretta #general kirigan #shadow and bone #geralt of rivia x reader #general kirigan x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #the gray man #dom!tommy shelby x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[allthewriteplaces]

Magnolia In May - Chapter One

Hello, everyone! I have been working since May to create this fanfiction and now, I am here to share it with you all! 🤍 That being said, thank you for being so patient with me while I try and pluck up my courage and get over writer's block to post this.

My story takes place in between seasons 5 and 6, with a few changes here and there because yes.

Story summary: Jessie Bennet lives in the English countryside with her uncle, her aunt and her five cousins. But one day in May, an unexpected visitor shows up on her doorstep, one who's about to change the course of her life forever.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 4551

Chapter One

I first met Thomas Shelby a year ago. It was a supposedly ordinary day in early May, the time of year when spring made its debut in the form of warm, flowery breezes, budding leaves on the treetops and scattered rain showers throughout. The days were getting longer, the nights were slowly shrinking back away, and the sun was starting to make more of an appearance, a rare sight in England, considering it was under a seemingly near constant cover of clouds. Even in the winter, it always seemed to be cloudy. Cold enough to snow, but I hadn’t seen snow on the ground since I was small. 

Because of the sunshine streaming into our bedrooms, me and the rest of my family had risen earlier than usual to get a head start on the daily chores. 

Everyone had a job to do and we ran on a tight schedule, like a crew on the Navy ships, especially on the Holy days, when the main goal was to get everyone ready and out the door in time for Sunday Service. Today was Saturday, and while I would have been more than happy to spend a few more hours in bed, there was plenty of work to be done around the cottage. 

I had spent the better part of my life here. Just before my parents died, my mother took my hands in her cold, clammy ones, I looked into her greying eyes as the hazy film began to cloud over them, and she told me I was going to live with my Uncle Albert, my Aunt Elizabeth, whom everyone else called her ‘Eliza,’ and my two older cousins, Sarah and David, in Warwickshire, the heart of the English countryside. 

She said the cottage was surrounded by miles and miles of tall fruit trees, rolling hills and lush green fields and a lake nearby. She promised that it would be my sanctuary, my own paradise, somewhere I can let all of my troubles go. 

Of course when I got there that cool, autumn morning, I was intrigued by the beauty of it all. The main road ran through orchards, past rivers and lakes, and continued onto the next town. Now and then, there were the occasional settlements where our neighbours lived and I could see the fires at night or could hear the lively music. I automatically sensed that this was where people came to get away from the stress of city life. 

Aunt Eliza, that’s what I called her, had already had her fair share of stress, her first husband died from something called consumption, leaving her with my older cousins to raise by herself on a maid’s salary. She was a pretty and sensitive woman, but though I wouldn’t call her a fighter, she was strong in her own way. 

She had this natural-born ability to put anyone at ease just by being in the same room as they were. That first night at the new place, when my homesickness was at its absolute worst, she let me sleep in the big bed with her so I would feel safe, saying. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.” 

Eliza came from a big family and had been raised Protestant by her parents in Glasgow, but after she met Uncle Theo, her first husband, she had sacrificed everything they knew and loved, to give their six kids, including my mother, a better life. My best memories of them were when my mother and I drove all the way across the Highlands to visit them during summer holidays and at Christmastime. 

Uncle Albert came into the picture shortly after Sarah got married and set off on her own path. The only trouble was, he was Catholic. The battle between Catholics and Protestants was rooted in history, and I wasn’t sure the reason, but it didn’t stop Eliza from falling in love with him. Like Romeo and Juliet, they went against their parent’s wishes and married in secret in a beautiful chapel. After which she eventually converted to catholicism. 

Tension was high in the family once my grandparents found out about the marriage, it was common for disputes to start, sometimes from the smallest thing, and during those arguments, which seem so petty now, I would be sent to my room to play and asked that I play as loud as I could so I wouldn’t hear the fighting. 

Eventually, I had enough and actually ran away from home. It was stupid, really, I shouldn’t have done it, but I just couldn’t stand it. It was Uncle Albert who found me, soaked to the skin and sick as a dog from being out in the rain for so long. 

The only good thing about it, was that for once, they weren’t shouting at each other, they were all hovering over me and my grandfather was calling for a doctor. Me running away seemed to snap them out of it, if only for just a few minutes, I still remember opening my teary eyes and saying, “Why doesn’t anyone love each other anymore?” 

