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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Note

Any headcanons about older Emma and Charlie? 🌷

🍷Join me for a Drink 🍷 - TBITW: Grown Emma and Charlie

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

This was written as part of my Series The Boy in the Window and contains spoilers

Warning: WWII, Bombings, Injuries, mention of death and violence, medical treatments, sexism, mental health problems (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Words: 1333

Tommy wants his children to go to the best possible school, which are mostly boarding schools, but can’t bring himself to send his children away. It is tricky to find a school, which takes both boys and girls but he won’t have them separated.

In the end, they find a school which not only has both boys and girls from the age of sixteen, but also a looser boarding system, allowing them to come home on the weekend.

For the first weeks, both parents are living in a rented house barely fifteen minutes away from the school in case the children need their help or want to go home.

Especially Charlie is homesick at first, but he has Emma and knows he can go home every weekend, which makes the transition easier.

At school, Emma excels at writing and speaking, at debating, mathematics and dramatic arts, while Charlie is excellent in biology, physics, chemistry, philosophy, literature and, like Emma, mathematics. He also starts to take an interest in drawing and poetry.

She becomes an excellent equestrian, so good that if she were a man, she could have made the Olympic Team by a country mile. She isn’t though, and there are some things even Tommy can’t change, even if it makes his skin itch with anger.

She is also an absolute heartbreaker, truly. But thankfully for Tommy’s nerves, she is never half as interested in a boy as she is in her horses, at least not until she is in her mid-twenties and falls head over heels

In my mind, independent of this story or any other Charlie becomes a doctor. He doesn’t seem to be all too like his father and I would love to see him pursue a more caring profession. It would also align with the charity work of the Shelby Family Foundation and while during WWII he would see more than his fair share of war, it would be vastly different from Tommy’s.

By the time war breaks out, he would still be studying. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he would not be sent to France but stay in Birmingham and quickly rise through the ranks. He has nerves of steele and steady hands and is soon in the operating chamber day and night to save the lives of the people of Birmingham that are caught in the bombings

He comes of age during that time, not just legally, but emotionally. He sees things just as bad if not worse than his father has seen in France, has decisions to make that are tricker than his fathers, different, yes, but no less easy. Practise makes perfect and soon he has the duties of doctors far his senior. He has the talent, the cool head and the dedication

During that time, he falls in love with a nurse. She is just as tough as she is and not at all content with keeping her mouth shut. She knows exactly what she is doing and is not shy to stand her ground, against anyone, no matter how rich or powerful or threatening.

He falls for her when they are in a bomb shelter and she is helping a woman deliver a child - it is the one time Doctor Shelby is close to losing his cool - an operation is one thing, but an unmedicated childbirth in the middle of an airstrike is a whole other thing, but she has nerves of steel and takes charge.

Within weeks she becomes his closest companion and ally. They pull each other through the war, after which they get engaged, however it would be years before they get married. She goes off and studies medicine in her own right first, and is one of the first women in England to keep her maiden name as a professional name since it would be very confusing to have two “Dr Shelby”s working at the “Shelby Family Hospital”.

The war causes Tommy’s mental health to turn for the worse; he blames himself for everything that happens, every death, every injury, every ruined building in the city. He has plans of course, for evacuation, for rebuilding, but he doesn’t have the strength to carry them out. Guilt, fear and PTSD renders him incapable of most things, even of engaging with the general public - of being the Tommy Shelby the world, and especially the city knows and respects.

In this time, it is (Y/N) that holds him together, if so barely. She is the one behind the scenes, caring for him, caring for others, managing his housing project, that turned into a refugee project, but behind the scenes work is not good enough in a situation like this.

So Emma steps up.

And how she steps up! Having always been a charismatic, charming girl, she had grown into a confident young woman, adopting a signature red lipstick and matching red ribbon in her hair to keep it out of her face. It looks strange at first, but before long it is the single most recognisable style in the city.

Many people are sceptical about leaving their city homes for refuge in the country, but the Shelby name, the Peaky Blinder’s reach, Ada Thorne MP’s influence and Emma’s charm is enough to convince most, even if it means she has to go knocking from door to door.

It isn’t known how many lives they saved, but when the bombs fall on all industrial cities, a large part of Birmingham is already empty, having relocated to all those country mansions Tommy had bought up earlier.

Those are managed by (Y/N), while Emma becomes pivotal for moral and communication in the city. The Major, the MP, the Home Secretary and the War Minister, they are all well and good, but Miss Emma’s word is more often than not the deciding factor. This irks some of the old guard in the ministeries and when they send a young officer from an old family, to investigate, and to ensure that everything runs in the proper order of things while removing “that girl” without any official position from influence. The visit goes as bad as possible, and he makes an utter fool of himself, and has to eat his words within an hour of meeting her. Birmingham is a Shelby city, and he quickly learns that Emma’s word holds much more sway than any official piece of paper.

It is only incidental that he requests leave for a follow up and quickly puts in a recommendation to grant more power and presence to community leaders instead of solely to military officials in this city and others.

When he asked Emma if she would go dancing with him, she said she would only go if he could beat her in a horse race. In the end, after the war was done, she beat him at an embarrassing scale, and he lost his chance to take her dancing. So she took him instead.

The war turns Tommy into an old man. There is no other way to put it, and even after it is finally over, recovery is slow, but still he doesn’t want to let go of the reigns of the company completely.

Charlie was practically running the foundation and the take over was only a formality. He would expand the medical care for impoverished families, healthcare, medical research etc.

And Emma’s charm, people skills and general knowledge are decisive in shaping the company in a post WWII world. They mainly take on the task of rebuilding infrastructure, mainly housing, in the big cities. Before long, he realises that Emma has what it takes to lead the company with Ada. While he never leaves an advisory position, he keeps handing her more and more control. This happens due to his age, his trust in both of them, his acceptance that the world is changing too fast for even him to keep up and the arrival of his grandchildren, who keep him more than busy enough.

End

I want to thank you for participating in my celebration and for expanding on this. I hope you like this little headcanon.

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jm-2406 · 3 months

Text

Summary - Tommy Shelby has been slowly drifting away from his only son after losing his wife. You are a nurse specialising in children's wards. When Frances comes running to the hospital with little Charlie in her arms, you decide to give a piece of mind to the bigshot gangster.

Words - 1.5k

Note - this is silly. I wrote it in less than one hour. It features an OOC Tommy Shelby and a daring reader who doesn't fear him like others.

Tommy Shelby, MP OBE was not used to getting calls between meetings, especially from his loyal housekeeper who knew when not to bother him. He was busy dealing with some important people, drowning himself in work like he usually did after Grace passed away. It was not that he didn't care for his son but sometimes looking at him was too difficult for him, the little boy had so much of Grace in him. So imagine his surprise when instead of Frances it was someone else on the other side of the telephone.

"Mr Shelby, I'm not Frances. My name is (Y/N) and I'd like to let you know that your son is not well. You should come as soon as possible to the hospital." You informed him without any hesitation, the concern for Charlie made your nervousness take a back seat plus not looking directly at his blue eyes also helped in retaining your confidence.

"What happened to him?" His lazy drawl came as a reply. "Well if you insist…" You tried to stall, tried to get under his skin so that he'd come to see his son but his silence made you speak up. "Mr. Shelby, I understand that you are grieving but so is your son. He was having a nightmare and needed someone to hold him close, to soothe him. I'd say he needed his father, not his nanny or Frances. Help yourself and your son by being there for him." Without thinking about the consequences, you pour your heart out and immediately hang up.

• • •

It has been a few days since the incident. You were worrying about Charlie and went to meet him directly at 'Arrow House'. [Yes, you are daring and a risk taker]. You knocked gently, arranging the basket of freshly baked cookies for the three-year-old cherub in your arms.

"Who are you?" A deep male voice caught your attention. Looking up, your breath got caught in your throat. Standing in front of you was the man of the house himself, Thomas Shelby. "What are you doing here?" You questioned foolishly instead. In your defence, you did not know that he'd be home at eleven o'clock since it was a Tuesday. He merely raised his eyebrow at your remark.

“If you didn't know Miss, this is my house. I live here.” Your cheeks reddened and you turned around to escape when a high-pitched voice stopped you. "(Y/N)" shouted Charlie. "Call her inside daddy. She's my friend." He said - more like ordered - his father who complied with a small "as you say, son." You felt a sense of comfort seeing the father and son interacting almost normally after that phone call incident.

Nervously, you stepped inside and Frances immediately took your coat as well as the basket of cookies. Charlie ran inside to get his colouring pages and asked you to wait for him. You were looking here and there, avoiding the dark-haired man but he had other plans.

"Thank you," Tommy said. You furrowed your brows in confusion. He cleared his throat and elaborated. "For making me realise that I was unknowingly neglecting my son, pushing him away from me. I love him, I really do. Thank you for making us come closer." He was not a man of words, especially praises but something about you got him talking, was it your kind nature, your non-judgemental eyes or your stern yet concerned voice when you called him that day that made him open up to you, he didn't know… but that is a topic for later.

"You're welcome, Mr Shelby. Charles is a sweet boy. I wish well for him." You blushed, no one had said such kind words to you. "How about you join us for dinner? Charlie would like that." Tommy said unexpectedly. Just as you were about to deny it, considering it rude to intrude, Charlie came running to you asking you to stay and colour with him. You couldn't say no to that adorable face.

And that's how you spent the evening, laughing and enjoying the company of two Shelby men, happier than ever.

• • •

[PART - 2]

It has been almost half a year since that evening you spent in the company of the Shelby men and you couldn't help but feel lucky. Everything went uphill after that, luckily.

You found out that you and Tommy had a lot in common which was surprising in itself. You both were mostly emotionally detached but were willing to cross any line if it meant saving your family, you both liked to read though Tommy was secretive about it for reasons you still didn't know, and nothing could surpass the love you had for horses, those strong yet gentle beasts were the only faithful friend you had… except for each other.

While your thoughts started to roam in dangerous territory, you were still unsure of Tommy's feelings on the matter. You have heard that the man was ruthless and incapable of feeling affection but you saw a side of him that was hidden from the world, his gentle and loving sight, his respectful side… you were certain that what you felt for him may not be love but it wasn't anything less. You decided to ignore this newfound feeling, unsure of what he felt.

The sudden knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts. "What-?" You were confused about finding a drunk Tommy Shelby on your doorstep. "(Y/N) How are you my angel?" He continued to stare at you making you realise that this was an actual question and not a rhetorical one. "I - uhh - I am fine Tommy. What are you doing here at midnight?" You pulled him inside.

The sight of a drunk Tommy Shelby lying on your cheap broken sofa with the bottle of Irish whiskey clasped in his hand was unusually tempting and soft, as he gazed up at you with his bright blue eyes.

