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gracefulsunflower · 2 years

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CONTRARY - FINN SHELBY X READER; PART 15

PUBLISHED: 29/05/2022

!!FIRST PART HERE!!

Part 1

MASTERLIST

READER'S POV

I twirled my finger in the telephone cord nervously until I heard Lizzie's 'hello?'

"Oh! Lizzie, it's (Y/N), I've just had a dream, and I needed to tell you because you were in it," I rambled as Finn Junior came and weaved between my legs.

'Was it a vision, like the ones Polly has?' Lizzie inquired, and I shrugged.

"I'm not sure, but it felt real enough," I admitted as Finn came down the hall, just waking up, his curly hair all over the place and only wearing boxers and a singlet.

Finn jutted his chin up, and I mouthed 'Lizzie', making him nod as he put the kettle on to boil then reached up to grab two mugs. I watched him as he did so, revelling in how the skin tightened over the muscles in his upper arm, showing them off.

'Tell me about it,' Lizzie demanded softly, bringing me back to reality and making me avert my eyes from Finn.

"You had a baby, and she grew up to be gorgeous, like someone you'd see in the pictures. Her name was Ruby," I stated, leaning back against the bench, smiling slightly, "And I saw her father, too. The blue eyed devil. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

'Tommy Shelby,' She sighed, then took a slight pause, 'It's true. I am pregnant, and he's the father. He doesn't know yet.'

"Are - Are you keeping her?" I asked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, Finn now going over and relighting the fire.

'Yes. I want a baby,' She states, making me grin.

"Well then, Miss Stark, congratulations. I'll knit you some baby boots, beanies, and a blanket." I informed her.

'I don't need them just yet!' Lizzie protested with a chuckle.

"It'll be good to have them on hand," I pointed out, making her hum in agreement.

'I'm feeling a bit tired, I reckon I need some more sleep, see you at the shop?' Lizzie said, then yawned.

"See you at the shop. Talk to you later," I replied, then Lizzie hung up.

"Who's the father of her baby?" Finn questioned, and I put my finger to my lips, signalling that it was a secret.

Finn huffed, but nodded as he came back over and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and put sugar into his blue mug.

"I'll take Jenica's cake tin back over to her," I said as it caught my eye on the bench.

"Who the fuck is Jenica?" He asked, pouring the now boiled water into his mug.

"My cousin, Jenica Palmer. She's probably your distant fucking relation too, with how big and connected gypsy families are," I remarked, then chuckled.

"I'll come with you," Finn announced after pouring milk into his cup.

"You've been in my pocket ever since I got back, Finn Shelby, I don't think so," I warned, wagging my finger.

Finn nodded, knowing not to push my limits, then handed me the tin, "Take a gun with you, put it in your bra or something. City's still dangerous."

"I will," I snapped, frowning as I turned on my heel and went up the corridor, grabbing Finn's handgun off of the table, unloading it then putting it into my bra.

I grabbed the silencer too, putting it into my bra.

I knew that we were in trouble, it held on to the Shelby's like a bulldog. I didn't need reminders every five seconds. I grabbed my socks and put them on, then grabbed my boots, pulling them on. I looked over at my vanity, and decided that the walk was too far away, instead grabbing the hair tie on my wrist and scraping my hair up into a bun, grabbing my coat, and walking back out to the living room, where Finn was frying, eggs, sausages, and tomatoes in a pan, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

"I won't be long," I informed him, making him nod.

I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down a reminder to knit the stuff for Lizzie, and one to buy our own cake tin, then left the flat, borrowed cake tin in hand. I walked along the balcony in front of the apartments, humming a song I had heard on the radio.

I went upstairs, then entered the building, taking the internal stairwell instead of the fire escape for once, sick of the clanging sound it made with my boots.

I walked up to the fifth floor, and headed to the third door on the right, knocking on it.

Jenica opened the door, baby Violet on her hip.

"Cousin," She greeted warmly, pulling me in for a hug.

"Hello, cousin. I brought your cake tin back," I said as I released her from the hug, handing it to her, "I've got to get back to the apartment before Finn sends out a fucking search party, I'll come visit you and baby soon."

I pressed a kiss to Violet's forehead, making her giggle.

"All good, see you then." She said, and shut the door.

I walked down the internal staircase, and heard a familiar voice yell; "Everyone stay indoors! Stay down! By order of the Peaky Blinders!"

"Oh, fuck," I muttered, yanking the gun out of my bra, "I should've stayed home."

As I was putting the silencer on the gun, I looked down, and Tommy was coming up the stairwell.

"Thomas!" I hissed, making him look up, "What's going on?"

He ignored my question as he approached me, grabbing my arm and dragging me along with him.

"Why do you have a gun like that? Are the Italians here?" I questioned, and he shushed me as he continued to lead me God knows where.

My heart started racing. I didn't know these buildings like the back of my hand. I wasn't a Shelby, born and raised here like he was. I felt blind.

He stopped and leaned against a wall, panting. I started panting too, although it was from nerves instead of being out of breath. I reloaded my gun, then watched as Tommy reloaded his gun, then I pocketed the empty cartridge, making him look at me.

"You've been pushing papers around for too long, that could lead them to us!" I busted quietly, making him nod.

We heard voices in the stairwell, so he lead me through the door on our right. He lead me through the building to a fire escape, and looked around quickly. He lead me downstairs. I noticed someone walking down the street, and aimed my gun at them.

"Oi!" I called out, making him turn around, revealing the gun at his side.

I took one shot, sending a bullet through his head, watching as he fell to the ground in a heap.

"Stay here, watch my back, and if Luca comes, I get that shot," Tommy commanded, and I did so, kneeling down and pressing my back into the window behind me to make myself less visible from the street.

My hands were shaky, and cold. I heard someone speaking Italian as Tommy stepped off of the bottom step, and peeked over the edge of the landing, watching as Luca Changretta took shots at Tommy. I kept my eyes on the pair as they exchanged shots, then as Luca's gun ran out of bullets.

He put the gun down, and walked towards Tommy, and another Italian appeared from around the corner. I steadied myself, then took a shot and killed the other Italian, making Luca jump as his crony hit the ground. I let out a breath, then ran back upstairs and in the door Tommy and I just exited, making my way back to my own apartment.

I tried the front door, and found it locked.

"Finn!" I called out desperately as I knocked on the door, feeling shaken.

Finn opened the door, and I pushed past him, tripping over my own feet as I run to the bathroom, and knelt in front of the toilet, where I promptly vomited. I didn't even have anything to eat yet, so it felt horrid.

As I dry heaved, I felt a hand rub my back. Finn.

"What happened? Italians?" He asked, and I nodded, flushing the toilet.

"Tommy — I came across him when I was coming back from Jenica's. He had Italians after him, and he dragged me along with him. I don't know these streets, I don't know these buildings, I was fucking blind, thrown in the deep end!" I spat, feeling tears well up in my eyes, "If I knew what was happening and if I knew these buildings I'd be fine, but fucking hell, he just ordered me about like I was a soldier under his command, never again!"

I wiped them away angrily with a sniff, then heard stuff hit the sink, and the sound of something filling up. I looked up to see Finn offering me the cup that our toothbrushes usually sat in, but filled with water. I took it, muttering a quiet 'thank you' and took a sip, swishing it around my mouth then spitting it into the toilet, repeating the action until my mouth felt clean. I handed the cup back to Finn, who sat it on the sink, then helped me stand up on shaky legs.

"Feeling sick still? Want to eat breakfast?" Finn asked, and I shrugged.

"I'll keep it warm on the fire until you feel alright. You should shower, I've got a feeling we're going to have a family meeting soon." He stated, and I nodded, turning the water on.

"I'll set you out some clean clothes," Finn mumbled as he exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I stripped down and hopped into the shower, welcoming the feeling of the warm water on my skin. I had washed my hair last night, so there was no need to do it now. I stood under the hot water for a bit, waiting until I felt all of the tension wash off of me, then moved to clean my body, deciding to use Finn's body wash instead of my own. Once I was done, I turned off the shower and leaned out, grabbing my towel off of the rack and drying myself, then wrapping it around my body. I put my dirty clothes, bar my coat, which had been washed yesterday, into the laundry basket behind the door, picked up my boots, and walked to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I spotted the clothes Finn put out on my bed, walking over and drawing the curtains closed, then quickly got dressed, then put my boots on. I walked over to my vanity and grabbed my brush, undoing my bun with one hand, and pulling my hair over my shoulder, detangling my hair then pulling it down into a plait, in case I had to do any more fighting today.

I walked out of my room, down to the kitchen. The smell of food didn't make my stomach turn, a good sign. Finn was plating up the food. I walked over to the cupboard and grabbed my yellow mug down, making myself a cup of tea.