That was when it hit them, just how much this was impacting me, a small child of ten years old, who was somehow trapped in the middle of this feud that had nothing whatsoever to do with me, and doing whatever it took in an attempt to stop it. 

Tears were shed and everyone embraced each other. A truce was formed that day. No more yelling, no more shouting. And to this day, we still see each other around the holidays. 

It was nearly six o’clock when I rolled over in bed, roused by the sunlight streaming in through the thin veil of curtains covering my bedroom window. The sky had taken on glorious shades of pink, orange and violet, casting shadows on the canopy and on the striped walls. I didn’t want to move from that spot, I wanted to stay in bed where it was nice and comfortable, but the second I heard three-month-old Violet, the baby of the family, babbling in her crib, I lifted the sheets back and rolled out, making sure the sheets were tucked in and there weren’t any wrinkles as I tucked the corners of them into the mattress. 

Making my way out of my room, shutting the door tightly behind me, her little voice carried through the hallway. She wasn’t in distress or anything, she was only talking to herself. When I stepped into her room and peeked into her crib, she was laying flat on her back, eyes wide open and a bright smile on her face. 

“Someone's wide awake, eh?” I said and her smile brightened. 

Look, I know I wasn’t supposed to have a favourite cousin, but from the moment I had watched her enter the world -- it was the first time I’d seen a baby be born, ever, so it was all brand new to me, I felt this strong connection to her, and this overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her from any sort of harm that might come to her. 

Reaching down into the crib, I picked her up with both hands and held her against my chest, ensuring her head and neck were supported, seeing as how she wasn’t quite strong enough to hold her head up on her own just yet. 

“Mama says we need to find your pink cardigan to wear. I believe I put it in the closet after bringing it inside, but I’m not sure.” I added in a calm, soothing voice as she yawned and nuzzled her head against my chest. I bounced her lightly on my hip and went over to the dresser, opening the middle drawer and pulling out her fuzzy pink cardigan as well as a new nappy. 

“Jessie!” I turned to the doorway and saw Alice standing there with her hands on her hips. She looked so much like my aunt when she did that it wasn't funny. “Marie stole my hair ribbon again!” 

“Did not!” Marie yelled, stomping her foot. 

“Did, too!” Her sister yelled back. “You take them all the time!” 

“Not this time!” Marie shook her head. She was on the verge of tears. 

“Surrender now or suffer the consequences!!” Suddenly, the door burst open and Henry, who'd just turned six, started running around the room, followed by his twin brother, William. Both of them were still wearing their nightshirts, their hair was still spiky and stuck up in odd places, and as they chased one another around the room, they brandished wooden swords. 

Like most boys their age, they were always running around the house with their toy cars, trucks and planes, or roughhousing with each other. Roughhousing wasn’t allowed indoors and there were strict rules, set by my uncle, as to how far they could go before they would be told to end the game to prevent anyone from getting hurt. Their sisters were always welcome to join in the fun, and sometimes they did if the game they were playing was interesting enough for them, but most of the time it was just the two of them, conjuring mischief. 

“No! I won fair and square,” William argued, folding his arms across his chest, his voice raising in volume. He had a loud voice for a six-year-old and he knew exactly how to use it when he thought it was necessary. 

“No! I won!” Henry insisted.  “Admit it, you cheated!”

“I didn’t cheat, you did, you mongrel!” 

“I’m not a mongrel, you are!” 

“Mongel!” Marie repeated, pointing to Henry, then to William, then to Alice. 

“Stop saying bad words!” Alice gasped. “I’ll tell Mama!” 

“Oi! What did I say about calling your brother names?” I said. 

“He started it!” said Henry, pointing a finger at William. 

“And where did you hear such foul language?” 

“Timmy Munson,” he replied, twirling the wooden sword in his other hand. 

“Yeah,” said William. “He called his brother, Davy, that word last Sunday on the way back from Church. Then he wrestled him to the ground and got all muddy and dirty. His parents didn’t even bat an eye. They were too busy ” 

That explains it. 

Timmy Munson was nearly sixteen and was referred to as the ‘leader of the pack.’ or the town’s trouble maker by the adults around him. He swore, he smoked, he stole his father’s liquor and teased the girls at church something terrible, with the parents seemingly oblivious to what was going on, or decidedly ignoring his rebellious behaviour, hence why neither Henry, nor William were allowed to play with Timmy, and the girls weren’t allowed to speak to him. 