"Charlie loves you (Y/N). Did you know he was calling for you earlier today?" He whispered and gulped the remaining of the whiskey immediately after.

"No Tommy. I am sorry. I was busy today." Your heart broke hearing about the little boy calling for you and not finding you by his side. "Yeah. Being a lifesaver is not easy, eh?" He said rhetorically this time, placing his hands on your waist. The cool of his hands seeping through the thin material of your nightgown.

"I asked him to be a well-behaved little boy and I'll bring you to him… maybe permanently what say?"

You gasped hearing his words, not knowing what he was suggesting. "Tommy… you're drunk. We'll talk about it in the morning if you still remember what you said." You pushed him to your bedroom, tucking him in like you'd do for Charlie. taking the spare pillow and blanket, you laid down on the sofa.

• • •

"You alright Mr Shelby?" You asked giving him a painkiller. He looked at you with wide eyes, just like Charlie would… The resemblance between them always melted your heart.

He cleared his throat before addressing you. "(Y/N) about last night - uhh - I meant what - what I said." You gawked at him, The Tommy Shelby stuttering in front of you. You were definitely special to him.

"I - you mean - what exactly did you mean by 'permanently' last night?" Your cheeks reddened, little hair on your neck stood as you awaited his answer.

"I didn't plan for this to happen so spontaneously but we gotta do what we gotta do right?" He paused and you held your breath for his next words. "I'm not good with words so beware. Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) I am grateful for your help in more than one of my life problems. My son loves you and calls out for you all the time, I adore you and your strength. Will you do the honour of making me the luckiest man in Birmingham by marrying me?" Tommy pulled out a small jewellery box from his coat pocket and held before you a simple but elegant and beautiful princess-cut diamond ring.

You sobbed. "Is that even a question?" You nodded, unable to speak as he placed the ring on your finger. You jumped up, unable to control your excitement and hugged him with all your might. And for the first time in many years, Tommy Shelby was finally feeling peace. He felt a wave of hope… for himself and your future together.

• • •

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #fanfic #𝐣 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

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pherelesytsia · 2 years

Text

I forgave him,

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Pregnant/Reader

Summary: Finding out Thomas has been secretly seeing Grace, Y/N leaves with Charlie.

Warning: Pregnancy, fear, anxiety, Angst, fluff, guns, death

Word Count: 4.1k

a/n: Requests are open.

Part One Part Two Part Three

Branches, twisted and turned, tried to reach for the grey heavens and the birds were chanting a delicate serenade. The sun escaped the oblong clouds, travelling across meadows and fields in the hues of spring. The day was waning slowly and colours faded, peaceful and tranquil and the early twinkling stars were scarcely visible.

Silence reigned in the mansion, and raucous laughter broke the pleasant calmness. Softly, the gramophone played in the background, but Y/N paid no attention to the loving words the singer sang in the name of love. Lovingly, she stroked the curve of her stomach. The gentle smile gracing her lips grew as her heart melted like gold in the heat of flames, catching sight of Charlie walking slowly towards her with a cup in his hands. He was biting his tongue, trying to hold the cup cautiously, fearing he would spill the liquid.

"Here's your tea, mom. I didn't need help. I did it all by myself." Charlie pronounced proudly.

Grinning, the young boy set the dotted cup down on the corner of the dark wooden table next to the open book with a bronzed binding.

"Thank you, Charlie, but you don’t have to take care of me. It is no longer necessary. I can stand and I don't have to lie all day on the sofa or in bed. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, we are healthy and fine.", "But I have to look after you. I promised it, didn't I?" Charlie interjected.

Shock lingered in his voice as his hand rested on his mother’s stomach.

“I know you promised it, Charlie, but you should play with your toys and not be my nurse,” Y/N murmured.

Charlie did not respond, focusing, hopeful his sister would touch his hand with her foot in a moment. He breathed silent promises of playing together when she would be old enough, but Y/N couldn’t understand a word. Again, biting his tongue, he caressed her abdomen. Sorrowfully, he noticed his sister was asleep again. Y/N stroked his hair and glanced up. Footsteps echoed through the house and Y/N greeted Ada carrying a tray with various plates of fruit and cookies towards the table next to the sofa. Smiling, Ada glanced at the two, at mother and son, and realised she had never seen so much love in a child's eyes. She settled the tray down, but Charlie paid no attention to the sweets and fruits.

"How are you Y/N?", "Charlie, I thank you for the tea but you can take the rest of the day off, go to your room or go to John's or Arthur's, they will surely be pleased if you visit them upstairs," Y/N said.

Confused, the boy looked up, but then after a minute of thinking, he nodded and with quick steps left the women and ran up the stairs in great haste.

"He's a good boy," Ada said looking after the boy.

No longer focusing on Charlie the young woman settled down on the sofa next to Y/N and rested her hand on her leg not covered by the blanket.

"Yes, he is. Men should learn from him.” Y/N answered.

Greyed memories returned and Ada leaned back and took a bite from the apple. A grey shadow crept across her face and a bitter taste spread in her mouth, nevertheless she did not spit the fruit out, aware of the fact the apple was not bitter.

“I will never forget how he spoke to Thomas, we heard it all and I was shocked.” Ada continued.

Y/N nodded with a grave expression but pain didn’t paint her features kissed by the gleam of light.

“Charlie has forgiven his father and he is already looking forward to his sibling. He talks about her all the time and he's even thought about names. I think I've heard every name imaginable from Anna to Sophia but he wants his sister to be called Charlotte because Charles and Charlotte sound very similar." Y/N laughed.

Shadows shaped into terrifying faces faded away, banished by the hushed laughter.

"And what do you think? Are you sure it's a girl?" Ada asked.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, unsure yet sure it couldn’t be a body, felt it in every fibre of her body, remembered clearly the symptoms she had during her first pregnancy. The smell of cigarettes used to upset her stomach, disliked the taste of eggs and the flavour of tea, but this time she didn't mind any of those things. And Y/N vaguely recalled how Thomas had ceased to smoke in her presence.

"I think you can never be sure, Charlie wishes a sister, but I don’t care if it’s a body or a girl, I´ll love the child anyway,” Y/N reported continuing to caress her stomach.

"Everything is fine between you two?", "I trust Thomas. He is my husband. The letters continue but he doesn’t open them, burns every one of them. And when he meets new partners, he takes John or Arthur with him." Y/N reported.

Ada nodded understandingly, gladdened no anger nor hatred was dwelling in the heart of her dear friend. Ada gazed at the ground, blaming herself for what had happened and then she tried to disguise her emotions but Y/N noticed. She placed her hand on Ada's and instantly the eyes met.

"You don't have to worry Ada, really, everything is alright. The child and I are fine. Arthur called the doctor because I fainted, the child is healthy. Charlie, he's like a nurse. You should have seen him this morning." Y/N joked.

Laughing, Y/N placed her hand on her chest, feeling tears trying to blur her vision as she remembered the early hours of the morning when she opened her eyes and saw Charlie sitting on the edge of the bed with a pancake on a plate, waiting for the moment when his mother would finally wake up from deep slumber. At first glance, Y/N thought he was wearing a white T-shirt, but then quickly realised the boy was covered in flour and batter. Ada chirped in, had heard everything.

"Arthur told me the kitchen mirrored a battlefield, worse than a crime scene. It took him almost two hours to clean it up.”, "But the pancakes were very delicious and Tommy preferred to avoid the kitchen and left rather hurriedly, allegedly needed to solve a problem in town." Y/N added grinning.

"Where is Thomas anyway?", "Upstairs in his office. He works from home now and leaves rarely the house except today." Y/N said in reply.

With her outstretched hand, Y/N pointed up the stairs and Ada nodded.

"Thomas refuses to leave the house, cooked for me and calls the doctor if I show any signs of discomfort. Charlie and his father won't let me out of the sight and he doesn't want to sleep in his bedroom anymore.” Y/N said.

“Thomas or Charlie?” Ada laughed with a raised brow.

She knew the answer yet she asked.

"Be glad, I don't know any man who would behave like this.”, "I know and you can't imagine how grateful I am but I can assure you that some days it can be very exhausting. Yesterday I wanted to eat a piece of the chocolate cake and you can't imagine how long it took to convince Thomas to let me eat it. Also, we have small arguments about if I can walk, he wants to carry me around the house even if I'm perfectly capable of walking and don't have to lie in bed all day," Y/N said.

Ada laughed, imagined her brother carrying his wife around the house and forbidding her to consume her favourite cake.

“I love him dearly and I am grateful for his endless support yet sometimes it is very exhausting.” Y/N clarified.

"Speak of the devil," Ada said low.

The stairs creaked, announcing his arrival. Eyes fixed on the stairs, and witnessed Thomas dressed in a black suit. The dark tie was loose around his neck and the pair of round glasses rested on his nose. Ada saw the pride in his eyes gliding around the room and witnessed the relief spreading across his face as he saw his wife resting on the sofa under a fluffy blanket, as promised. The buttons of his suit jacket were undone and the weapon he usually tried to hide from the prying eyes of enemies reflected the light of the lamps. A smile adorned his face. It was honest.

"You have finished your work?" Y/N asked, and Thomas nodded.

A mischievous grin spread on his lips and immediately Y/N knew what Thomas wanted to say, reading his eyes like an open book.

"I can go again if you like. I'm sorry I want to spend more time with my wife." Thomas said what Y/N was thinking.

"But maybe your wife doesn't want to keep you from your work, because she knows how much her husband loves his work," Y/N said.

Confused, Ada looked up, heard the laughter and thought for a moment someone else was laughing, but as her eyes travelled around the room, she saw it was Thomas who was laughing in delight.

Swiftly, Thomas descended the stairs, went to his wife resting on the sofa, greeted his sister but paid her no further attention but then he stopped, fixed his gaze over his shoulder and saw Charlie walking down the stairs with quick steps and every time Thomas caught sight of his son his heart ached. The deep wounds were not healed, aching terribly if memories returned, still remembering the words Charlie had spoken in a terrible rage, unspeakable hatred, trying to banish his father, but the clouds heralding a storm were gone. Charlie no longer despised his father, could not, but he was cautious, fearful for his mother and unborn sister. With quickening steps, Charlie ran past his father and went towards the table and grabbed one of the many biscuits Ada had brought and nibbled on it with a joyful smile. His eyes rested on the half-full dotted cup, and sat down as he realised, he didn't need to make tea for his mother.

"Can you read me a story today?" Charlie asked.

His heart ached, and Tomas hoped Charlie was addressing him. The man faced his son. He feared Charlie was talking to someone else, but he realised he was speaking to him.