"You feel alright now?" Finn asked, and I nodded.

"Fuckin' nerves making me sick, that's all it was," I grumbled, taking a sip of my tea.

I grabbed my plate from Finn and carried it over to the table, placing it and my cup down, then headed over to the cupboard, grabbing a tin of cat food out and putting it into Finn Junior's bowl. I was surprised to learn that, while I was with the Italians, Finn had gotten the cat bowls, beds, blankets, and even a litter box with the cat's name on it. And the pair of them still hate each other.

I put Finn Junior's bowl down at the end of the bench, and he got up from his place in front of the fire and sauntered over, purring as he swayed his tail.

I sat at the table, next to Finn instead of across from him, and started eating, thanking him for the food first. We ate in a comfortable silence, and once we were done I took everything to the sink and washed them up, leaving them in the rack to dry.

The phone rang, and I picked it up.

"Hello?" I greeted my hand coming up to fiddle with my half heart pendant.

'(Y/N)? Family meeting, one hour. Polly's house.' Tommy said, then hung up.

"Fuck!" I bellowed, slamming the phone back down.

"What happened?" Finn asked, coming to stand next to me.

"Family meeting, one hour, his house," I mocked in a deep voice, making Finn chuckle.

"We can't even take the car because you got sick in it last night and it still stinks," I grouched, making Finn blush.

He was absolutely legless, Isiah had to call me to come get him from the Garrison. I should've left him there on the floor, or behind the bar.

"I'll call Arthur to come pick us up," He stated, making me nod, "I'll go have a shower, I'll be ready to leave in fifteen, I can read you some of the paper before we leave if you want."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Why are you being nice to me? Is it so I won't be mad at Tommy?"

He looked taken aback, then narrowed his own eyes at me, "Am I not allowed to be nice to my wife? Would you rather be a drop dead cunt?"

"No — But you were never nice before I got taken!" I defended myself, making Finn roll his eyes and turn on his heel, heading to his room.

"You are worth the effort, fuck what anyone else told you before," He threw back quietly over his shoulder, then added, "If you weren't so contrary all the time we'd probably be an alright pair."

I scowled and picked up the pan that Finn had used to cook the food, and launched it after him, "I'm not fucking contrary! I'm complicated!"

He just laughed me off, "Yeah, you've got layers; like an onion."

"Stop comparing me to an onion!" I shrieked, before regaining my composure.

I looked down at Finn Junior, who was looking up at me with a funny look on his face.

"Don't stare at me like that."

•••

THIRD PERSON'S POV

"They're here," Polly announced, looking out of the window and seeing Arthur, Linda, you, and Finn in Arthur's car.

You were poking Finn in the side of the head, talking animatedly. Polly wouldn't be surprised if you were arguing about something. Again.

Finn hopped out of the car, helping you out, then all four of you crossed the street, heading to Polly's. Once inside, you sat at Polly's dining table. There were only four seats, Arthur and Johnny Doggs took two, Lizzie and Finn taking the other. Finn pulled you down to sit on his lap, and, to everyone's surprise, you stayed there, not protesting as he sat a hand on your hip.

You were glad Finn let you sit in his lap, because nothing could make you stand next to Linda. At least this way Finn could hold you back if you tried to hit her. Standing on the other side of Charlie meant standing behind Johnny Doggs. Finn figured that this way was the best bet.

"So," Arthur began, tipping the contents of a small blue bottle onto the table, "What the fuck happened today, Tom? We all heard, shooting in Artillery Square."

Tommy nodded softly, "Yeah, there was. Today I killed two men. (Y/N) killed two as well. Now our enemies will have to wait."

You saw out of the corner of your eye the other three sat at the table looking at you in disbelief. You didn't blame them. You didn't look all that threatening, but that's precisely why you were dangerous. No one would expect the gypsy girl to be wielding a gun.

"I suppose they uh, I suppose they took you by surprise, did they?" Arthur questioned, tapping his blue bottle on the table one last time.

"No. They took (Y/N) by surprise; I knew they were coming." Tommy informed the group, making you and Finn side eye each other.

Why weren't you told that Tommy was going gallivanting in your backyard; with all guns blazing? You two could've helped, or hid.

"Just after Christmas I received a letter from Luca Changretta, offering to spare my son if I gave up Tommy. And I gave Tommy up." Polly said, making your eyebrows shoot up.

She was either very stupid or very brave to do that. You thought the latter.

"Because that was the plan that Polly and I agreed on," Tommy added, "I knew that Luca would want to pull that trigger himself, so I used the set up as bait to bring him in. (Y/N) just happen to be in the wrong place at the right time, and thank fuck she had a gun."

Finn squeezed your waist at this statement.

"Never again, I went in blind. I didn't know what the fuck was happening, or why, and I didn't know that building. Next time you need my help, you tell me beforehand," You warned Tommy, who nodded.

"You're a fucking idiot, Tom." Arthur said, sniffing and jerking around in his seat, the snow probably already taking its effect.

"Look, I didn't get Changretta, but I got two and (Y/N) got two, together we got four. All right? That's it, that's what happened." Tommy said in his 'that's final' voice.

Charles came into the room, and Tommy picked him up.

"Aye, but he's right. I mean, it thought you'd gone soft." Johnny Doggs said, standing up from the table and chuckling, "So you got two? And the lass did too?"

"Yeah, I got three. She only needed one shot each, fucking good aim on her." Tommy said, adjusting his son on his hip.

"Well, I'll drink to you, Tom, you mad bastard. And to you, (Y/N), for your services." Charlie said, raising his glass.

"You make it sound like I'm a whore." You said blankly, making Lizzie chuckle, "No offence, Lizzie."

A laugh went around the room, Finn pulling you in so you were leaning against his body.

"Pretty soon, you are gonna get the shakes when your blood cools down. Now, let's go get a drink," Arthur said to his brother.

"Dad, you got four what?" Charles asked, a big grin on his face.

"I got four shillings for a three-shilling horse." Tommy stated, making you chuckle, "Now, my boy, you come with us, huh?"

You watched as all of the men walked out of the room, bar your husband.

"You going to drink with them?" You asked Finn, who shook his head, "I've got whiskey here."

You hummed in agreement, watching carefully as he poured you a glass, and topped his up. You missed the knowing look that the women down the other end of the table shared.

§§§

Ooof long chapter lol

I have a personal Tumblr blog where I post my photography if you all are interested in keeping up with me, I only started using it today tho lol (I also plan on posting other stuff too lol but I'm new to Tumblr so eh)

@naiwillalwaysloveyou

Love y'all ❤️

- Sunflower x

NEXT PART

Part 16

#finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #x reader #arthur shelby #finn shelby fanfic #tommy shelby

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survey--s · 1 year

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507.

Have you ever fallen in public? Yeah, more times than I care to remember lol. I’m always tripping over my own two feet at work.

What were some toys you enjoyed in your childhood? Sky Dancers, Polly Pockets, Beanie Babies

Do you have any plans in the upcoming weeks? Mostly just work - I have a week of overnights coming up which is great financially but I never sleep properly when I’m at someone else’s house.

Do you have any allergies? Nickel.

Do you know anyone named after each season? My friend’s dog is Autumn, lol but that’s it.

What's the last thing you had to write down? A note for a customer yesterday to say her dog hadn’t done a poo.

What was the last thing you cleaned? I washed the pet dishes up and then cleaned around the sink.

Have you ever had a concussion? Yes.

What do you think of TikTok? I don’t use it.

Do you prefer long or short sleeve tops? It depends on the weather.

Have you ever held a wild animal? Yeah, a frog we once found up the woods.

Do you enjoy playing Uno? I’ve only played it once or twice.

Do you tend to speed when you drive? Eh yeah, sometimes.

Do you smoke cigarettes? No.

Do you get obnoxious when you’re drunk? I don’t know anyone who doesn’t, to be quite honest. It’s why I don’t really drink anymore - drunk people aren’t fun to be around.

Name one thing you do that people always tell you about. Talk too much about animals lol.

Are you superstitious? No.

Do you get bored with relationships quickly? Not if they’re good relationships.

Can you sleep without blankets covering you? I can, but not well. Even in the height of summer, I like having a duvet over me.

Who do you wish you could hang out with right now? Nobody, I’m pretty content to just be chilling with the dog (who’s currently napping and cuddled up to my leg).

Name one thing you absolutely can not stand. People who pull out on you at junctions and then decide to drive well below the speed limit.

Pick one: Papa John’s, Domino's, or Pizza Hut. Papa John’s.

Who was the first person to ever give you flowers? A boy named William at school.

What is something you do for other people that shows you care for them? I look after them and do jobs etc. to help them out.