My aunt and uncle thought he was a bad influence and they were right. There were rumours that he was dating Misty Bradford, Father Bradford’s daughter. At Church, we called all the leaders ‘Father.’ His daughter, Misty, was fifteen, not quite old enough to start dating yet, but Alice once told me that she heard her say that he was handsome, but also, that he was the sort of boy that would date you for five minutes and then as soon as a prettier girl would come along, he would leave you without a second thought. 

On the other hand, I was glad that Misty was a sensible girl who wouldn’t fall to the temptations of the neighbourhood scoundrel, but on the other hand, I wondered if the reason why Timmy acted out was because it was the only way he got his parents’ attention. Maybe that was just my instincts kicking in, but if that was the case, I would certainly feel terrible for the poor lad. Even still, I wanted to discourage the boys from picking up such nasty habits and words. 

“Right, well, just because Timmy Munson says something or does something, doesn’t mean you should, eh?” I said, gently placing my hands on William’s shoulders and looking him square in the eyes. He met my gaze unflinchingly, which told me he was really listening to what I was saying to him. “Don’t try to be someone you’re not just to fit in. You are a sweet and caring young man, and we need more caring men in this world nowadays.” 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Really.” I nodded my head in confirmation. “Besides, girls love boys who are sweet, kind and caring and who get along with their brothers and sisters. At least that’s what I’ve heard.” 

He nodded and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I say, let’s call it a tie, then.” 

William shrugged his shoulders microscopically. “Sounds fair,” 

“Now shake hands. Like the good sports you are.” 

They shook hands, laughing to themselves, signalling a truce. 

“GAAAAAAH!” Violet shrieked near my ear, kicking her feet and looking at her brothers as I delicately pulled her arms through the sleeves of her nightgown, putting it in a basket so I could take it to the laundry tub and wash it later on. 

I wasn’t sure if she was telling them to stop, or if she was taking a side in the disagreement. I placed her down on the bed along with her new clothes. Hearing her little shriek, both of the boys climbed up on the bed next to her. Henry nuzzled her tummy with his nose and William tickled her with his finger, making silly faces and noises. Her eyes crinkled and I could see the giggles bubbling up inside her, like the lava bubbling up inside a volcano and after a few seconds, she exploded into shrieks of laughter. 

“Anyone puts a tear in your eye,” Henry vowed, “will live to regret it.” 

“Yeah,” William agreed. “We’ll protect you. Like good big brothers.” 

Good, I thought, That’s one problem solved. 

Small disagreements were common among the four of them, and it was nothing I couldn’t handle, but it was too early for them to start bickering, and for some reason, I could feel this tension in the house, like something was about to happen, and they must have felt it, too, because normally, they were all well-behaved. 

“Right, Marie, I’m going to ask you once. Did you take Alice’s hair ribbon?” 

“No,” she answered, looking me straight in the eyes, which told me she was telling me the truth and that this time she was innocent. She had a habit of taking her sister’s hair ribbons when hers got lost, it was something that started a little 

“Are you sure?” She nodded affirmatively and I addressed Alice. “Alice, Marie says she didn’t take the ribbon, are you sure it’s not in your room? Perhaps it fell out while you were sleeping. See if it’s in your bed.” 

“Okay,” Alice said slowly and then quickly ran back to her room with Marie running after her. Soon, both of the girls returned, both wearing relieved expressions on their faces, though Alice appeared to be a tad more embarrassed than her sister. She glanced down at the ground, a tad embarrassed and then she met Marie’s eyes. “I’m sorry I accused you. I just thought that maybe since you steal my ribbons all the time that you stole this one.” 

“It’s okay,” the younger one replied, accepting her sister’s apology and embracing her. Internally, I sighed in relief. Like I said, small disagreements were common, but nonetheless, I was glad that it was over and we could all continue on with our day as if nothing had happened. 

“Alright, all of you go into your rooms while I finish getting the baby ready and then I will be in shortly,” I declared and the boys slid off the bed, bringing their toy swords with them. The girls followed suit, going into their own room. I turned to Violet, who was recovering from giggling so much. “Never a dull moment, eh, sweetheart?” 

Trust me, making sure all of my younger cousins were dressed in clean clothes and had their hair combed before breakfast, was a lot easier said than done. 