"Of course, Charlie. I would love to. I've finished my work for today and tomorrow I have a day off. If you like, we can play the board game you got for your birthday." said Thomas and the wounds healed.

Charlie beamed and nodded hastily, wanting to lie down in his bed and quickly fall asleep and quickly get up again when the sun kissed the end of the world.

"It is late. I'll be on my way, have a good evening." "Don't you want to stay? It's getting late and the roads are dangerous by night." huffed Y/N, but Ada shook her head with a grin on her lips.

"Shelby-blood runs through my veins. The night fears us and you should know. You live among us." joked Ada as she arose.

"You're right about that and my lovely child lets me know every day when I want to sleep. When I close my eyes, she plays soccer.", "Is she troublesome again? Do you want me to talk to her? I already told her yesterday to stop," Charlie huffed.

His eyes widened, was shocked, couldn’t believe what he was hearing, was sure after yesterday's conversation his sister wouldn't dare to draw attention to herself with her hands and feet. Charlie jumped to his feet and stormed in great haste towards his aunt, past her, and looked down at his mother, trying to suppress a laugh like the other adults.

"Do you want me to talk to her? She is my sister and will surely listen to me or should dad speak to her? She will listen to him. Everybody listens when dad talks," Charlie pointed at his father.

"Charlie, you don't have to worry and you don't have to be angry with your sister, she probably can't hear you at all and if she does, she is far too small to understand you, you don't have to be upset," Y/N interjected in a loving tone, trying to sound as serious as possible.

Charlie nodded and pointed with his gaze he would like to sit down and Y/N placed her right hand on the free spot at her side, and thanking, Charlie settled down at his mother's side. Ada grinned, glad she was still there and looking forward to telling the others about the conversation between Charlie and his unborn sibling.

"I wish you a good night. I'll be on my way,", "I'll walk you out, Ada." Thomas interjected.

Ada nodded, knowing she wouldn't shake him off.

“Stay Y/N, I know how you feel and believe me soon you won't be able to get up.", "It won't be that bad and when I was expecting Charlie, I was still running around the garden tending the plants the day he was born." quipped Y/N.

Ada rose from the couch and headed to Y/N.

"But the offer still stands. You can stay here, you can have a glass of wine and we can chat.", "I'm expected, but thank you Y/N. Have a good evening and tomorrow I will come around by noon, I have a surprise for you." Ada whispered and hugged Y/N.

She blew a fleeting kiss on Y/N´s cheek, said goodbye to Charlie as she was ruffling his hair, and then turned to her brother. For a brief moment, Y/N looked after the siblings, but then she leaned back and rested her hand on Charlie's.

"Can I stay with you tonight? I don't want to sleep alone and I'm sure my sister would love to hear a story. I know her." breathed Charlie.

Y/N's hand gently stroked his hair, and brushed it to one side as she gazed into the distance, pretending to think intensely about it but Charlie knew the answer, knew his mother, knew she would always allow him to sleep at her side in the bed.

"Of course, but I hope you know that the day when your sister is born you will have to sleep in your room again, the bed will be too small for all of us," Y/N answered.

"That's no problem. I will take my mattress and sleep on the floor on your side. I will help you and not go to school. I don't have a problem with that." Charlie interjected optimistically, eliciting a laugh from his mother.

Cold filled the house, but swiftly the coldness faded away. Thomas smiled, turned his attention to the most important people in his life, and he was longing for the moment when he would find himself at their side again and forget the darkness.

"I have to go upstairs, I'll be with you in a minute and if you want, I can read you a story after Charlie.”, "Okay, but my sister would like to hear a story too. We're all going to sleep in the same bed tonight," informed Charlie with a grin.

Thomas did nothing, did not complain.

"Of course, give me ten minutes,” spoke Thomas and Charlie nodded happily, feared his father's reaction.

The tall man disappeared, took two steps at a time and walked up the stairs and entered his office.

"Can we play in the garden tomorrow? Would you like something to eat? There are still some pancakes in the kitchen. Did you like them? Can I make you eggs?" Charlie asked delightedly.

Her eyes widened and immediately Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, forbidding him to depart, to leave, to create a field of destruction in the kitchen and hid Charlie under the fluffy blanket in the hues of the forest.

"Thank you, Charlie, you are too kind and I can't tell you how grateful I am for the way you help me, but everything is fine. I am not hungry, and the pancakes you made were delicious but I am not hungry.” Y/N answered calmly.

Charlie tried to reply, but not a word escaped his lips. His head shot up, looked in the distance, and jumped.

"I'll open the door, it's probably Ada. She forgot something. Stay here, I'll take care of it, mom. I am a big boy now." Charlie assured his mother.

Before Y/N could reply, Charlie was on his feet and smiling Y/N greeted her husband descending the stairs.

Gazes collided, crashing waves, and Y/N lost herself in his loving gaze.

The wounds had healed and there was no more hatred, no anger, nor disgust. Y/N longed to be near her husband and one glance was enough for Thomas to know his wife wished to find herself in his embrace. The wounds were tended and healed with ointments, love, and adoration. Thomas had taken off the suit jacket and the button-down was gone and the shirt allowed to witness his tattoos visible through the gauzy material covered by dark brown suspenders. His hair was unkempt, letting her know he had run his fingers through his dark hair several times, but no traces of tiredness adorned his striking features.

"Have you finished your work? Is everything all right?" Y/N enquired.

"Yes, Ada reminded me of something, you don't have to worry," exclaimed Thomas.

Abruptly Thomas stopped, came to a halt. His lips formed into words, but Y/N didn’t understand a single syllable. His eyes became lifeless, pale as the moon, and bloodcurdling fear spread through every fibre of her body. Hectically, Y/N searched for the cause of the terror but she failed and feared for his wellbeing, but no blood oozed and no wounds tore open. Protectively Y/N placed her hands on her stomach, a reflex she could not control. Fear blinded her mind. Pain spread in her heart. A question Thomas could not hear crossed her lips, but his gaze was fixed on the opening door. Y/N had seen anger and hate, anguish and terror in his gaze, but for the first time, Y/N saw the purest form of fear and hate in his eyes.

"Go, stay, hide," Thomas said harshly, forbidding his wife to take a step.

Tears veiled her eyes and did exactly what he commanded in the tone of a king. Steps echoed. Heels clicked.

"Grace let go of my son, he has nothing to do with this." his voice was darker than the night, dangerous as the deepest depths of the ocean.

Y/N rose, grew taller. Fear faded faster than the sun on a stormy day. Hatred flooded her body. The taste of copper spread through her mouth, but no sound of pain escaped her lips. Y/N balled her hands into fists and searched for a gun. A burst of witch-like laughter swept through the mansion, but Y/N did not flinch.

Silver glittered cold and lifeless. The woman in the long coat escaped the shadow, evil-eyed and wicked-faced.

There was no faintness in her glance. Like a wave, Y/N rushed, protecting her stomach, thinking for a brief moment about the commands of her husband, but Y/N could not hide. Her heart broke into a gazillion pieces. Tears veiled his gaze. Words overcame Charlie, stammered in fear, and even though they were spoken as softly as the whisper of the wind, Y/N heard all of them.

The polished gun was at his head. Long nail clawed deep into his T-shirt, tearing his skin, but Charlie stayed brave, but when he saw the expression in his father's eyes, he felt fear. Charlie cursed, talked in the tongue of sailors and tried to free himself, but he wasn’t strong enough and stumbled forward. A terrible grin spread across her face, touched by the amber light of the lamps, knowing exactly the woman who had taken her place, stole her life must be in her home, her mansion.

"Grace, we have nothing more to say to each other. I have told you all." Thomas spoke as emotionless as possible.

The mask of confidence shrouded his features, but his eyes betrayed him. A storm raged them but no thunder sounded, roaring like a lion across the land.

"I don't think you understand. You are the one who should keep his mouth shut. I have come to take what is mine, what has always been mine." her voice dripped with hatred.

Grace entered the house and Thomas wanted to chase Y/N away, saw out of the corner of his eye how she came nearer but the harsh words did not cross his lips, knew he couldn’t chase her away.

"And for that, you have to hold a gun to my son's head?" pronounced Y/N, not fearing the mad woman.

"If it isn't the woman who took my life away. This is my house, my dress, my family and my children." Grace sneered.

Dark, poisonous venom dripped from her lips. She was shaking violently, but Y/N stayed strong. Piercing eyes fell on her stomach nothing could cover, not even a shirt worn by a man.

“This is all mine.”, “Then take it, take all of it, but give me my son. I don’t need the money nor the house. It is something you can replace, nothing of importance. I will leave and you can take my place, but give me my son back.” Y/N spoke in a voice unlike her.

The world was silent, dark and remote. The ticking of the clock stopped. A gunshot echoed again. Arms wrapped around Y/N, pressing her tightly against a solid body, shielding his wife, and a boy's voice broke the silence. The ground was soft. A scream left her sore throat. Her eyes widened in horror, unable to shield her stomach, to protect the unborn child. Y/N tried to break free from her husband's grip. Her eyes snapped open, looked up and caught sight of her husband's eyes flooded with fear. A prayer escaped her lips. Tears failed to take his vision. His lips formed words, but Y/N heard nothing. An awful ringing echoed. His hands slid over her body, feeling the unevenness on her skin, searching for blood, for deep wounds, but he found nothing.

Tumult broke free. Arthur and John with raised guns stormed down the hall, expecting the worst, but then they saw Ada and then the smoke rising from the gun and then Grace lying lifeless on the floor. A pile of gloom spread under her body. Guns no longer reflected the golden light, saw Charlie in the arms of Ada, forcing him not to look at what had happened, but the image had already burned into his mind like fire. He clawed his fingers into the rough material and shielded his eyes, hoping it was a nightmare. His feet didn't move, he kept his eyes shut, wanted to find himself in his father's embrace, but couldn't walk and hugged his aunt.

Thomas cupped her cheeks, forcing her delicately to look up. Glances met and life returned. Y/N did not fight back, was lost in the deep ocean and discovered hidden treasures. He smiled weakly. Thomas did not know how much time had passed, but it seemed like an eternity. Soothing words escaped Thomas, telling his wife everything was alright and he breathed words of adoration as the tears ceased to stream and the raging river dried. Thomas pressed his wife close to his body. The ring of pure gold on his finger glowed with light, similar to the one Y/N was wearing. Thomas breathed a tender kiss on her lips, kissing the dried salty stream up and down and stopped at her lips, sealing the promise he had whispered. Carefully Y/N placed her palm on her husband's chest, right above his heart, the one thing Grace could never possess, claim as hers, even if she were to take her place.

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hb-writes · 2 years

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Bloody Rotten

**imagine that cigarette in the gif is a piece of toast.

Summary: It’s 1925ish (???) in the Little Lady Blinderverse. Clara’s feeling bloody rotten, but thankfully her brother arrives home just in time to look after her.