What was the last animal/pet that you met? Like, a new pet? I don’t know - it was probably Oakley - he’s a fox red labrador.

Is there anyone in your life with whom your opinion changes on frequently? No, not really.

Do you ever look up set lists for concerts? No.

Is there a certain song or band who reminds you of specific people? Sure, pretty much every song or band out there reminds me of someone.

Would you prefer to take a picture of yourself, or have someone else take it for you? As long as it’s a good photo, I don’t care who takes it lol.

How often do you style your hair differently from how you normally style it? I have like, three hairstyles that I switch between depending on my mood.

What was the last thing to really surprise you? I can’t remember.

Is there something in particular you always seem to forget? No.

Have you ever tried making something from one of those short cooking videos? How did it turn out? I don’t think I have. I always think the recipes look really good and then I generally never bother again lol.

Have you ever written a review for a product you bought online? Yeah, loads of times - I always try and leave reviews for independent businesses as I know how much difference it can make.

Do you ever interact with any brands/companies online? Yeah, a couple.

Is there anything you seem especially sensitive to, such as sounds, smells, etc? Yeah, I have sensory issues around texture, touch and certain smells.

What was the last board game you played? Monopoly is the only one we ever play.

Is anyone you work with currently on maternity leave or vacation? I’m self-employed and don’t have any employees or co-workers.

Favorite boy’s name? Zachary, Xavier, Alexander, Tobias.

Baked macaroni and cheese or regular? Definitely the baked stuff.

Name one of your friends’ children: Rosie.

What’s the middle name of your best friend? He doesn't have one.

How far away do you live from the closest aquarium? Uh, there are two within about an hour of here - I think the closest one is about half an hour away but it’s not very good.

Favorite girl's name? Sophia, Catelyn, Rosie, Alexa.

Are you in a relationship? If so, how long? Yeah, we’ve been together for seven years and married for almost five.

What food do you see the most of at baby showers? I’ve never been to a baby shower.

What’s the last show you really got into that you have to wait for the next season of? The Dog Academy or Clarkson’s Farm.

Have you ever worked in a grocery store? Yeah, for six years or so. It wasn’t actually the worst job in the world.

What’s the temperature range in your area? In winter it can get to below -15C, and in summer it can get up to +35C. I live by the mountains and the sea, so we get all the weather ranges lol.

Have you been around anyone that creeped you out? Yeah, for sure, especially a guy named Daniel who I met online. He was seriously creepy and bordering on obsessive with people. Ew.

Do you own a pair of Crocs? No - I can’t get over how hideous they are lol.

Does anyone in your family have a birthday in February? Uh, it’s not ringing a bell.

Have you ever lived in a trailer/doublewide? No, they’re not really a thing here.

Did you ever participate in any pageants when you were younger? I won a cute toddler contest once lol.

Which would you rather have, twins or triplets? Twins.

Snakes or spiders? Snakes.

Who/what makes you feel safe? My husband, my family, my animals, being at home.

What’s something you want, but feel like you will never have? Uhh, enough money to own my own horses.

Have you ever gone through a bad breakup? Of course.

Do you believe in Jesus? I mean, I believe a person named Jesus existed and that that person was crucified, but I don’t believe he was the son of God or anything like that.

Are you hard of hearing? Not really.

How many bones have you broken in your life? I’ve fractured my skull three times.

Have you ever had vertigo? No, my mum gets it though and it’s really horrible for her.

Has your house ever been robbed? No, but not long after I moved out, my parents’ house got broken into while they were sleeping upstairs and it freaked me out for weeks lol.

If you have a partner, do you have a song? Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden.

Have you or would you ever hold a snake? Yeah, I’ve done that at the zoo before. Snakes are pretty cool but I wouldn’t want to go anywhere near the venomous ones lol. I watched a programme once about a man who tried to make himself immune to snake venom by injecting himself with it and then allowing his body to heal itself...NOPE NOPE NOPE lol.

#survey #surveys

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bears-kin-cafe · 2 years

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could i please get an association list for a michael afton kin? objects please. and could i also claim the anon tag ☁️🦊 tysm have a good day

You sure can!

objects:

an old polly pocket doll. you fixed it up ages ago.

stuffing from an old plush. didn't you throw that away?

two baby blankets. one in pristine condition and a light gray and blue combo. the other, a red baby blanket, from some old show you cant remember, falling apart at the seams.

three mugs, three plates. they sit in your kitchen cabinet, they're the only cups and plates in the house besides your mothers fine china. but you're scared to break another thing she cherished.

a tool box. it sits beside your front door, and you stub your toe on it every morning. you really need to move it.

a hair brush

your fathers hat

an old hoodie, your favorite one from high school

I hope you enjoy! And always feel free to ask for more!

#order up!#our special of the day is objects #☁️🦊#micheal afton #mod rock

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

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Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister reader #shelby!reader #baby!shelby #baby shelby #alfie solomons x baby!shelby #alfie solomons platonic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb

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oreomonsterhunter · 3 years

Text

Life Sucks

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Word Count: 10K (I know.....this was a surprise for me, too)

Genre: fluff, romantic comedy

Warnings: language (our characters have a tendency to curse, apparently)

Summary: Sunshine reader is in love with love, but hasn’t had much luck with it herself. When she meets Minho, a self-proclaimed cynic and disbeliever of “true love”, she’s determined to change his life. If she can’t find the love of her life, she’s going to try to find his.

This fic was inspired by a tag game once upon a time. It was supposed to be a short drabble, but apparently I can’t hold back with Minho. Tag game featured this specific Lee Know and just kinda spiraled from there lol

Nearing the end of January, winter sometimes seemed endless. Yet when you stepped out into the morning chill, you were pleasantly surprised to find the snow banks melting a bit. Your boots splashed through small puddles as you strode down the street, and you smiled softly at the lavender sky. It was still early enough—for a Saturday—that the sidewalks weren’t too packed yet, so you indulged in a more leisurely walk than usual, dancing along to the music from your headphones. You caught a few odd looks, but you simply smiled and waved at everyone you passed. They could judge your happiness all they wanted, nothing could possibly spoil your day when it was off to such a good start—

“Shit,” you gasped, jumping back onto the curb as a car barrelled through a red light. Had you been a second slower, you would’ve been a vehicular manslaughter case. “Asshole,” you hollered after them, flipping two middle fingers in the air.

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose, attempting to banish the exasperation and get back into your music again. More careful this time, you double checked both ways down the street before entering the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, your streak of bad luck continued. Just as you hopped off the street, a truck passed by behind you, tires bumping through a pothole. And with the recent snowmelt, this resulted in a spray of cold water hitting the backs of your legs.

You froze, mind stuttering as you tried to comprehend how the morning had taken such a turn, all within your first five minutes outside. Pursing your lips, you twisted around to inspect the damage. The dirty water might stain your jeans, but the most pressing matter was the cold and wet denim now plastered to your legs from your calves to the backs of your knees. You bit your lip, contemplating just turning back and spending the whole day in your apartment. Pajamas, a blanket, hot coffee and tea readily available. Maybe a movie, just because you could.

Then you shook your head, determined to make the best of the day. You wanted a cappuccino, dammit. And chocolate babka from the cafe. No homicidal drivers or puddles could stop you. It was a Saturday, just past sunrise, and you had a whole day ahead of you. No need to wallow a few minutes in. And besides, who knew what would happen.

You set off for the cafe, determination heavy in each step. You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it was thinner than before. You switched to a different playlist so that your boots could thump the concrete in time. And you breathed, spooling calmness back into yourself.

It was a Saturday. You might meet the love of your life today. And nothing could stop you from finding out.

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and you softened a little further, relaxing into the familiar surroundings. You hardly even noticed the damp denim chafing your legs as you skipped up to the counter.

Ruth, currently manning the register, chuckled as she rang up another customer. “Well would you look at that, the sun came shining right in our front door,” she said.

“Good morning,” you giggled. You waved to Jonathan, Ruth’s husband, in the back. The couple had been running the little cafe and bakery for years, and you were a faithful customer, coming by at least once a week since you first moved to the neighborhood.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he called, hands busy kneading dough for what would doubtless become something delicious. You hummed thoughtfully, considering the baked goods in the glass case before you.

“Your usual?”

You tapped a finger on your chin, “You know, the poppy seed muffins look awfully tempting. I might just have to switch it up today.”

Ruth nodded, tapping on the register. You handed over the requisite bills and she shooed you off, sliding the muffin over the counter. “Go on now, a table opened up by the window, perfect spot. I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you said, but Ruth was already fussing over the espresso machine. Shaking your head, you weave through the maze of tables and chairs, dodging patrons on your way to the window seat.