She babbled on while I dressed her and I sang an upbeat song. It didn’t take much to keep her entertained and knowing how to keep her engaged made it easier for me to wash and dress her. After a moment, I managed to slip the cardigan on, then taking her in my arms again, I brought her down to the dining-room where Albert was reading the paper. 

“Isn’t it a little early for that, Uncle?” I asked. 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, love,” he replied, setting his gin down and then taking the baby in his arms, lifting her into the air and bringing her down again, kissing her cheeks. “There’s my little princess.” 

“You are not to drink that around the baby,” my aunt said, coming into the room and taking away the glass before turning to me. “Glad to see you’re wide awake, darling. How’re the children, they’re not giving you a hard time, are they?” 

“Nah. We had a tiny dispute with a ribbon and swords, but it’s all sorted.” 

“Jessie, what would we do without you?” she patted my cheek and then stepped back into the kitchen. 

Smiling and with one child ready, I went to check on Alice and Marie. Alice was the oldest at seven years old and fancied herself to be quite grown up in comparison to her siblings. She was an exact replica of her mother -- curly red hair, green eyes and freckles dotting her cheeks and loved helping me with the chores like laundry, making the beds, and occasionally cooking. 

She sat patiently on the chair in front of the mirror and her eyes met mine in the glass as the soft bristles of the brush swept across her hair. Adding a little bit of water to the brush helped to smooth out any tangles and maintain her pretty locks. 

Marie handed me the red ribbons while I braided Alice's hair in two even plaits down her back. However, when it was her turn, she wasn't as eager to be in the same room as me. In seconds, she'd already darted down the hall. 

 “Come along, Marie.”

“No! I don’t want to!” She shouted in protest and sat down in the middle of the floor, kicking her legs as I approached her. This was typical three-year-old behaviour, according to my friends who were already married and mother's, and these days, Marie had resorted to these sorts of tactics whenever things weren't going her way.  

Discipline wasn't exactly my forte. I tended to prefer negotiating or compromising rather than escalating the conflicts further by scolding. More often than not, it worked, but perhaps today the odds weren't in my favour.  

Without saying a word, I sat down on the ground, not engaging in conversation or looking at her until she stopped kicking. She laid on her stomach, her whole body now limp on the hardwood floor. 

“Now, Marie, is this the way young ladies behave?” I asked her, keeping my tone firm yet gentle. I was compelled to rub her back and soothe her, but coddling her and talking to her as if she were a baby would only encourage the tantrums or make them worse. “You don’t see your sister acting like that, do you?” 

She didn't answer me, but not because she was ignoring my question, but because she was considering the way she'd handled the issue. A few moments later, I tried again, hoping to get to the bottom of this. 

“Do you want to tell me why you don't want your hair brushed?”

“It will hurt.” I heard her sad, muffled voice reply. 

“Not if I use the soft brush,” I promised, then added, “what if I let you do it yourself like a big girl?”

 That seemed to draw her attention and she sat up and nodded. 

“You can wear red ribbons, too!” Alice added, doing her best to be helpful. 

“Yay!” She stood, taking my hand and soon enough, we were back in the girls' room, showing Marie how to brush her own hair. Then I braided it for her and put the ribbons in. At the same time, the boys came in, dressed and with their hair combed. 

“Well then, now that we're all dressed, shall we go down to breakfast?” 

“Yes,” they all answered unanimously and I led the procession downstairs. 

This time, it was the boys' turn to go to the henhouse to collect the eggs. 

They stepped into the hallway, slipping on their jackets and boots and followed Albert out the back door. The hens could sometimes be unpredictable and that would frighten the boys so he would always supervise. 

In the meantime, I would go to help my aunt prepare the biscuits and wash the strawberries and the girls would be in charge of setting the table. Alice carried in the forks and knives, while Marie was entrusted to carry in the napkins. 

“Well done!” I said once I stepped in to check the progress. Both girls smiled proudly at their accomplishment and they grinned at the praise. When we all worked together as a unit, things ran smoothly. 

Moments later, we all sat down at the table and held hands, bowing our heads low and closing our eyes as Albert led us in prayer, as was the tradition at family mealtimes. “Bless us, Lord of all Creation, and be with us as we share this meal. We thank you for our food and ask your blessing on those who prepared it. We thank you for the gift of our family. Amen.” 