Request (from Dancerlittle over on ao3): If you’re taking requests, I’d love to see Clara sick and Tommy taking care of her (not sure if you’ve written this yet!) - I decided to use this request with the parental prompt 31: "When was the last time you ate something?”

Characters: Tommy Shelby and Clara Shelby w/ a bit of Frances.

Content Warnings: Clara’s got a flu/ stomach bug so there’s pretty open talk about not eating, not sleeping, vomiting, and feeling bloody rotten.

Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there. Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

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—

Frances took her boss's cap and briefcase as the pair of them stood in the foyer, enduring the chilliness left by the brief opening and closing of the front door.

"There's a pile of correspondence on your desk, Mr. Shelby."

He was several hours late in arriving, but the maid didn’t pass comment, and if she passed judgment, Tommy didn’t pick up on it—a rather pleasant and rare thing, if Tommy thought about it—to be welcomed home without complaint and admonishment.

"And the new chef started on Tuesday," Frances added, ignoring the icy bite that clung to the fabric of her uniform.

"Yeah?” Tommy asked. “How is he? No burnt toast, I hope."

"No, sir.” Frances gave a small smile. “No burnt toast, though he hasn't had much of an opportunity to cook for anyone but the staff since arriving."

Tommy waited for her to expand upon her statement, not offering commentary or prompting, simply willing her to continue. Frances knew her employer well-enough and quickly obliged.

"Charles is coming back to himself, but your sister is now poorly," Frances offered, failing to hide the concern that crept into her voice. "She's not kept anything down for three days, Mr. Shelby. She refused to even try for lunch and dinner today."

Tommy shrugged out of his coat, allowing Frances to take that as well as his gaze traveled up the staircase where his sister likely was. He had expected to find his sister there waiting for him, ready to give him an earful for his lateness, for missing Friday night dinner with her and Charles. Clara was prone to that sort of thing, which was why he was surprised to find Frances had waited up to greet him instead.

Tommy supposed he hadn’t missed much of a dinner after all though. It was better that he’d stayed in London attending to business.

“She’s asleep now?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t think so, sir, but she is in her room,” Frances answered. “She has spent most of her time there. She tried going to school and the shop, but I insisted she stay home and rest." Frances frowned. "She says she can't sleep, sir. And she won't eat, but Chef made up a tray for her anyway. I was just about to take it up.”

Frances nodded towards the tray balancing on the sideboard, a small assortment of mild foods, tea, and water set out.

Tommy nodded. "I'll take it up," he said. "Thank you, Frances.”

He collected the tray and moved to the stairs, part of him wondering how the woman had managed to garner even a smidgen of his sister’s compliance in such a state. Clara could be a notoriously difficult patient—she always had been, something which had only grown worse with age—and even he had trouble getting her to listen to reason sometimes.

Tommy could see from the stairs that the door to Clara's bedroom was pulled tightly shut. He didn't bother knocking before he eased it open to find his sister curled under the covers, her sniffling audible from the threshold.

"I'm not hungry, Frances," she said, her tone both sharp and pitiful in the same measure. "Just leave it," she ordered, giving her assumed visitor no room for discussion on the subject.

Tommy nearly snorted at Clara’s outright sullenness towards the maid she’d grown a certain affection toward since Mary’s departure. Frances had alluded that Clara hadn’t been easy, but if this was how his sister had been acting the last few days—not that he'd be surprised if that was the case—Tommy thought Frances deserved more than his thanks. She'd been gracious with him just now—she usually was—but after dealing with two sick, cantankerous children, Tommy figured he was owing the woman a few extra days off, perhaps, or some extra pay.

"Not hungry and you haven't eaten in three days?" Tommy prompted.

Clara slowly lifted her head from her pillow to look at him, a jolt of shock running through her at hearing her brother’s voice.

Up until then, Clara hadn’t been quite sure what day was what—things had sort of muddled together, especially once she started refusing meals, but Tommy’s presence reminded her that it must be Friday and judging by the quiet of the house, it was late. And if it was late, he’d broken a promise because he’d missed dinner.

Clara scowled after the shock of her brother’s sudden presence passed. She couldn't maintain it for more than a few seconds though, thoroughly tired by the little effort extended to lift her head. She settled her head back against the pillow, wiping at the half-dried tears on her cheeks as she hiked the blankets over her shoulder.

"Leave me alone."

Tommy walked across the room, settling the tray on her bedside table and ignoring her orders as he watched her. "Has the doctor been to see you?"

Clara didn't answer and something in her silence told Tommy that the possibility of calling in the doctor had been Frances's bargaining chip in gaining the girl's compliance. If Clara didn't consent to stay home and rest, Frances would call the doctor in. He couldn’t imagine Clara had liked that ultimatum very much. He imagined she had put up a fight, but Frances had persevered.

And it seemed that the tactic had worked—it had at least gotten Clara to stay in bed. Tommy had a feeling it was all for naught though if she wasn't getting any better. He couldn’t imagine this was what his sister looked like on the road to recovery. He couldn’t imagine this was better. She looked terrible and if there wasn’t improvement soon, they’d have to call the doctor whether she complied with her at-home care or not.

“You’re not sleeping and you’re not eating,” Tommy said. “We’ll need to—”

"When was the last time you ate something?” she mumbled, a bit of fire dancing in her tired tone though she didn’t lift her head from the pillow.

Tommy snorted. Her snark was comforting, reassuring that things weren’t too far gone to be taken care of with a little push. "It’s not me I’m worried about, Clara.”

Those words brought Clara to the crest of her emotions, the wave of it swelling within her because though she’d been resistant to Frances’s display of concern, her brother admitting it allowed Clara to admit that she was worried, too. There was part of her wondering if she was ever going to start feeling better, if she’d ever be able to get back to the business of eating and sleeping and carrying on, or if she’d be confined to this bed, sore and tired and cranky til the end of her days.

It was starting to feel that way. Clara was starving, more hungry than she’d been in her entire life. The pains in her stomach came and went now, sometimes overshadowed by the soreness of her body on account of all the heaving she’d done, but there was a constant emptiness in her she couldn’t escape, a constant lack of energy and will. But even if she was hungry—and terribly thirsty, to boot—Clara was far too afraid to try again. She hadn’t successfully kept anything down for days and she didn’t know she could handle that particular exertion. Not now.

“Clara, you need to—”

"Tommy, I can't,” she interrupted, already knowing what he intended to say. Frances had said it over and over. Miss, you need to eat. Miss, you need to sleep.

Clara knew and somehow she couldn’t. Or maybe she simply wouldn’t. She hadn't tried anything except a few sips of water for the past day, at least. Her body had been hurt and achy from the cold, and then once all the heaving started, she just couldn't take it anymore. Clara didn’t know what would happen if she tried.

"You've got to keep something down," Tommy said. "And you need some rest."

“Leave me alone, then,” Clara’s voice seemed so small as it reached her brother’s ears. The bite had gone though she issued the same demands.

Clara curled up in the blankets, pulling them over her head as Tommy lowered himself to sit on the edge of her mattress.

"Clara."

"I don’t feel good."

"I know you don't," Tommy said, reaching out to rest his hand on her over the covers. "Come here, Clara. Come on. Sit up."

Clara didn't move from her spot and Tommy decided on waiting out her stubbornness. This routine was familiar to him. She’d relent sooner or later. He figured she was just trying to outlast him. She was just being grumpy because she was tired and hungry and sick and—

Tommy thought all that, but then he heard Clara’s sniffling sound once again as her breathing picked up, the lump under the blankets beginning to shake.

"I don't want to be sick anymore, Tommy," she whined, her voice breaking on a sob. “I feel rotten.”

Tommy didn't waste his breath trying to convince his sister to comply with his request, that she let him in and allow herself to be comforted and cared for. He didn't wait, didn’t even give Clara the option of ignoring him. Tommy pulled her up and shifted her into his arms, taking care as he rested her against him with her robe and blankets still wrapped around her.

"It hurts," Clara mumbled as she leaned into him.

A bit of crisp night air still clung to Tommy’s shirt even though he'd removed his jacket and Clara relished it, allowing the fabric to chill her fevered skin as he held her.

"I know, my girl. I know," Tommy said, soothing her as his hand rubbed circles on her back. "You feel bloody rotten, but it's alright. You're alright."

Clara wanted to believe that everything would be alright. She wanted to be comforted by Tommy’s words, but Clara didn't truly know that she was alright. Or that she ever would be again.

Sure, her nephew had recovered from his bout of sickness in less than a week, but it hadn't been like this for him. His symptoms had been mild comparatively. Charles had had an appetite all the way through. He'd had no trouble keeping food down. He’d had no trouble sleeping.

Charles had been sick, but he hadn't been sick sick.

And the little boy certainly hadn’t had whatever illness Clara had earned for herself now.

But then again, Charles had willingly submitted to being cared for. He'd reveled in extra bedtime stories and endless servings of warm, brothy soup allowed to be consumed in his bed. He'd loved being doted on and snuggled up with his stuffed animals and his auntie.

Frances had warned Clara to keep away from her nephew's barking cough while he recovered. Clara hadn't listened to a single piece of Frances's advice.

Of course, she hadn't.

Then, once she’d started feeling feverish and sore in the throat, Frances had suggested Clara rest. She'd told her to take the day, to stay in bed.

Naturally, Clara hadn't listened to that advice either. She'd gone in to school and then to the office before coming back to Arrow House that night nearly dead on her feet.

And even then, Clara had only been enticed to go to her bed because Frances had gotten strategic in her negotiations, offering to hold off on calls to family members and doctors only on the condition that Clara stay in bed and try to rest.

Clara had been in bed ever since, but only by virtue of the fact that she’d needed bedrest. The damage was already done. She'd already pushed too hard and for too long. An illness that could've passed her over in a few days had taken root well within her and she’d been too tired, sore, and weak to do anything except stay in bed.

Tommy saw proof of that fact as Clara continued to cling to him, her breaths slowing as she settled. Half under the covers, he spotted the pile of his sister’s books—school texts and office ledgers and papers from the office—all of it a bit of evidence that even now, even with her feeling as rotten as she seemed to, Clara still wasn't taking care of herself.

And Frances's negotiations hadn't worked, not entirely. Tommy recognized they were past negotiations now. They were at a turning point in her illness and the handling of it. She wasn't eating or drinking. She wasn't sleeping. Tommy could feel the heat radiating off of his sister through the layers of fabric, Clara's body warm with a dangerous fever that reminded him of instances of childhood illnesses he'd rather forget. If she didn't make a turn soon, she'd be in trouble.