You had your eyes on the prize, and you were only a few feet from the chair when you pulled up short. A stranger, their back to you, plopped down in your chair. You blinked, suddenly and painfully aware of your wet pants, the muffin growing cool in your hand, the fact that you could give up now and walk home but perhaps you’d just get hit by a car and never get a chance to enjoy your breakfast. You sighed deeply, breathing out through your nose as you closed your eyes, seeking inner peace or something.

“Can I help you?”

The voice knocked you out of your momentary meditation, and you looked at the table thief in surprise. He loosened the fluffy scarf around his neck before sliding his arms out of his winter coat. A beret, of all things, tilted dangerously to the side before he adjusted it on his head. He looked like some kind of absent-minded professor, but for the youthful features that peered up at you. A sharp nose, tinted red from the cold, and a soft mouth. Dark and depthless eyes, paired with high cheekbones and a cutting jawline.

You realized you were staring when he waved at you, eyes widened. “Hello?”

“Um, sorry, I just,” you stammered, lost for words.

“Do you want to sit or something?”

You stopped again, mouth dropping open. You checked the time—you had fifteen minutes or so, enough time for another table to open up. “Uh, sure, if that’s ok with you. I was hoping for a table, I’m meeting someone,” you said, beginning to ramble.

“No problem, I don’t need all this space, and I’ll head out soon,” he cut you off, raising one brow at you when you continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.

Ruth’s arrival with your cappuccino was what ultimately forced your hand. You sat down, gratefully accepting the drink, your smile less shaky with a taste of the familiar.

“I didn’t think they did table service,” the stranger mused.

“They don’t, I just know the owners,” you shook your head, cutting yourself off when you saw his disinterest. “Sorry, I should introduce myself,” you switched tacks, giving your name with a bright grin. So what if it was forced?

The stranger looked at you, and his lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk. “Minho,” he responded.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward, and you found yourself leaning forward desperately. “So how’s your day so far?”

Minho snorted, reaching for his own drink—an iced americano, you guessed, despite it being the middle of winter. “Probably better than yours.”

“What?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

He gestured to your legs with one hand. “Unfortunate accident this morning?”

Your lips tightened, holding back a frown, “Puddles, you know.”

Minho sighed, sounding sympathetic now, rather than snarky. “Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?” And there was the sarcasm again.

“One or two bad things doesn’t mean life sucks,” you countered, sipping your coffee. “I’m excited about the rest of the day, it’s not even eight in the morning! And it’s the weekend, and it’s sunny and warm, and I have hot coffee and a delicious muffin, and the world is out there and ready to be enjoyed,” you finished, lips curling up as you looked out the window at the sunrise, the horizon flaming golden.

“Sounds like you’ve never had a job,” a harsh voice cut into your admiration. Your smile faltered as you looked back at Minho. You gaped at him, brain processing the way this soft-looking boy sounded like the king of cynics. The last thing you expected from someone wearing a fuzzy beret and looking like a sly teddy bear was this blunt conversation. “No one’s that excited when they have to work fifty plus hour weeks to pay the bills. Trust fund baby?” he inquired, sipping calmly.

Yep, there was no fighting the frown now. “No, and I don’t appreciate the judgement. Why can’t I just be happy?”

Minho smirked, “Never said you can’t. I just wanted to see if you had a personality beyond being Positive Polly.”

Your eyes flamed, but your phone buzzed, distracting you before you could smite the snarky boy. You fumbled at your coat pocket, whipping out the device to check for a new message. You slumped—just a spam email.

“Waiting for something important?” Minho asked, tilting his head.

You huffed, shoving the device back in your pocket. “As a matter of fact, yes,” you sassed, tossing your hair over one shoulder. “I’m waiting for a date.”

He hummed at you, expression unreadable. “You’re too excited.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the cafe.

“You’re significantly early, watching the clock like a hawk, and they haven’t even texted you an update.” He took a long sip. “What time is your date anyway? Eight in the morning? They’re not coming.”

Your smile faltered again. Damn him, why was a total stranger dimming your joy? You shoved your chair back, even though no tables had opened up yet. You’d wait by the counter and chat with Ruth. Anything was better than this asshole.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock himself. “Five past, and still nothing,” he commented.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

A spark appeared in his eyes, and he grinned. “Good to see you have some backbone,” he commented.

You could’ve sworn steam was coming out of your ears, but your phone vibrated again. You checked the lock screen, seeing a new text pop up from Jay: hey I can’t make it. You swiped on the message, but nothing followed it. Seriously? That was it? No explanation, and not even a half-assed apology?

“Told you so.”

You spun to face Minho, glare renewed. “And what makes you so sure of yourself and my date?” you demanded.

He snorted, “Life sucks; so does dating. The only thing you’re guaranteed is disappointment.”

Your anger faded slightly as you watched the boy sip his iced coffee, his silhouette stark against the snow outside. When you took a breath to get past your own mingled frustration—both at Jay and your new snarky companion—you saw the tense lines of his face. You wondered what disappointment had left Minho so defensive.

“Alright, enlighten me,” you said, throwing yourself back in the chair. This time, you settled in, sliding out of your coat and leaning forward with your coffee. “Who broke your heart?”

A look of disgust slid over those pretty features. “No one broke anything,” he scoffed, turning to the window and giving you another dose of his sharp profile. You rested your chin on your hand thoughtfully, just watching him and waiting. “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered. “You’re not my therapist.”

“But I am a perfectly kind stranger. And strangers are the easiest people to talk to,” you said sunnily.

“And don’t sound so happy.”

“No can do, people call me Sunshine for a reason.”

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not calling you that.”

Now you were the one with a cocky smirk, “Why, does it hurt your delicate masculinity?”

A beat of silence, and then, “One of my best friends is called Sunshine.” Minho looked at you sharply. “I’m not calling you that,” he said again.

You waved him off, oddly touched in spite of his gruff tone. This human version of grumpy cat had a best friend named Sunshine? Incredible, and surprisingly soft of him. “Ok fine, no arguments from me. Tell me about her. Or him, whoever it is,” you stumbled over your words.

Minho didn’t seem to notice your blundering. He stared somewhere beyond your shoulder, “No one broke my heart.” Then his eyes focused on you again as he asserted, “I’ve just experienced enough to know better than to hope blindly. The world isn’t looking out for you.”

Humming, you folded your arms as you considered his statements. “Well, I believe in true love,” you started.

“Why am I not surprised?” Minho groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I also believe in the power of positive thinking,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Ignoring his dramatic moaning, you steamrolled ahead. “Yeah, my morning turned out pretty shitty, but if I just go crawl back in bed, I’ll have wasted a whole day over something as silly as wet jeans.”

“Wet jeans and being stood up.”

“And being stood up,” you allowed, gritting your teeth to maintain a smile. “But if I let that stop me from living my life, then I’ve let the negative win. If I go check out a new dating app or two and keep trying, one day I’ll have something good.”

Minho put his coffee down, resting one hand on the table as he met your eyes, gaze hard. “Listen, nothing good comes out of a dating app. You’re wasting your time. And didn’t you say you hate doing that?”

You wanted to argue, but your friends had told you much of the same. Minho was just less polite in his delivery. But you hadn’t had any luck with real life men, either. Case in point: your irritating argument with the perfectly attractive guy in front of you. So that left apps, even if the pickings were regrettably slim. And only growing slimmer, if the ghost date was any indication. You didn’t have the guts to tell Minho that this wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up.

Then you had an idea. Your grin widened, and Minho’s irritated expression faded into apprehension. “Well if I’m doomed to never find love,” you started, batting your eyelashes teasingly. “Why don’t I look for the love of your life instead?”

Minho blanched, recoiling with enough force that his chair rocked back on two legs. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” you beamed at him. “I’ve been a successful matchmaker for a bunch of my friends, too. I’ve just had trouble finding my own love interest.”

“What is this, a rom com?” he hissed.

You clapped your hands, overcome with excitement for the first time since the puddle. “Oh, a romance, I wish,” you nearly swooned at the thought. “I promise I’ll do my best. You’d get along great with one of my friends, they’re just as irritable as you.”

Minho exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead with one hand. He closed his eyes, muttering, “What am I doing here?”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. No matchmaking until I know you better,” you amended, whipping out a notebook and pen from your bag. You had just about everything in there—you never knew what emergency might pop up, like brainstorming a match for a stranger. “What are some of your hobbies? Favorite color? Ooh, what about first date activities you love? Oh my goodness, wait, are you looking for men or women?”

Part of you expected Minho to shove his chair back and leave. You wouldn’t be too upset, that just meant you’d have the table to yourself, even if you weren’t waiting on a date anymore. But you didn’t totally hate this guy. And another part of you kind of felt bad for him. He’d never experienced love! Not that you’d had a taste of true love, either, but you knew what was out there. And it was a shame that he didn’t see that too. It was like...someone hating your favorite holiday—unacceptable, if only because you wanted everyone to enjoy it as much as you did.