Even little Violet knew what to do, well, in her own little way, of course. She sat in her chair and raised her hands up high, clapping them and uttering an exclamation of joy. For what was supposed to be a serious moment, she sure knew how to lighten things up. 

Topics of conversation usually involved upcoming and current events, anything Albert could gather from the paper, and plans for the day. I knew that I needed to do a bit more washing today and we needed to check on the chickens. 

“Due to a close call with a fox last night, we need to go out in the backyard to check on the coop. I suspect some of the wiring has been messed with and so we might need to replace it. That will be our task today, boys,” he said, and then glanced at William and Henry, who nodded. 

“Is the fox okay?” asked Marie, whose main concern didn’t necessarily match all the others’ who were more relieved that the fox hadn’t managed to carry off one of our hens. She was a very sensitive child and loved all animals, including those that some might consider pests. 

Foxes were among the ones she cared about the most. 

A few months ago, she heard one crying not far from the house and found that it was caught in a trap. She was distressed, tears streaming down her cheeks and breathing so fast, I thought she might faint. 

“Please,” she said, hands folded together, begging. “We have to save it!” 

“It would make a lovely coat,” William joked, but Marie didn’t find his attempt to lighten the mood the least bit funny. In fact, she was this close to smacking him across the face, and the Good Lord knows that she probably would have had my aunt not been present.  

“They’re God’s creatures, too,” she said passionately, appalled by the injustice she was seeing before her and by the fact that her older brother, although he meant no harm by the statement, was mocking the poor thing. “Daddy, please, we have to save it before it’s too late.” 

Fortunately, using a few tools from the garden shed, Albert managed to free the fox, but its leg was badly wounded. That is where my aunt came in. 

She knew exactly what to do when it came to nursing wounded and baby animals back to health. She grabbed some gauze from the First Aid kit, placed it over the wound, and wrapped a bandage around the leg. 

Of course it would be too dangerous to release it until it was all better, so it was agreed that the critter would stay for a couple of weeks. It was nice having her around. We called her Pumpkin, because of the orange colour of her fur and because we’d found her in the autumn, so it made sense her namesake would match the season. 

Let’s just say it was hard for us to let her go, especially for Marie. 

Now we sat at the table and part of me suspected that Marie hoped we would get another chance to look after a fox. Albert set down his knife and fork and nodded. “It looked as though he’d managed to free himself just in the nick of time, so yes, I would say he is perfectly fine.” 

“And he will continue to be fine. As long as the little rascal doesn’t get into the coop again,” my aunt added with a light-hearted smile. “Right then…” 

Just then, the telephone in the living room rang. 

“Alice, could you go get that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mama,” she got out of her chair, walking past Violet, who had now amused herself by looking down at her toes, and picked it up on the second ring, a second later, she called out, “It’s for you, Papa!” 

“Who on Earth could be calling at this hour?” she asked, confused as he cleared his throat, setting down his napkin and then taking the phone from Alice. 

He spoke in a low voice, so it was impossible for any of us to hear anything, but we all remained silent and still, that is until he came back into the dining-room, looked at my aunt and then nodded, as though conveying some sort of secret message. 

“Help me clear the table, children,” was all she said and the younger ones did as they were told. There was that tension in the air again. It was even more palpable this time as she hurriedly turned on the tap and added soap to the mix. I immediately stood from the table and helped her scrub the plates and utensils clean. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Behind me, the children continued to bring the glasses over. The only one who seemed oblivious to what was going on, was Violet, who was smashing her fists quite aggressively against the tray of her chair and shrieking loudly, in an attempt to get someone’s attention. 

“I am expecting someone important,” Albert said, while my aunt immediately opened the cabinet for a bottle of gin. Before I could utter another word, he waved a hand towards the staircase in a dismissive and almost urgent sort of way. “Go upstairs and play in the Nursery. Neither of you are allowed to come downstairs until your mama and I say so. Understand?”

“Yes, Papa,” the children said softly. 

“Who is coming over?” Henry inquired. 

“Is it someone from work?” added Marie. 

“Maybe it’s Grandpa and Granny,” said Alice excitedly. 

“Off you go,” he said. 

Without questioning him, I nodded and took the kids upstairs to the nursery, shutting the door tightly behind me.

~ To Be Continued ~

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x oc

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

I suppose I should talk about possible/confirmed plan changes to my WIPs?