“Alright, Clara,” he said, as if with just two words he was putting an end to his sister’s suffering. “Frances sent up a tray. You need to eat and then it’s time for bed.”

Clara shook her head against him, settling herself more firmly in Tommy’s hold, somehow endeavoring to make herself dead weight, unmovable.

“I’ll have to call Dr. Osborne then, eh?” he said. “Can’t imagine he’ll be happy to be making a house call at two in the morning because a girl’s too stubborn to do as she’s told.”

Clara whined in protest, but she didn’t fight Tommy when he loosened his hold. Either Clara didn’t have it in her to fight anymore or some part of her knew her brother was right. She needed to eat if she was going to get better. Some part of Clara even wanted Tommy to force her hand. Clara knew she hadn’t the courage or the will to do it for herself.

“Alright.” Tommy shifted away from his sister. He guided her back on the bed, sitting up against the pillows. “Now, you have your choices. Eat your dinner and rest or I’ll—”

“Tommy, please,” Clara said. “I’m not being stubborn, I’m just…I’m…”

Scared. The word rattled around painfully in Clara’s brain. She was scared. Part of her knew it was silly. Part of her knew she could pull through and be on the mend soon enough, but it would probably take her eating something…and drinking something, too.

Clara didn’t know if she could manage another bout of heaving over the basin. It already felt like every muscle in her body was strained, sore, and exhausted. The mere thought of going through that again rattled her nerves, scared her nearly as much as the notion of never getting better.

Tommy waited for Clara to come to the word. He waited for her to say it even though some part of him already knew.

Clara started again when Tommy showed no signs of letting her out of finishing her thought. “Tommy, what if…” She closed her eyes, wincing as she swallowed the painful lump in her sore throat. “What if I get sick again?”

“I’m right here, Clara.”

A wave of something new rushed over Clara then. Tommy had meant the words to be a comfort. In a way, they were—whatever happened, at the end of the day, Tommy would be there with her. All that was a comfort, but Clara felt suddenly embarrassed at her brother’s declaration, too. She very suddenly wanted him out and away from her room, from her sickness.

Clara had already broken down in a pitiful bout of tears. She’d already shamelessly sought the comfort of her brother’s arms like a child. Neither of those things had troubled her, but with the idea of her brother being there while she was sick…the idea of Tommy being present as she spilled the limited contents of her stomach brought a fresh heat into her already flushed cheeks.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Tommy said, seeming to read his sister’s mind without her having to say a word. “I’m sure it won’t be the last either.” Tommy didn’t bother to clarify if he was talking about him being there for her or her being sick in front of him. It didn’t seem to matter. His words were likely true on both accounts.

Clara shook her head, instantly regretting the movement as it rattled her brain. She pressed her palms to the sides of her head, willing the pain to ease as she mumbled. “Maybe just leave it, Tommy. I promise I’ll try—”

“No.” Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “No empty promises, eh? Those were your own words just this week. You demanded I be home to have dinner and now you’re trying to get out of it,” he said, his speech grand and inflated as if he was making some grand business proposition and not talking to his sick little sister. “No, Miss Shelby. I won’t be going anywhere until you have some dinner.

“Start with this.” Tommy took a mug from the tray and held it out for Clara. “Go on.”

Clara took a deep breath. The sharp pain in her head was starting to dull. She had thought about trying to talk Tommy out of it once again. She thought she could try from a different angle, perhaps, but then she thought better of it. Clara could recognize her brother’s resolve on the matter for what it was—adamant and unwavering.

Tommy had backed her into a corner. He was forcing her hand. And just as Tommy had seen the futility of fighting her on making a promise to be home for Friday dinner, Clara saw the futility in continuing to put up a fight and she took the mug of broth into her hand, savoring the radiating warmth that transferred to her fingers. Clara took a single sip of the liquid before pulling the mug from her lips.

“There,” Clara said, trying to hand the mug back to her brother.

Tommy refused to take the mug. “Have a little more.”

Clara lowered the mug, allowing it to rest on top of the blankets in her lap. “But you’re not having anything.”

“I’m not the one—”

“It’s not having dinner unless we’re both eating,” Clara argued.

Tommy shook his head, but sensed his sister’s sudden show of resolve, just as sturdy as his own had been.

“One sip and you’re already feeling better, eh?” Tommy chided as he took a triangle of toast from the tray. “Go on, then. We’ll eat, the both of us.”

“But you’re still not—”

Tommy took a bite of the toast, munching as he nodded his head toward the mug cradled in Clara’s lap. “There, I’ve eaten. Your turn.”

Clara slowly pulled the mug towards her lips. “Perhaps you should have some more—”

“Enough about my dinner,” Tommy warned.

“But—”

“You’re stalling, Clara.”

“I’m not,” Clara answered, though she was, at least a bit, and both of them knew as much.

“What is it you’re doing, then?” he asked.

“Having dinner with my brother?” she ventured, the corner of her mouth quirking just a bit. “He promised.”

Tommy shook his head at her. Whether it was the broth or Tommy’s company or something else entirely, his sister was clearly feeling a bit better if she was making comments like that. He retrieved the remaining bit of toast from the tray, holding it out as he pointed it at her.

“You’re spoiled bloody rotten, you know that, eh?”

Clara didn’t answer him, but Tommy didn’t mind. He wasn’t really expecting a response, and anyways, she was too busy holding the mug to her lips as she slowly sipped her dinner.

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#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #shelby!sister #shelby sister #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #frances #clara shelby #raise a glass to llb

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evita-shelby · 2 years

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Hi !

Ive been thinking about this for a while and i wantes to share ot with you 😊

What about a tommy who is the readers lizzie ?

Ok , let me explain this better , so what if the reader and tommy are sleeping together amd the reader is also with others because she cant have a man , how would tommy really feel ?

The reader can be gender neutral if you would like !

I just never seen tommy as " the other man" per se ....hes always " the one i want " kind of guy

Oohhh this is a good one 🤭

I guess its let's make Tommy feel like shit weekend.

Undeserving

Gif by @cm-edits

Tw: lots of cheating, refrences to sex, mentions of a miscarriage

Thomas Shelby was not the man you had wanted.

No, the man you had wanted had been killed at the front. August had been your everything and no man would ever compare to him.

You met Tommy in March 1922 when he was nursing a broken heart, you were nursing yours and a week later you were hoping he had pulled out.

He hadn’t and in April 1922, you married him before anyone found out that a Birmingham socialite had gotten pregnant by some new money gangster you met at your daddy’s office.

You close your eyes sometimes, imagine he or any man is your August. No one could ever replace him. Not Thomas, not that handsome driver Polly hired that looks like him, no one.

You don’t love him; you suppose you have developed something like it after twelve years of marriage.

He had been in love with a woman named Grace Burgess. He had told you so that night when you slapped him for calling you by her name when he came.

He cheated on you for the duration of her stay in London, so you fucked her husband to make things even the night you found out.

Nine months later you find out she had his bastard, a boy she had the audacity to name Thomas Michael Macmillan. She had written to him telling him so, but you had read those letters as Tommy played with baby Charles upstairs.

So, when he leaves the nursery, you tell him how you fucked Clive and that it felt as good as it was with him.

He looked like he had been slapped in the face, as if he had never dreamed that you would hurt him in such a way.

But he didn’t know you just as you didn’t know him.

He has women, you have men and sometimes his women to make it hurt. You’ve had Lizzie, May and even Jessie just to cause him pain.

It wasn’t his fault; you just didn’t love him or respect him enough to keep up the farce of happily monogamous couple outside of the public’s eye.

He hates it, but he can’t do anything about it. Tommy has told you so, on those nights he lets you in and you shut the door to the inner workings of your psyche.

You nearly die in 1925 and you feel relieved that the bastard you carried in your belly didn’t survive. Your lover, Angel, dies as well, but not because he was fucking you while your husband fucked the Russian Duchess. As far as anyone knows he died because Lizzie was in love with him, and Tommy doesn’t like to share his toys.

If only he knew who’s baby, he buried in the family cemetery.

He says he loves you and that when he used to fuck other women, he closed his eyes and pretended they are you. He is loyal to you now, and you hate it. It gnaws at your soul to know he’s changed because he wants you to love him as he loves you.

You have three more children, these you made sure they were his. You love them and he does too, but even then, you find that you cannot make feelings for him grow. You are fond of him, and you enjoy being with him, but he is not the man you wanted.

And you fear he will never be such man.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Mr. Shelby.” Mosley says as you overhear from the shadows.

And he is right, you don’t deserve Tommy.

So, you decide to let him go.

#tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x wife!reader #thomas shelby x wife!reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic

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irenethewoman · 7 months

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Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 21 - Christmas

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"Are you spending Christmas alone this year?" "Ada, you know, to solve the problem, you must ring the bell." I sighed. "They are still resentful of Tommy. Except for Michael, who is still working, they don't even want to see me." "But our little Ollie hasn't met his cousin yet, has he?" Ada gently rubbed Orlando's head. The little guy was looking up at us, bubbles coming out of his mouth. I bent down and wiped his mouth. Last Christmas Eve, I gave birth to our second child with Tommy, a boy, and named him Orlando. Tommy was a bit disappointed; he thought it would be a girl. But Charles and Carl were happy; they finally had a new playmate. "Danny… we are a family…" "I know." I kept my head down, not looking at Ada. I looked at our son and eventually swallowed the complaints that were on the tip of my tongue, just pulling out a smile. "We are family, dear." I stood by the window, watching Ada leave in the car. I knew there would be a family gathering at John's big house during Christmas, and I think my husband knows that too.

"Family" is a somewhat unfamiliar term to me. It sounds more stable than a spouse but colder than close relatives. In 1914, I fled London and was taken in by Polly, but until I returned to Birmingham in 1920, I always felt like a lone soul, never truly integrated into the Shelby family, even after Tommy and I fell in love—we were more like an ordinary couple with our own families.

"Family" now has their own little families. Before that, the Shelby family was a united force, unstoppable. But Ada has Carl, John and Esme developed feelings through marriage, Polly found Michael again, Arthur met Linda, and everything started to develop in unpredictable directions. I'm not asking them to dedicate their lives to the family without personal feelings. But they have their own calculations, considering their family interests, putting the Shelby family's interests behind.

Yet they demand Tommy to be unwavering.

I still remember the unreasonable demands of the Shelbys when I was injured from the gunshot—Tommy "should" come back. Things they couldn't do, they demanded from my little prince, forcing him to put his beloved wife and child in second place, a position that would continue to torment him with guilt and worry. I dare not imagine what kind of life Tommy would lead if I had slept forever after being shot.

"Family" may be a curse buried in the blood of the Shelby family, a debt that Tommy cannot escape in his lifetime.