You begrudgingly admitted that another teeny tiny part of you thought he was too attractive to be so cynical of love. Some lucky girl out there was waiting for Minho, and you were gonna help her out, even if it meant dragging the man kicking and screaming towards her.

But Minho didn’t do what you expected. He didn’t storm off, coffee in hand, scarf flapping in the wind dramatically. He sighed and stood up, but made no move for his coat. “If we’re doing this, I need more coffee,” he said, then turned and made a beeline for the counter without any further explanation.

You blinked after him, more than a bit surprised. He was...going along with this? You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully, watching his shoulders flex beneath his turtleneck as he talked to Ruth. His head turned slightly, and you caught a glimpse of his smile—a real one—taking your breath away.

Now, if only you could get him to smile like that for any potential dates. You clicked your pen with renewed vigor, laughing when Minho approached with a new coffee, exasperation written into every line of his face.

* * * * *

It was a lovely Thursday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your comfiest pajamas. Your only companions were a blanket, a mug of tea, and your phone, which you checked every fifteen seconds. The first time all week that Minho hadn’t answered your messages, and it was the night of his first date. You were buzzing with anticipation, practically vibrating as you waited for news, not caring who it came from first.

Finally, you gave up waiting, throwing the blanket as you went to reheat your tea, since you’d let it grow cold while refreshing your messages. The second you reached the kitchen, however, you heard a buzz. You dashed to the couch, scrambling for your phone to find a text from Mari:

He had to dip early, lame date

You nearly screeched. He left? Your fingers pounded the screen:

What!?!?!! Did he say whyyy?

Mari’s response was short and to the point:

An “emergency”

You could read between the lines. Mari was irritated, to say the least, since the blind date had been your brilliant idea. But what on earth had happened with Minho? Your stomach dropped, considering that he might have an actual emergency. You quickly tapped out a message to him to check in, gnawing your lip in worry.

Hey, Mari said you had an emergency, is everything ok?

You waited what felt like ten thousand years before finally seeing the little bubbles appear. His message, however, was not worth the wait:

Didn’t get on with her

You fumed, pressing dial on his contact with enough force, you were amazed your screen didn’t crack. “You left because you didn’t like her?” you screeched as soon as he picked up.

“Yes.”

Gaping like a fish, you fumbled for words to explain how bad that was. “You can’t just—”

“But I did,” Minho cut you off.

“But you can’t,” you said, exasperated. “Jeez, I thought you knew what you were doing. Obviously not. You need a practice date or something so my friends don’t murder you.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to squawk indignantly. “I do not need practice,” he started.

“Yes, obviously you do. You might look like a player but you’ve obviously never talked to a girl for more than ten minutes,” you scolded him. “Who leaves in the middle of a date? With that bad of an excuse?”

“I hate wasting my time. Didn’t we discuss how we should avoid doing that with our love lives,” he snarked.

You groaned, “There’s a difference between not wasting your time and being rude as heck.”

“So what? She was abrasive, rude, cynical, and had a terrible sense of humor,” Minho said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “I can’t believe you’re friends.”

“That’s a pretty great description of you, too,” you sassed back, irritation taking over. “We might not be that close, but you can’t just insult everyone I set you up with.”

“Who said I wanted you to set me up with anyone?”

“I assumed you did, otherwise why are you going along with this?” you tried your best to calm down, lower your voice. But something about Minho just put your back up.

“Uh,” Minho actually seemed lost for words. Your ears perked up, eager to catch his answer. “My mom wants to set me up with her friends’ daughters,” he tossed out at last.

Seemed a bit too easy. “Sure,” you drawled, leaning back on the couch.

“Yes, really,” he sneered, and you giggled, picturing the exact expression on his face.

“Ok, whatever you say,” you allowed, laughing slightly. “But you’re still going on a practice date. Tomorrow night, six o’clock. Meet me at the cafe. If you’re not there, I’m gonna find your mom and help her out.”

You hung up on him before he could argue with you, grinning madly as you concocted your plan.

* * * * *

You half expected to wait for Minho to show up, much like your friend did, but much to your surprise, he was waiting for you under the awning when you arrived. “You’re late,” Minho accused, and you grinned sheepishly. You may or may not have lied about the time. Just in case.

“The queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early,” you quipped. Minho rolled his eyes—absolutely what you expected. You giggled, linking your arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk with you.

“Woah,” Minho yanked at his arm, trying to free himself. “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have asked.”

“You’re too much of a grinch, you’d just say no.”

“Exactly. It’s called consent, sweetheart.”

He nearly fell at the sudden freedom when you released him, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets to escape the chill. “Alright, follow me then, you unromantic dork.” He muttered under his breath as you skipped away, having fun despite his attitude. Time to show him what a real date looked like.

Five seconds later, and not even two blocks from the cafe, Minho groaned, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

A pause, then, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you told him, not for the first time. He’d texted you all night, demanding to know, but your lips were sealed.

Except a certain someone seemed determined to annoy the answers out of you. “Are we there yet?”

You sighed, your skip feeling a little less peppy. “No.”

“Are we—”

“Minho,” you ground out. “If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking you to get your nails done.”

“Ok, sure. I could use a bit of pampering,” he said, the epitome of casual.

You stared at him. “This feels like a trick,” you said slowly.

A grin flashed, “That’s because it is. It’s after six, they’re all closed by now.” But then he frowned slightly. “Now you have me wanting a manicure though, I’ve never gotten one.”

Your brows were practically in your hairline but you just nodded. “Ok, another time, then,” you agreed. You caught sight of a familiar street sign and quickened your steps. “Almost there,” you were nearly vibrating in excitement. You felt Minho’s eyes on you, your skin prickling with awareness, but you ignored him in favor of racing around the street corner. And there it was—the zoo! All lit up...all lit…...not lit up at all. Your feet stumbled to a halt.

“So the zoo is open at night now?” Minho inquired at your shoulder.

You gaped at the dark expanse before you. “But where are the lights?” Because indeed, not a single light was on in the zoo. You’d just visited, not too long ago, and they had been open for night visits, so guests could walk around and see the trees all lit up, and wave hello to a few animals in the enclosures.

“Lights?”

“The Christmas lights,” you cried out, frantic. “They were up the last time I was here.”

“You mean a month ago? For Christmas? Back when it was still December?” Minho questioned you. You nearly snapped back before you realized. It was January. February next week. Of course the lights were down, what kind of idiot were you?

You groaned in defeat, slumping against the wall and sliding down to a crouch. You threw your arms over your head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, then. I’m sorry I made you walk all this way,” you mumbled into your knees, wishing you could disappear into the sidewalk. Gosh, and you’d really dragged him along, hadn’t you? He obviously hadn’t been that excited, and all of your mysterious “it’s a surprise” nonsense only made this a bigger disappointment.

“It’s a Friday night, things are still open, you know,” Minho pointed out. “So what if you somehow forgot a whole month happened. I forget the year sometimes.”

“What are you, an old man?” you tried to perk up, but the tease fell flat.

“I’m only twenty-two. You must be ancient.” You picked up your head to look at him. A faint smile curled on his lips as he played along.

“Oh my gosh, I’m your noona. If you’re a grandpa, then I’m practically in the grave,” you forced out a chuckle.

Minho’s smile grew, and he extended a hand. “Come on, get up. Night’s still young.”

For a moment, you simply stared at his hand. Then you met his dark gaze, “You aren’t going to take advantage of this? I thought you hated the whole practice date idea.”

He sighed, wiggling his fingers at you. “I don’t hate spending time with you, alright? Now get up or I’m leaving you here.”

Your mouth twitched, a true smile threatening to form, and not just a cover-up. You slid your hand in his gratefully, and Minho pulled you to your feet with more strength than you thought he had. You blinked at him, realizing he hadn’t let your hand go yet. But the second his eyes followed your gaze, he dropped it, sliding his hands into his pants pockets instead.

“So where to?” Minho asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, remembering a pretty little outdoor skating rink, but the skies cracked open, interrupting you with a sudden deluge. You gasped as the first fat raindrops splattered on your forehead, eyes widening before you made a mad dash for the nearest storefront, Minho already a few steps ahead of you.

You’d barely been in the rain for a minute, but the icy water had your teeth chattering already. Had it been any colder, this would’ve been pretty snow. Instead, you got an arctic firehose.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you peered down the street. Beside you, Minho checked a weather app, hissing through his teeth. “Looks like rain all night,” he muttered.

You groaned again, wanting to cry. You’d completely messed up the evening, first with the lights, and now by not checking the weather. You’d planned an outdoor date, why hadn’t you checked?