(Fair warning: I've mostly calmed down, but I don't want to work myself up again, so I'm gonna be writing in a normal tone. I promise I'm not ignoring or trying to make light of the whole thing! I just don't wanna talk too deeply about it. All the love and support to Shelby Shubble & all victims of abuse!!!💖)

First off, I believe characters are separate from their creators- anyone who continues to create content about c!Wilbur has my support and respect!

(I will most probably continue to consume content related to c!Wilbur as well, though I will tag him as "c!Wilbur" now, rather than "Wilbur Soot"- I've been tagging all dsmp characters only as their corresponding CC's names, mostly out of laziness. For instance, c!Tommy wasn't tagged as "c!Tommy", he was tagged as "TommyInnit". I don't want to change my whole tagging system, but c!Wilbur at least will be tagged as "c!Wilbur" from now on!)

None of my writing was RPF in the first place, it was all about the characters- but I'm not sure if I myself am ready to freely write c!Wilbur or fanfiction!Wilbur stuff yet. Maybe I never will be; idk.

So here are the changes I'll be making!

DSMP Superpower AU: c!Wilbur will stay. I was planning to include all the DSMP characters(The 'mains', at least, I'm not sure about secondary characters yet), and the notion of leaving c!Wilbur out doesn't really appeal to me. So c!Wilbur will still appear here!

Temporal Transcendence: Honestly, at first I thought TT!Wilbur would be irreplaceable, but after some thought, I was surprised to find it might just work! Karl and Niki would play bigger roles than I expected, but it could definitely work. Heck, it might even be better than the original plan! So I think Wilbur will likely be cut from TT.

Oshi No Ko but Happier AU: I'm on the fence about this one. Wilbur's character isn't CRUCIAL crucial, but he's still pretty important. The outline of the plot will look much different if he does indeed end up getting cut out. So I'm gonna mark this WIP as a solid "idk" and just work it out as I go.

Rarepair Royalty AU: I've never talked about this AU. This one is a bit funny, cuz cutting Wilbur's character out actually solves some of the problems I had with the outline! The plot will actually work out better if Secondborn Prince Wilbur didn't exist- so he's definitely cut from this one! I just need to find someone new to pair with Karl. (Probably Seapeekay; I have the currently ongoing MCYT crackship brackets to thank for the ship!)

Lucky Star: Another fic that's never been talked about- this one is my newest WIP! :D I wasn't even sure where I was going to fit Wilbur in- a character called Wilbur never even existed here. Well, he did, but I'd deleted him for plot reasons a while ago and was in the middle of trying to find another slot. (Cyberknife is Techno's dead twin in this WIP btw- he's not a replacement character for Wilbur, the twin was always going to be Cyberknife.)

Tome AU: SBI literally only serves as Tommy's rich and powerful family here- at least, up to where I've fleshed out. Wilbur's only moment in the spotlight is when he argues with Tommy over dinner, bc he doesn't like how Tommy "got stuck" raising baby Shroud with Purpled(who found Shroud in a trash can), & is caught glaring at Purpled. I'll edit him out maybe. Or leave him, he's not a major character after all. idk.

Others(Mostly Bedrock Bros-centric): Honestly, I never could figure out how to write Wilbur's character that well. So 'Wilbur' isn't too big a character in most of these. Will likely cut.

Tom and Bunnypig(Bee and Puppycat AU): You know what, I think I'm going to make this half-baked idea into a proper WIP. Wilbur never existed here either, so yeah.

CONCLUSION: The whole thing is a mess, and I'm sad and mad, as we all are, but I'm gonna stop thinking about how horrible Wilbur Soot is & focus on how brave Shelby Shubble is!

I'm intrigued at what removing a single character did to my plot outlines, and hopefully, this will open a lot of new opportunities in my writing. I'm certainly looking forward to how my writing skills will develop after this.

To everyone who's actually read through this; thank you for reading this whole thing, I know it's kinda long.😅 Have a cookie and a hug, we all need it🍪🫂 Remember to drink water & eat something! All my love💖💖

#writing stuff #Lilly writes stuff #Lilly's dsmp superpower au #Temporal Transcendence #tome au #(the rest don't have tags lol) #wilbur soot #really hoping I can stop using that tag now #support abuse victims!!💖 #dream smp #dsmp