After June last year, sometimes I wonder, if the Shelby family only had Tommy, he might have broken through the class barrier long ago, stood in Parliament like other MPs, looking righteous and glorious.

I lower my head.

Ada is now the bridge of communication between Tommy and the rest of the Shelby family, and I can't let him lose this sister because of my grievances.

I didn't say these things just now, and I won't say them to Tommy.

Never.

Tommy has been busy lately, coming home much later than before, and when he comes home, he locks himself in the study. If I didn't have confidence in Tommy and didn't "patrol" the house every day, I would suspect that Tommy had a third party hidden in the study.

I intercepted the maid who brought him wine. "Give it to me." "Please come in."

After getting Tommy's permission, I opened the door and placed the tray of wine on his desk. By the time he saw a hand different from usual, I had already walked behind him. I bent down, my gaze passing over him to look at the documents in his hand.

"Danny."

I heard him calling me, with a pampering and helpless tone. I casually responded.

He hugged my waist, stood up, and kissed my lips. "Caught you, a little cat running around." "Your mouth is dry." After a gentle kiss, I raised my hand to touch his lips. But he opened his mouth and took my fingertip into his mouth. "Pervert!" I glanced at him, pulled out my hand, and gave him the wine.

Tommy took the glass, raised his head, and drank it all at once. Then he continued to hug my waist.

"You've been busy lately. Is there a problem with the company?" "Almost suspected you were keeping a lover in the study." I smiled and avoided his kiss. "What's wrong? Is there a problem with the company?" "But I think you already have a plan?" My curiosity was aroused by the smile on his face.

"Come on, Tommy." I held Tommy's hand and coquettishly said.

He took advantage of it to hug me and stood up, leaning over to kiss me, with small, warm kisses falling on my skin, tickling.

Too ticklish, I couldn't help laughing, gently patting his shoulder, trying to make him stop this childish thing that only Charlie would do.

"It's time, Tommy. I haven't fed Ollie yet!" "You should feed me first, dear."

After the rain stopped, we sat face to face in the bathtub.

"Do you know Jessie Eden?" Tommy leaned against the other end of the bathtub as if sitting on a throne.

"I've heard of her." I thought for a moment, recalling the cute round face woman with an apple. "She's famous, a union leader. Last year, if I remember correctly, on Good Friday, she led other workers to the streets for more women's toilets."

"She's always causing trouble. She thinks the wages of the factory girls are too low."

I looked at my husband sitting on the opposite side with a calm smile, but his smile disappeared.

The Shelby Foundation has always been my responsibility. I know it's a way for Tommy to whitewash, to improve our image in the eyes of the public. Before Ollie was born, I visited the factories under my husband's name. But what I saw shocked me—some pregnant women had to sit in front of the machines.

I was pregnant with Ollie at that time, and I knew how difficult pregnancy could be. Even if Tommy wanted someone to take care of me 24 hours a day, he couldn't make up for the physical pain and discomfort.

My background and assets mean that I never need to work like those women. I just need to take care of Charlie at home, occasionally show my face in Birmingham like a mascot, and enjoy the careful care of the maids and the love from my husband and son. Those women, even when pregnant, had to run for the family's livelihood, and when they returned home, there might be countless chores waiting for them.

Whether it's for the future of the Shelby family or out of sympathy for those women, there are some things I must say.

"Tommy, no matter what, you can't lower their wages. Maintaining the status quo is the best."

"You know my job, dear. If we can win over the union, it will be a great help to us. We need to unite all the forces we can unite, Tommy."

"But I think you already have a plan."

My curiosity was aroused by the smile on his face.

"Come on, Tommy." I held Tommy's hand and coquettishly said.

He took advantage of it to hug me and stood up

, leaning over to kiss me, with small, warm kisses falling on my skin, tickling.

Too ticklish, I couldn't help laughing, gently patting his shoulder, trying to make him stop this childish thing that only Charlie would do.

"It's time, Tommy. I haven't fed Ollie yet!" "You should feed me first, dear."

After the rain stopped, we sat face to face in the bathtub.

"Do you know Jessie Eden?" Tommy leaned against the other end of the bathtub as if sitting on a throne.

"She's always causing trouble. She thinks the wages of the factory girls are too low."

I looked at my husband sitting on the opposite side with a calm smile, but his smile disappeared.

Whether it's for the future of the Shelby family or out of sympathy for those women, there are some things I must say.

"Tommy, no matter what, you can't lower their wages. Maintaining the status quo is the best."

"You know my job, dear. If we can win over the union, it will be a great help to us. We need to unite all the forces we can unite, and the union is the most critical one." I knew it wouldn't be so simple. I took a deep breath and looked at Tommy. "I understand your thoughts, but you also need to consider the interests of the Shelby family. If you hurt those women, not only will you lose support, but it may also cause conflicts within the family." "Jessie Eden is a thorn in my side, but I can't just eliminate her. The union has too much influence in Birmingham. We need a plan to control the situation and achieve our goals without causing too much trouble."

I nodded. "I will think about it, and I will help you find a way to deal with this matter properly."

Tommy's eyes softened as he looked at me. "Thank you, my love. I know I can always rely on you."

We finished our bath and got dressed, heading downstairs to join the family for dinner. As we walked hand in hand, I couldn't help but think about the challenges ahead. The world was changing, and the Shelby family needed to adapt. I would do my best to support Tommy, but I also had to ensure the well-being of our family.

As we entered the dining room, the atmosphere shifted. Ada and Michael were sitting at the table, discussing something in hushed tones. John and Esme seemed tense, exchanging glances. Arthur was unusually quiet, his eyes darting between Tommy and me.

I could sense the tension in the air, and I knew that the Shelby family was on the verge of a new chapter, one that would test our bonds and loyalties. The storm was brewing, and I had to navigate through it, not just as Tommy's wife, but as a Shelby with her own convictions.

The dinner table was filled with both the aroma of food and the unspoken weight of the challenges that lay ahead.

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic

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denimbex1986 · 10 months

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'When renowned screenwriter Steven Knight set about formulating what would become one of his best creations, the modern gangster classic television series Peaky Blinders, he had a very important choice to make. He already had his main character fully fleshed out: Thomas Shelby, an ambitious, emotionally shut off war veteran who conducts himself like he's already dead and living on borrowed time. Knight was deliberating between two very different actors when deciding who best had the skills to embody Shelby. One of these men was an icon of the Irish acting scene, able to be in almost any kind of film you can imagine. The other was an icon of the rough and tumble action film scene, equally capable of fighting off sharks and jump-kicking down doors. It was the matchup nobody could have foreseen, Cillian Murphy vs. Jason Statham.

A Text to Steven Knight Gave Cillian Murphy the Upper Hand Over Jason Statham

Knight has told the story that he was torn between going with either of these two masters of the brood and the grumbling voice. According to The Independent, he said that he "met them both in LA to talk about the role and opted for Jason...because physically in the room Jason is Jason." You have to imagine that what he means by this is that Statham is a very impressive physical specimen in person, and that his tough guy persona is not entirely an act. Knight followed up by mentioning how Murphy "isn't Tommy, obviously, but I was stupid enough not to understand that." In his defense, Murphy is an incredibly soft-spoken and gentle soul, leagues away from the calculating killer Knight was looking for.

Seemingly sensing a disturbance in the Force, Murphy decided to pull a true giga-Chad move to ensure he'd get the role. Knight said that one day he received a text from Murphy, and what did that text say? "Remember, I'm an actor." At that moment, Knight realized that Murphy "can transform himself. If you meet him in the street, he is a totally different human being." Knight was finally able to see past Murphy's introverted exterior and realize he had what it took to live up to the Peaky Blinders standard.

Jason Statham Is Best as a Likable Action Star

This is no shade whatsoever to Statham — who has his own certain set of skills he brings to the table — but he could not bring to Thomas Shelby what Murphy did. While it's true that Thomas is a ruthless man who's killed before and has it in him to kill again, he is above all else a politician at heart. He is strategic in his methods, completely closed off in his emotionality even to his own most beloved family members, and ruthless in who or what he will use as collateral in order to get what he wants. If ever there was a modern anti-hero of deeply questionable morality to rival the likes of Tony Soprano or Walter White, it's Thomas Shelby.

While Jason has played his fair share of guys who aren't afraid to kill people or do continuously insane things just to stay alive, he is almost always portrayed in a totally positive manner. He is the modern day equivalent of a Charles Bronson or a Steve McQueen, the likable gruff hero who is always up against meaner, more overtly evil enemies. Don't get it twisted — he's great in these roles, as his combination of street knowledge and his comfort with quips make him the rare action star that feels equally at home in both types of flicks. He can be both the hardened badass in Parker or Wrath of Man, but also be a more humorous and slapstick version of his persona in films like Spy or The Expendables.

There are two downsides to the image he's maintained. For one, there's a noted pressure for action stars to continue to do roles that keep their core fanbase happy. People like Jason Statham because they want to see him do Jason Statham-type roles, and taking a chance on a more outside-the-box character like Thomas could be seen as a risk for his career. Second, there's always an underpinning of likability to his characters — almost to a fault. No matter what he does, we always feel like the movie is approving of his actions, with rare exceptions. Even his most prominent villain role, Deckard Shaw in the Fast and Furious saga, had to become a full-fledged good guy at some point because audiences loved seeing him on-screen and interacting with the main cast so much. Audiences feel compelled to be on his side, regardless of the consequences.

Cillian Murphy Can Better Embrace the Small Scale

As Murphy himself professed, he is "an actor," which is an understatement if ever there was one. Cillian Murphy has steadily built a reputation for himself as one of the consummate actors of our time, slipping from super villain, to Irish freedom fighter, to space captain with an impeccable ease. Plus, despite Knight's hesitations over picturing Murphy as such a tough threat like Thomas, Murphy has actually had a great history of playing men of imposing force. Think of his terrorist Jackson Rippner holding Rachel McAdams hostage and surviving getting stabbed in the throat with a pen in Red Eye, or the steadily increasing violence and chaotic behavior of one of his earliest roles in Disco Pigs, or even the coke snorting, gun toting, walking red flag that is Tom in The Party. These may not be muscular bruiser types that can knock heads together with ease like Statham can in his sleep, but they are men who are all full of murderous drive, and know how to keep themselves composed and proper in various social circles, while also projecting a sense of constant calculation and the ability to hide true emotions from everyone in the room except the audience.

To make a long story short, Murphy can carry a scene in a smaller scale register than Statham can. If we see Murphy sit like a stone for an entire scene watching everyone else, we read this as him gathering knowledge, playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers. If Statham does the same, we expect him to find the right time to interrogate someone or get what he wants through sheer fisticuffs, or perhaps even find a way to witty banter his way out of the situation. While Statham can be a quite stern actor himself, his is more a barreling full force kind of focus, like a determined dog chasing a car. The ambiguous and slippery nature of Murphy's temperament is much more fitting for the kind of expert power player that Thomas Shelby winds up being.