A hand brushed your shoulder lightly, barely detectable through your coat. “Um, this might not be what you had planned, but my apartment is actually on this street. Wanna just order pizza?”

Your first instinct was a vehement “no”, but you stopped that answer on the tip of your tongue. Minho wasn’t one of the sleazy guys you’d gone out with in the past, the ones who’d thought an apartment invite was more than that. Plus, this wasn’t a real date or anything. It was a practice date, just pals, nothing crazy about that. So why couldn’t you grab pizza at his place? Especially with the monsoon and a long walk back to your own place. And no umbrella.

You found yourself nodding, shivers wracking your body. Minho’s teeth flashed in another fierce grin, “Alright, sweetheart, let’s make a run for it. In three, two, one—”

The two of you raced down the slick sidewalks, dodging lampposts and puddles alike. You skidded to a stop at one of the apartment buildings, nearly slamming into Minho’s back as he yanked the door open, and the two of you tumbled into the warm lobby. Once out of the wet, Minho shook his head like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere, and you shrieked, hands coming up to protect yourself.

“Sorry,” Minho laughed, not sounding apologetic in the least. “I’m on the sixth floor, so we can take the elevator,” he said, pointing you in the right direction.

The ride up was awkward; the only sound was your jacket zipper rattling from the force of your shivers. Minho unlocked the door to his apartment, waving a hand dramatically. You stepped inside tentatively, toeing off your boots by the door. You watched Minho follow suit, then pad over to a closet along one wall. Your confusion abated when he emerged with towels, passing one to you with raised brows. The two of you were still soaking wet, and you didn’t want to track rainwater all over his apartment.

Minho was already drying his head off one-handed. When he stopped, letting the towel slip down to rest on his shoulders, you giggled at the sight of his hair. He made a face, only adding to the comic effect of his hair standing on end.

“I know you drink coffee, but what about hot tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen while you continued to dab at your clothes.

You nodded enthusiastically, eyeing the space from where you stood in the entryway. It was pretty minimal, not a ton of color or anything, but cozy. Black couch, gray curtains, some photos on the wall. Fairly tidy, but definitely nothing out of a magazine. A meow at your feet interrupted your train of thought, and you looked down to coo at the cats that were slowly approaching. “Well aren’t you gorgeous,” you complimented the bravest of the three, who nosed at your hand gingerly.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho said, pointing at each cat in turn. He leaned on the counter while waiting for the water to boil.

“They’re adorable,” you beamed at him. “And much more friendly.”

“Hey,” he narrowed his eyes. “I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed at him. Your mirth was interrupted by a fierce shiver, reminding you that you might not be dripping wet, but your clothes were still icy cold.

Minho eyed you as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I have sweats you can borrow.”

You started to protest, but the next shudder of cold made you change your mind. Besides, you didn’t want to get his furniture soaking wet. So you nodded and waited while Minho disappeared into the bedroom. You shuffled awkwardly to the kitchen, toes curling in your socks.

Minho reappeared. “Here,” he said, voice gruff. He pressed a pair of sweatpants into your hands, along with a fuzzy looking sweatshirt. Your turtleneck wasn’t too wet, just a little damp along the neckline, but you slid the extra layer over your head gratefully. Before you had to ask him, Minho pointed to a half-open door. “The bathroom. I’m going to get something dry on, too,” he added.

You smiled in relief, escaping to the small bathroom gratefully. As soon as the door was shut, you were scrabbling at the soaking wet denim, peeling it down your legs. You grimaced, not missing this experience at all after the last time. Minho’s sweatpants were soft and oh so warm by comparison. And fleece-lined, too. You slung your jeans over the shower rod to dry, rolled the ankles of your borrowed pants—just enough so you wouldn’t be drowning in excess material—and went in search of that promised hot tea.

You found Minho on the phone in the kitchen. When he noticed you, he waved you closer. “Do you like anything on your pizza?” he asked.

“Um,” you scrambled to collect your thoughts. “Cheese?”

Minho cracked a smile. “Cheese it is then. And peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil,” he rattled off what sounded like an entire grocery list. When he noticed you staring, Minho raised his brows in confusion. You shook your head with a small laugh, leaving him to it. On the counter behind him, you found two mugs, tea bags already steeping. You wrapped your cold fingers around one, humming in contentment. Finally, the shivers stopped.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” Minho asked, but then he froze, grimacing. “Oh shit, sorry. I mean, you can go home if you want. I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t want to stay. I have an umbrella, and you can keep the sweats I guess—”

“Sure how about a romance?” you interrupted him, grabbing your tea and making your way to the couch. You plopped down, eyeing Minho, who was still stiff as a board by the counter. You giggled at him, “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from Mr. Darcy.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor. An indignant expression wiped away any trace of sheepishness, and he stomped over to find the remote. “Yeah right,” he scoffed. “I’m not watching a romance.”

“A romantic comedy then,” you decided, snatching the remote out of his hands.

He grabbed it back, lightning quick. “Action.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Drama. Fight me and I’ll demand a Hallmark movie.”

Minho smirked, “Fight me and I’ll make it a horror movie.”

You groaned in disgust, glaring at him. “Ok, fine, let’s fight over it. Rock, paper, scissors?”

He rolled his eyes, but ended up on the couch beside you, holding one fist out to meet yours. “Best out of three,” he smirked. “Get ready for a zombie fest.”

After a crushing defeat, Minho slumped on the couch, moaning dramatically when you selected Pride and Prejudice. You giggled at the grumpy man beside you, and his similarity to Mr. Darcy. Most notably their matching pouts.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t interrupt the movie once. Sure, he grumbled at first, but when you snuck a peek at him after about half an hour, you caught him watching intently.

You’d seen the movie at least a dozen times by now, but you still couldn’t resist the pull, and your heart fluttered at the brush of hands the way it did every time. Your breath caught at every interaction, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away to save your life. Until the pizza arrived, at least. You were about to press play, two slices at the ready, when Minho looked over at you. “Why are you so in love with the idea of love?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a moment, taken aback. “What?”

“Not just the movie, but real life,” he said, twisting to face you fully. “Why are you so determined to find Mr. Right? Or to set me up on the perfect date?”

“Don’t you want to find someone?” you questioned him, backing away from the question. “You can’t possibly be putting up with me just to avoid your mom playing matchmaker. I’m literally no better than that.”

He scoffed, “You haven’t met my mother.”

“Maybe I should team up with her.”

“Oh please no.”

You grinned, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Oh please yes,” you teased. “Two matchmakers are better than one.”

Minho shot you an unimpressed look. “I told her I already have a girlfriend, but I felt bad lying to her, so I’m hanging out with you instead.”

You nearly choked on your pizza. So you were a pity friend, great. Or worse, you weren’t even real friends, you were just a convenient excuse to alleviate Minho’s guilt complex. You set the slice back down, no longer hungry.

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right? That was a joke. I’m sarcastic all the time, remember?” Minho nudged you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Minho sighed, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours. “I might not love the matchmaking, or this dumb movie, but I guess I’m glad we bumped into each other so I could tell you to dump ghost boy from Tinder.” You snorted, biting back a small smile. Noticing this, Minho forged ahead, “And this better not be part of the act to get me to forget my first question, because you still haven’t answered.”

“Minho,” you whined. “Why does it matter?”

“Pretend it’s girls night. We’re practically having a sleepover, minus the nail polish and braids. This is the part where we talk about boys,” he smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Do we need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You next?”

Your brows rose. “I thought you didn’t like romance, how do you even know that movie?”

“.....No reason. Now answer the question already,” he huffed.

You sighed, curling up on your end of the couch. “I guess it’s just something I’m not good at, so I can’t help wanting it to fall in my lap,” you said. “I can’t pull all nighters to find love, that’s not how it works.”

“Well no, studying isn’t the answer,” Minho agreed.

“My parents have the kind of love I want. I’m not rosy-eyed or anything, I know it’s hard work and commitment. But the friendship—that’s what I love the most.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, Minho chewing on your words. And you mused on your recent attempts to find a partner. Perhaps dating apps weren’t the way to go, you admitted. Not to Minho, though. He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Maybe,” Minho started. “You should look for new friends instead of new boyfriends.”

“What do you think this is?” you laughed. “I’ve been setting you up, not looking on Tinder or whatever for myself.”

“Good, you’ve wasted enough time on those trash apps already,” he groused.

You grinned at him, “So I guess you don’t want me to start looking for Bumble girls, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

You giggled, but Minho pressed play on the movie before you could tease him any more. To your surprise, he looked as interested in the ending as you were. You doubted he was misty-eyed like you, though.