Thomas Shelby’s Casting Came Down to a Matter of Fit Above All Else

None of this is to cast any aspersions on Statham's abilities as an actor, but instead to highlight that he simply wasn't as good of a fit as Murphy. Statham bringing a lot of charisma and physical threat to a starring role is great for a slice of pulpy fun like Safe, but not as fitting for a multi season character study of a broken man manipulating the world around him to do what he thinks is right, even if that means potentially turning against his own trusted allies. That kind of moral confusion and ping ponging of conflicting motivations and actions is much more suited to an actor like Murphy, as there's simultaneously no audience pressure on him to fulfill the role of a standard likable hero and more freedom for him and the writers to explore the darker potential of the character in a way that feels honest to the material. It's important to keep in mind that ultimately, it's not a matter of getting the biggest actor for the role, but the right actor. Cillian Murphy was the right man for the job, by order of the Peaky f***ing Blinders.'

#Cillian Murphy #Thomas Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Jason Statham #Disco Pigs #Steven Knight #Red Eye #Jackson Rippner #The Party #Rachel McAdams #Fast and Furious

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keerysfreckles · 2 months

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hi bae. requesting prompt 6 with charles, lando, and max 😘😘😘

obsessed — CL16 LN4 MV1

pairing: charles leclerc x reader, lando norris x reader, max verstappen x reader

prompt: denial. realization. obsession.

warnings: none!

a/n: credits to @bunnysrph for the post break!!

masterlist ! | 1k celebration prompts !

. . .♡ charles leclerc

denial. charles would never fall for his best friend. he couldn't. the second he caught the view of you laughing with your friend, your wide smile adorned with the crinkles by your eyes. he knew he was in deep, and he hated himself for it.

realization. after two and a half months of trying to deny his own feelings for you, he finally accepted it. he could barely keep his eyes off of you. while he brought you to races, he kept you near, just for an excuse to be close to you. carlos mentioned to the other ferrari driver how he has 'heart eyes' for you. as soon as carlos left the room, charles smiled to himself, knowing how much he really cared for you.

obsession. ever since charles confessed his feelings to you, you've been attached at the hip. you loved every second of it. he cared about you before, but it's only been amplified. he helps carries your things, spends extra time with you before you have to get out of bed, and cooks dinner with you (even though he messes up almost every meal). he talks about you whenever he can, and loves when you get brought up in interviews. he can't wait to tell you he loves you.

. . .♡ lando norris

denial. lando shut himself out when he first felt such strong feelings for you. he rarely responded to your texts, and didn't even pick up your calls. you had to rely on oscar to see how lando has been doing since he's been m.i.a. lando on the other hand, wondered how he could possibly fall for you. maybe it was just a silly crush, that would go away in a week or two. that's all he could hope it was.

realization. it's been three weeks since lando discovered his feelings for you, and no, they haven't gone away. he didn't mind though. the feeling was starting to become normal now. the longing glances towards you in the paddock and while out with friends didn't go unnoticed by his friends. he smiled to himself whenever he saw you, he couldn't help it. oscar noticed right away, and was quick to point it out to lando. "it's been two minutes and you haven't stopped staring at her." "shut up osc." (he says with a smile).

obsession. god lando was obsessed with you. he couldn't go five minutes without some form of physical contact. he'd have his hand around your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumb. he was always kissing your shoulder before he left the room. his hands never left your hair while you cuddled in his bed. you laughed when he told you his motivation to finish a race was to be able to hold you. his eyebrows furrowed when he told you he meant every word.

. . .♡ max verstappen

denial. despite his growing feelings for you, max kept you close. not once did he mention anything towards you, keeping your friendship the same as it was. he liked the calmness, and he knew if he spilled anything it would reck it. therefore he buried the feelings, denied them.

realization. after max was told he became the world champion, he only wanted to run up to one person. that person was you, and that was when he knew. he only wanted to hug you after the cool down lap, he only wanted to kiss you, and finally tell you how he's been feeling for weeks. his smile couldn't be wiped off his face as he was able to find you in the crowd and pull you into a hug.

obsession. max's favorite thing to do was kiss you. he wasn't picky either. he'd kiss your forehead, your cheek, your neck, your nose, and most importantly your lips. oh how he loved kissing your lips. he felt as though they were made for him. yours molded to his perfectly, and he wouldn't want it any other way.

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divinekangaroo · 3 months

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Loved that you gave Lizzie backstory in your fics. Do you reckon she will be alright with how S6 ended? I'm truly heartbroken for her and need closure

My opinion/headcanon on how she is after S6 depends on what we think happens after Tommy disappears. Like, if he simply disappeared, then he reappears at some point...I mean, I do imagine they divorce, this is not a marriage, but I also think Lizzie would probably find her feet? And that she and Tommy would be relatively amicable if not necessarily friends/in a relationship? She's got a significant position in the company now and there's every sign she would continue, especially if she becomes Charlie's primary parent figure.

But if we imagine Tommy's disappearance was reported as a death, and Lizzie hears and believes he died - and given the circumstances, even if Arthur tells Lizzie that Tommy was sick, it's still *clearly* a suicide - I think Lizzie takes it much, much harder. She was his carer in the end, in that broken way they had, and when she couldn't take his self-harm and the way it fell on her in the end, she left him - triggering his son to leave him - only to find out a few weeks, maybe months after her “abandonment” (1) of a man that she knew was unstable, had been suicidal, was taking extreme inexplicable murderous/sexual actions, was having seizures - that Tommy then committed suicide all on his own? I do not imagine she copes well *at all*, especially with how she'd adopted that job/role/mantle of his carer/calmer/safety line. (<- This second/worse scenario is more what I like to play in with fic, and I have bits and pieces of story planned. No matter her past pragmatism about the impact of his behaviours, this is the first time she walks away from Tommy ever — and he kills himself? Fffff the rage and hurt and despair and *rage*…and when he reappears, my goodness, times it all by 1000)

Generally, though, I don't know if the show ever intends to gives closure. I sort of like that? In some ways it feels a bit more realistic, yanno? Closure's a bit of a fabrication in the real world.

I do like to speculate that in either scenario, Lizzie takes all of Tommy's money and legal authority and businesses, and changes her name back to Stark; Charlie decides to go by Charles Burgess and reverts the name of the foundation to the Grace Burgess Foundation; Duke never changes his surname from his mother's surname; when Ada hits politics she of course goes by Ada Thorne. (And Linda returns herself and Billy to her maiden name, and Shelby Co has no more Shelbys on the board ->) So the name Shelby lives and dies with Tommy and Arthur alone. (And the gin distillery goes bankrupt probably)

So I suppose we could speculate Lizzie gets something out if it? CEO/Queen at last. But not closure…

((1) Note the self blame I talk about above is how I imagine Lizzie might react and isn’t a comment on suicide contributing factors)

#tw: suicide

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

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No! ~ Tommy Shelby Angst

Summary: The many times Tommy Shelby should have said no and the one time he wished Charlie wouldn't have.

Note: This my contribution for @sunsetmourners 300 follower celebration. Congratulations on three hundred followers and thank you for hosting this wonderful celebration!

I chose to write something based off of the poem Dann gibts nur eins! by Wolfgang Borchert. As it is a German poem, I've written an English Translation in case anyone's interested. I bent the rules a little bit - it is not based on my favourite poem, but one of the most important ones I've ever read. Even though, it is not very celebratory or light hearted, I hope you enjoy it all the same.

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes. Here is my Masterlist.

Warning: Mention of war and death. As I am an adult, all my writing I share is unless explicitly stated for adults (18/21+). Expect canon confirming tone. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Request: @sunsetmourners 300 follower celebration

Wordcount: 809 words

When he had been a boy tending the horses in his uncles stables and his best friend wanted to tell him what the Russians and the Austrians and the independence of nations meant for him he should have said no.

When the army had sent people to the city hall to explain the effort and the need, to talk of patriotic duty and the heroes they would become - to tell them why he should exchange brush for gun and hoof pick for shovel, he should have said no.

When his brothers had made their vow to join him in his futile quest to leave his broken heart behind, offering to leave their homes and cross the sea at his side, he should have said no.

When they told them that they would be most useful underground, digging tunnels and laying traps, catching the Germans off guard to save thousands of British lives, he should have said no.

When Churchill wanted to use his hands to force those of the Irish and the King and offered him export licenses in exchange, he should have said no.

When they had flaunted the money in front of him - 100 000 pounds, all for some weapons in some distant war in some place no one gave a fuck about, he should have said no.

When his factories were offered a government deal to manufacture arms instead of car parts, he should have said no.

When Churchill saw the use in him spying on Molesley, gathering information from the inside out, he should have said no.

When Molesley asked him join him at an event, to speak to electorates in this city, his city, who looked up to him, he should have said no.

When he was asked to facilitate contact between the British fascists and the American ones just so he could keep Churchill informed, he should have said no.

But he hadn’t. Not even once.

Money and greed, imagined necessities and momentary desires had blinded him- but had he any right to claim blindness?

Tommy knew the answer.

He had known and done it all the same, in spite of the countless warnings.

And now, Thomas Shelby couldn’t even look at them.

He could not look at his son, his boy, the one he held in his arms all throughout his first night in this world, whom he clung to when the world fell apart and whom he let go when he felt the noose tightening around his neck.

This was it now, the reckoning, the price for his sins and he knows it.

Tommy also couldn't look at Lizzie, Lizzie who hadn't known, and yet fought like she had.

He did not have a right to look at her, the same way he had no right to call her his. Beautiful, brave Lizzie, who was better than he was, than he had ever been.

Lizzie, who had faced the coming storm with stoic silence and a fiery determination, who had locked herself in her office and read every last publication from the war office, every pamphlet, every page of every parliamentary decree - everything in search of an answer.

She hadn’t stopped, not to eat, not to sleep, not until she read every last option, knew of every single loophole and could explain even the most obscure alternatives.

She had presented them one by one, like pitching a business proposition, wrapped in soft words of heroism, for what could be more heroic than the study and pursuit of saving lives instead of taking them?

She talked of family, and how he could take up a place in the management of the factories, produce ammunition instead of fire it. Or if that was not to his liking, perhaps the shipping and the cars, everything relied on movement, of goods and weapons and men and those that managed it were indispensable.

She offered him a position in the foundation, in the same part she worked in where they made sure to evacuate as many people, as many children as possible out of the cities.

Every single option, every single post a chance to make him essential - everything, anything, that would keep him away from the front lines, on the ground, at sea or in the air.

As if any other son was less essential- any other father or brother.

She presented them calmly, logically, the desperation in her heart only shining in her eyes but she did not allow it to affect her voice.

All the while, Charlie had listened, taking in each and every option she presented to him - patiently, ardently.

Thomas Shelby had hoped against hope, even though he had no right to, but he knew their son’s answer before spoke, as soon as Charlie got up and took Lizzie’s hands in his.

"I'm sorry Mum,”, he said softly, “but no."

End.

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind! If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist].

@sunsetmourners I hope you enjoyed my contribution to your challenge.

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads

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urlexaprohoe · 2 years

Text

Dear Y/N…

This is the second part of „Dear Mother“, which was supposed to be a One Shot. I got a really sweet request to write about Tommy‘s reaction to the aftermath and I LOVED the idea. So, here you go…

Dear Mother

Thomas Shelby deals with his wife and son leaving him after the war and decides to write to them…

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mentions of war

864 words

Thomas slammed his hands on his desk. This couldn’t be true, she couldn’t have just left him. He was fighting back tears but he didn’t know if it was sadness or anger rushing through his body. His hands slammed on the wooden table once again, knocking over some of the objects on it.

“Are you okay?” Polly entered the room with a concerned look on her face. “She’s gone.” That was everything he had been able to say before the tears started to pour. More angry than he was before, he wiped them away. The woman in front of him bit her lip. She knew that she couldn’t say what she wanted to say to him, she couldn’t tell him the truth: It was his own fault. But he knew.

“We have to get her back!” Arthur slammed a fist on the side table next to him, making Ada flinch. Every person in the room was shocked, thinking about what to do. Nobody would have expected this outcome, not even Ada and Polly. Sure, they knew that she was unhappy, but leaving her whole life behind?

Thomas was the only one quiet. He just stared at the wall, thinking about what to do next. “Tommy, say something, please!” Now it was Ada who was getting frustrated. Y/N had been like a sister to her, the best friend she never really had growing up. Having to continue her normal life without her was something she didn’t want to imagine.

“Leave this room.” Everybody was just staring at Thomas with a confused look on their faces. He looked up to them and rolled his eyes. “NOW.”

As soon as he was alone, Thomas sighed and picked up a pen and a sheet of paper. He knew that they couldn’t get her back by force. So he did the only thing any ordinary man would do…

Dear Y/N,

I am truly sorry for all of the pain that I have caused to you during the last few months. I know that I haven’t been there for you, not mentally nor physically.

I have seen terrible things, my dear. And I know that it changed me, I know that I have become a man so unlovable, that even his beautiful wife and son left him behind. Who am I to decide where you should live your life? I am not going to chase after you like the criminal Iˋve become. I want to give you the choice of being with who you want to be. I’m sure that you know whatˋs best for Charles, how could I? I haven’t spent enough time with him to know that.

Business has become difficult to handle. I know that you probably hate that word by now since I have spent so much more time with my business than I did with my family. But I don’t know how to look in those beautiful eyes of yours without thinking that I’m not the man you deserve. Not anymore.

There are voices in my head, Y/N. And during the night, they get loud, almost unbearable. They remind me of the terrible things I’ve had to do in order to survive in France.

If I could be able to make up for all the bad I’ve caused in your life, I would. I wouldn’t just give those beautiful roses to you, I’d let them plant a whole garden for you. You’d never have to be alone, Charles wouldn’t have to grow up without a father by his side.

I want to be the perfect husband and the perfect father but I fear that I might not be able to. But seeing the empty house made me realize that there might be a chance to give you back what you deserve. I don’t know about you, my dear, but I want to take that chance.

If you decide that a new life is the best choice for both you and our son, I will respect that choice of yours. You will get money every month, the both of you won't ever have to live a bad life. I will do everything in my power to make your new life as comfortable as possible, no matter how far away you are.

Some of my best men will be sent to your new home, they will make sure that nobody will lay a finger on you without you wanting it.

But I do ask for one favor in return. Please tell Charles about his father. I want him to know that he is always welcome to come back to me and his family if he desires.

But darling, if you should consider coming back to once again be with me, I will wait for you with open arms. I don’t know if I truly deserve a second chance after failing at being both a father and a husband. But I will be waiting for the both of you, no matter how long it takes you to come back to me. And I will try to finally be the man the both of you deserve. I will make you proud of this family.

I love you,

Thomas Shelby

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders #arthur shelby #ada shelby

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archieimagines · 2 years

Text

Discontinued Fandoms Masterlist

This is a compilation of all the works we’ve posted for fandoms we no longer write for. The writing itself will always be kept here for you to enjoy!

Check our main masterlist here!

American Horror Story

Imagines:

Cordelia Foxx | Imagine becoming the new Supreme

Big Bang Theory

One Shots:

Sheldon Cooper | Prove the Theory

Headcanons:

Sheldon and Leonard | Sheldon’s little sister sharing the apartment

Black Sails

Imagines:

Charles Vane | Imagine Charles Vane promising you a future by his side

The Breakfast Club

Imagines:

John Bender | Imagine Bender helping you find the library for detention

DC Universe

One Shot:

Hal Jordan | Get Your Own Jello

Deadpool

Preferences:

How they cuddle | Part 2

Divergent

Imagines:

Will | Imagine Will teaching you martial arts

Doctor Who

Imagines:

10th Doctor | Imagine being with the 10th Doctor in Paris

12th Doctor | Imagine being in a band with the 12th Doctor

Downton Abbey

One Shots:

Thomas Barrow | Such A Charmer

The Flash

Headcanons:

Barry Allen | Dating Barry would include

Friends

Imagines:

Joey Tribbiani | Imagine having a crush on Joey

Headcanons:

All | Having a night out with the group would include

Glee

Imagines:

Noah ‘Puck’ Puckerman | Imagine Puck getting jealous over you

Grey’s Anatomy

One Shots:

George O’ Malley | 007

Owen Hunt | Major Owen Hunt | My Choice

Hairspray

Imagines:

Corny Collins | Imagine Corny telling you “Hey baby, looks like you could use a stiff one.”

Hawaii 5-0

One Shots:

Chin Ho Kelly | Mistakes

Danno Williams | Save Me

Hemlock Grove

Imagines:

Roman Godfrey | Imagine Roman missing your hints that he’s an upir

KINGSMAN MASTERLIST

LOST

Imagines:

James ‘Sawyer’ Ford | Imagine Sawyer not wanting to give your bag back James ‘Sawyer’ Ford | Imagine Sawyer not realising he’s stolen your medication James ‘Sawyer’ Ford | Imagine having your first time with Sawyer James ‘Sawyer’ Ford | Imagine Sawyer noticing that Jack is your ex

Kate Austen | Imagine Kate comforting you when you lose a precious necklace

Sayid Jarrah | Imagine falling asleep on Sayid Sayid Jarrah | Imagine being selectively mute and only speaking to Sayid Sayid Jarrah | Imagine Sayid saving you Sayid Jarrah | Imagine Sayid scaring you when he turns ‘bad’ Sayid Jarrah | Imagine finding a pool with Sayid Sayid Jarrah | Imagine finding out Sayid is touch-starved

Shannon Rutherford | Imagine lending Shannon your inhaler

One Shots:

James ‘Sawyer’ Ford | Sandbox | Part 2

Preferences:

First Kiss

Night At The Museum

Imagines:

Kahmunrah | Imagine Kahmunrah falling in love with you

The Maze Runner

Imagines:

Gally | Imagine Gally falling in love with you Gally | Imagine trying to come up with a plan to be with Gally

NCIS

Imagines:

Leroy Jethro Gibbs | Imagine Gibbs reluctantly cuddling with you

One Shots:

Leroy Jethro Gibbs | His Closest Friend

Park And Rec

Imagines:

Ben Wyatt | Imagine comforting Ben after the Ice Town incident

One Shots:

Andy Dwyer | “Holy shit, you know Santa!”

Ben Wyatt | Happy Secrets

Peaky Blinders

One Shots:

Tommy Shelby | Eavesdrop

Preacher

Imagines:

Cassidy | Imagine being in a relationship with Cassidy Cassidy | Imagine getting up to mischief with Cassidy

Pushing Daisies

Imagines:

Emerson Cod | Imagine Emerson knitting you a sweater for Christmas Emerson Cod | Imagine being Emerson’s assistant

Ned the Piemaker | Imagine Ned falling in love with you when you become a regular Ned the Piemaker | “You’re covered in flour.” Ned the Piemaker | Imagine Ned baking you a pie

Reign

One Shots:

Sebastian ‘Bash’ de Poitiers | Real France | Part 2

Riverdale

Imagines:

Archie Andrews | Imagine everyone noticing you and Archie like each other Archie Andrews | Imagine being a Serpent that Archie falls for

Jughead Jones | Imagine editing Jughead’s manuscript Jughead Jones | Imagine becoming Jughead’s friend

Reggie Mantle | Imagine Reggie liking you

Sweet Pea | “Open your present!”

Veronica Lodge | I dressed down in this catwoman outfit for you and my party boob keeps escaping

One Shots:

Archie Andrews | Worry

Jughead Jones | Misery Loves Company

Sweet Pea | Blood, Tears, and... Corn?

Shadowhunters

Imagines:

Jace Wayland | Imagine Clary trying to go for Jace when he’s already dating you

Teen Wolf

Imagines:

Lydia Martin | Imagine Lydia helping you figure out which supernatural creature you are

Stiles Stilinski | Imagine helping Stiles through his night terrors Stiles Stilinski | Imagine being Scott’s little sister and having a crush on Stiles | Part 2 Stiles Stilinski | Imagine Stiles reacting to you getting terrible anonymous messages Stiles Stilinski | “Fine, you can put the topper on the tree.” Stiles Stilinski | “My gingerbread house is prettier than yours.”

One Shots:

Brett Talbot | His Angel

Stiles Stilinski | Unsteady Stiles Stilinski | Not Anymore Stiles Stilinski | Jealousy

Theo Raeken | In the Neighbourhood (kinda NSFW)

Headcanons:

Stiles Stilinski | Dating Stiles would include Stiles Stilinski | How Stiles reacts to you breaking up with him Stiles Stilinski | Taking Stiles to meet your parents would include

Theo Raeken | Dating Theo would include

X-MEN

Imagines:

Erik ‘Magneto’ Lehnsherr | Imagine Erik trying to help with dinner by using his powers Erik ‘Magneto’ Lehnsherr | “You’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?”

Charles ‘Professor X’ Xavier | “Why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?”

Charles and Erik | Imagine being recruited into the X-Men by Charles and Erik

Wolverine / Logan | Imagine stealing Logan’s motorbike to get his attention after having a crush on him for so long

#masterlist #discontinued #admin

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