A yawn snuck up on you, and you glanced at the clock in surprise. How had it gotten so late? “I should probably be going,” you started.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” Minho grabbed your dishes to bring to the sink, snatching them right out of your hands. You blinked after him, then shrugged, making your way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, your jeans were still damp, but they’d be fine for the walk home. You squeezed yourself back into the denim, emerging with the borrowed sweatpants. “Laundry?” you asked, since Minho was busy with the dishes.

“Just inside the bedroom, next to the door,” he gestured with his chin, hands still sudsy.

You slid the sweatshirt off as well, placing both in the hamper by the door. Despite your curiosity, you didn’t linger, but you caught a glimpse of an equally tidy bedroom. And a large bed with dark sheets. Why was your heart pounding? Mr. Darcy hadn’t been that distracting. You shook your head, hurrying out of the room. Only then you came face-to-face with Minho, and you had to fight a blush. What on earth was wrong with you?

The awkwardness continued, and you felt strange and itchy the whole walk home with Minho. You were hyper aware of how close you were under the umbrella, of the way your elbows brushed every few steps. Minho was surprisingly quiet, as well. Ordinarily, he’d be making fun of you by now.

As you walked the last block together, you tilted your head to look at him. “So tonight was a fail,” you said.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“The practice date?” you giggled at his expression. “Total failure.”

Minho’s frown deepened, “I thought it was fun. Even if you made me watch a period drama.”

“Oh no, it was wonderful, but the date part of it was a bust. We need to do another, since tonight doesn’t count,” you told him, slowing to a stop in front of your building’s entrance.

“Well what does count?” Minho asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

“Hmm, something in public. No one ever does a private first date, and obviously that’s what you need the most help with,” you sassed. “Maybe I’ll kick your ass in laser tag or something.”

“Maybe I should beat you in bowling,” Minho retorted.

You hummed, tapping a finger off your chin. “You might be onto something, actually. How about you come up with our next practice date. That’s your homework.”

“Since when is this a class? With homework assignments?” Minho demanded.

“Oh shut it, or I’m making profiles for you on every dating app I know.”

* * * * *

You looked over at Minho, suspicion tugging at you. “So when you said you should beat me at bowling, did you mean it?”

“I’m going to try and win at whatever we do, I’m competitive like that,” Minho said, holding the door open for you.

“No, I mean, are you secretly a professional bowler or something?” you corrected, making your way towards the shoe rental.

Minho chuckled, “I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say.”

You opened your mouth to object, but decided he was right. “You better not be hustling me,” you threatened, slapping cash down on the counter.

“Pay per game or pay per hour?” the attendant asked.

Minho cheekily slid a few bills beside yours. “Best out of three?”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, watching as the attendant took his money instead of yours.

At least Minho looked just as goofy as you did. The brightly colored bowling shoes looked very out of place against his “cool guy” outfit. You’d already poked fun at him. Who showed up to a date wearing sweats? Not that he looked bad in them, but you had at least dressed up a bit. Then again, you might not have worn a dress if you had known that bowling was on the agenda. You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater dress, feeling a bit out of place as you looked at all of the other couples. Jeans, slacks, more jeans...why had you decided to dress up? You should’ve known Minho would pick something casual.

“Hey, you wanna go first, or should I?” Minho’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you shook the negativity away gratefully.

“You go ahead,” you called over to him, trying to find a smile. What were you so worked up about? It’s not like this was a real date. You could have shown up in a potato sack if you wanted, you weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all Minho. On that thought, maybe he had the better idea after all. You eyed his sweatpants enviously. You knew how comfy they were, and they’d doubtless be better than the tights you were terrified of ripping.

“Ok sweetheart, prepare for a thrashing,” Minho joked, selecting a bowling ball from the rack.

“You prepare for a thrashing,” you countered, despite knowing it was an empty threat. You probably needed the bumpers if you wanted anything but gutter balls. Then you caught sight of the names on the board. “Did you seriously make my nickname ‘Loser’? What are we, five?”

Minho smirked as he passed you. “We’ve been over this, I’m a grandpa, you’ve got one foot in the grave. Childish antics are beneath us,” he said with a laugh.

“So you’re ‘Lee Know’?” you inquired, curious about his chosen nickname.

Minho turned to face you, tilting his head. “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

“...Am I supposed to call you that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Call me whatever you want. Just not ‘asshole’,” he joked. Your heart warmed, and a true smile found its way to your lips. You watched as Minho wiggled a little, eyeing the pins at the end of the lane. Then, to your utmost surprise, he turned around and rolled the ball between his legs.

“What?” you choked on a laugh, nearly falling over at the sight. Minho backed up, and you both watched as the ball rolled down the lane, painfully slow. It ended up knocking down half of the pins, much to your surprise. Minho just looked proud as he picked up another ball. Miracle of miracles, he wound up with a spare.

You had no words, didn’t even bother trying to explain how his technique had any sort of success. Your own attempt was...pitiful by comparison. Your form looked good, but both balls wound up in the gutter in a matter of seconds.

Minho didn’t waste the opportunity to gloat. “Told you I’d beat you at bowling,” he said with a wink.

You grumbled, flopping down onto the bench next to him. “I didn’t expect you to be successful at the toddler technique.”

“Give it a go, maybe we’ll change your nickname if you win,” he laughed, getting up for his turn.

Halfway through the game, you even tried the ‘toddler technique’. This was also a fail, made worse with the mortifying realization that your underwear would be visible if you bent over too far. When your attempt ended up in the gutter, you resolved to get bumpers for the next game.

But Minho had other plans. You had just approached the lane when you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Keep your wrist straight, you keep twisting it at the last second,” he said.

You turned to face him, finding him close behind you. “Anything else, wise one?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he smiled at you. This close, you could swear his eyes were twinkling. “We can both go get bumpers next round, I need them almost as much as you. I’m amazed at my own streak of luck tonight.”

“I’m terrible at bowling,” you whined, looking away from him. Your cheeks felt warm. Gosh, it was embarrassing to be this bad.

“We can go do something else, we don’t even need to finish this game, let alone all three. As long as you’re having fun, I’m happy.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but looked away quickly. He was watching you so intently, the flush burned hotter, threatening to run down your neck. “I’m sorry you paid for so many games. We can definitely finish them, it’s fine—”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Minho murmured. You looked at him in surprise, surprised to hear him sounding sincere rather than snarky. “Otherwise, I’d be a shitty friend, wouldn’t I?”

“Right, yeah. An asshole friend,” you agreed, nearly stumbling over the words.

“Ok, I’ll let you focus on your first strike of the night. Don’t overthink it,” he reminded you, walking back to the bench.

You nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in your stomach that reminded you of disappointment. And you sank another one right into the gutter.

Minho’s solution to the bowling fiasco was consolation ice cream. Somewhat surprising, since a part of you had expected him to gloat. Instead, he talked about anything and everything but bowling, entertaining you while you both sat at the window of the local shop. You simply watched him, enraptured. He had hardly opened up at all to you at first. Visiting his apartment felt like the first peek into the real Minho. The happy memories captured in picture frames, the handmade mementos here and there on shelves, all hints as to the soft interior of your once-prickly friend. Now he was regaling you with stories of his best friends—brothers, by the sound of it. Loving rivalry, playful banter, sibling torment. And the look on his face...pride. He was proud of them, his family.

Then you paused, tilted your head to look at him anew. When had Minho stopped being prickly? Where was the cynical, negative, angsty boy you’d befriended, partly out of spite? When had he stopped trying to hold you back with barbed wire edges?

When Minho caught your gaze, he lifted one brow, mouth twitching into a crooked smile. “See something you like?” he sassed you. But his remark was devoid of bitterness. It wasn’t mocking, it was warm, inviting. It was asking you to join in on the joke.

“Yeah,” you said softly. Then you turned up the wattage on your smile, grinning widely at him. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Minho rolled his eyes at your antics, spinning his ice cream cone between his fingers. But hidden behind your grin was more than a little truth.

* * * * *

You knocked on the door, stepping back tentatively. You could hear raucous laughter on the other side, which would ordinarily have you curious, maybe a little excited to join in. Not tonight. Right now, standing in the hallway outside Minho’s apartment, you were nervous as hell. And on top of it all, you were nearly an hour late, having dragged your feet the whole way there.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, shifting from foot to foot. It felt like meeting the parents, which was dumb. Firstly, you and Minho were not dating. Secondly, these were his best friends, not his parents. And thirdly, you and Minho were good friends. You had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.

Which was why you were currently worrying all over the place about meeting Minho’s best friends. What if they hated you? Or worse, what if they pitied you? You thought you’d disappear into a crack in the earth if that happened.

Before you could spend too long contemplating your inevitable end, the door swung open, and a boy came rushing out at you. You gasped, jumping back before he could run into you.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” he blurted, skidding to a stop, then immediately taking off running down the hallway.

You blinked in confusion, but your eyes only widened when a second boy came barrelling out of the apartment after the first. “Minho?”

Minho paused briefly, eyes alighting on your stiff figure. “Hi! Um, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be right back. Go on in,” he waved at you, breaking into a jog, and then a sprint.

Immensely confused, you peered into the apartment, now that the door was wide open. Now or never, you told yourself firmly. Easing through the doorway, you caught sight of six more boys in various states of chaos. Upon noticing your entrance, they all froze. “Uh, hello there,” came a voice on your right. You looked over to see two boys in the kitchen, appearing to be mid-struggle with a bag of popcorn. “You must be Minho’s friend, he said you’d be coming.”

You gave a tiny wave, pasting on a sunshine smile. “Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you, I think? Should I be concerned about the escapee?”

Popcorn boy number two laughed, arms bulging as he ripped open the bag. “Oh no, Hyunjin will be fine. Minho hasn’t made him eat toilet paper in years, he’s above that now.” You must have looked concerned, because the boy chuckled again, waving you off. “It’s all empty threats with that one. Mostly. I’m Changbin, by the way.”

Popcorn boy number one stepped forward, extending a hand to shake. “I’m Chan, and this is our menagerie of chaos. Let me introduce you to everyone,” he offered. You grinned at him, relieved.

By the time Minho returned, practically dragging Hyunjin with him, you were giggling on the couch with the rest of the boys, embroiled in a fierce MarioKart race. With Hyunjin still trapped in a headlock, Minho paused to watch. You just barely caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, too focused on staying on the track. Jeongin had chosen Rainbow Road for your first match, and you were determined to crush them in the dust. Even if it had been several years since you last played.

You watched as your character was knocked off the edge, a cry of dismay falling from your lips. “Dang it, I wasn’t even in first place, what gives?”

Han grinned victoriously, only to cry out when he accidentally drove over the edge as well. “Friends fall together?” he joked.

“You made me go ziplining. Alone,” Minho said, announcing his presence at last.

“Uhhhh,” Han fumbled for an excuse. “You love me anyway, though, right?”

Before Minho could retort, Seungmin stood up. “You can play next, if you want,” he offered.

The rest of you blinked at him in surprise, before looking at his screen and realizing he’d already won the race. Jeongin groaned dramatically, flailing on the couch as he came in second. You and Han just gave up entirely, letting your characters fall off the track once more. Meanwhile, Minho finally decided to release Hyunjin, and the blonde escaped to the other end of the couch, diving into a bowl of chips like nothing had happened.

Felix looked excited, so you tossed him your remote for the next round. “I believe I was promised food,” you said, arching an eyebrow in Minho’s direction.

“I believe I told you to arrive at six,” he fired back, stalking towards you. He finally stopped a foot away, looming over you.

You smirked at him, “What did I tell you on our first date?”

The room went silent, and you froze, realizing your mistake. “You guys are dating and you didn’t tell us?” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Oh yeah, real fancy dates, too. We had dinner at the Eiffel tower last week,” Minho drawled. “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?” The cherry on top was when he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek.

A stranger might have mistaken his dry tone for sincerity, but everyone in the room knew Minho’s humor well. Half of the group dissolved into giggles. Changbin rolled his eyes and threw a pillow, but Minho caught it before it could smack into you. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” Changbin joked.

“All those promises and no follow through,” Han clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval, then ducked when Minho tossed the pillow at him next.

Your cheeks threatened to catch on fire again. The situation only worsened when you met Minho’s dark gaze, his eyes ensnaring you. “So,” you threw out desperately, clapping your hands together. “The food? Or am I going to starve? Not very boyfriend-like,” you tried to laugh. The joke must have been convincing, because the boys merely chuckled, going back to their game.

Minho still hadn’t moved from where he stood over you. Instead of moving back so you could get up, he extended a hand. You bit your lip, teeth digging in, but you placed your hand in his rather than make a scene. The last thing you wanted was more attention, especially with your cheeks warming up past their usual temperature.

Fortunately, he released you as soon as you regained your footing. Your fingers flexed lightly, hand falling back to your side. You kept your chin high as you followed Minho to the kitchen, ignoring the prickling feeling that the boys were still watching you.

“Pizza?” you blurted out, incredulous. “Don’t you eat anything else?”

Minho snorted, leaning against the counter. “For the record, I do know how to cook.”

You snooped in the fridge, disbelieving. “Of course, all evidence points to you being a five star chef,” you said, casting a pointed look at the empty shelves within.

He chuckled, folding his arms while he watched you investigate. “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to cook for you, all you had to do was ask.”

You hummed, closing the refrigerator once more. “I’m kinda afraid you’ll burn something, to be honest,” you teased, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and selecting a slice of now-cold pizza. You popped the pizza in the microwave, then relaxed against the counter opposite Minho. He was still watching you intently, and you frowned. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked him.

Minho shook his head wordlessly. Self-consciousness took hold, and you looked down awkwardly, brushing your hair behind one ear. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said. I totally didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half smile.

You tipped your chin again, unable to look at him for long. Even if Minho seemed to forgive your blunder, you still couldn’t believe you’d blurted that out. Your hair fell in front of your face again, and you let it, happy to hide behind the locks.

Then another pair of feet appeared a few inches from yours. Plain black socks next to your patterned ones, covered in cartoon rainbows. Then a butterfly touch along the side of your face, soft enough that you almost doubted the sensation. You lifted your gaze, but this time, Minho’s eyes weren’t on yours. Instead, his laser focus was directed on the hair he was gently situating behind your ear again.

You realized you had forgotten to breathe when he finally took a step back, and your lungs remembered to inflate.

“For the record, you’re right,” Minho said softly. “The queen is never late.”

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Minho’s friends started leaving. You eyed the clock, then went to grab your shoes as well. “I better get going, I want to get home sometime before dawn,” you joked.

“How close do you live? Are you taking the bus?” Chan asked, worry evident in his tone.

You waved him off, “I’m just a few blocks away, not too long of a walk. Bus doesn’t run after ten or so, anyway.”

Chan frowned, but Minho cut him off before he could say anything. “I was going to walk her home, it’s pretty late.”

That was a surprise to you, but seemed to alleviate Chan’s concern. The others waved goodbye on their way out, Chan following them. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shooting you a quick grin before closing the door behind him.

“You really don’t have to,” you started.

“I want to. It’s late,” Minho reminded you.

“I didn’t argue last time, but I didn’t want to steal your umbrella.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not some little girl in need of protection. It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”

Minho didn’t look up, busy tying his shoes. “I like walking.”

“At midnight?”

“Any time of day, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you walk Jeongin home, too?”

“Sure did. He moved in with Han, though, so I don’t anymore,” he said simply. “You don’t have a roommate. If no one’s there to make sure you get home safe, I want to walk with you.”

You gaped at him, unable to fault his logic. And not really wanting to. “Thanks,” you murmured, scuffing one shoe into the floor.

Minho stood up again, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t mention it,” he said, snagging his keys. “After you.”

Walking home with Minho, you were reminded of the first time. Then, you’d been so awkward, quiet. Unsure of yourself. You’d been worried that you were some kind of pity friend at first, but after getting to know Minho, you knew that wasn’t the case. And now that you’d grown comfortable around each other, you could hardly get him to shut up. Even now, he was talking about his dance team’s newest choreo, his words running together from excitement.

You smiled, just listening. This was all you really wanted, if you let yourself admit it. The Tinder dates were just a shit attempt at finding someone to sit and listen to for hours. You wanted movie nights and quiet mornings with someone who cared about you. You wanted a cute little house and kids and a dog. Maybe a cat. Maybe three.

Shit.

You were so wrapped up in your realization that you didn’t realize you’d reached your apartment building until Minho snagged your elbow to pull you to a stop. “This isn’t a midnight hike, where do you think you’re going?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed nervously, “Oh, sorry, I was pretty lost in thought.”

“Apparently. Were you listening to a word I said? Some friend you are,” he snorted.

Friend. Right. Your realization didn’t mean much. Why were you surprised? You hadn’t had luck in the romantic department in years, why would that change now? Minho was your friend, and it was obvious that his opinion of you wasn’t going to change. Why would it? He was way out of your league.

Gosh, now you felt like a fool. You’d really just daydreamed about a happily ever after with him. Why did you ever bother getting your hopes up? You were always bound for disappointment. Hadn’t your crappy dates taught you anything?

Minho called your name, bringing you back down to reality. “Sorry,” you muttered, fumbling in your bag to find your keys.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Shoot, now he sounded concerned.

You pasted a sunny smile on your face, “Totally fine. Thank you for walking me back. I won’t keep you any longer.”

You turned away to walk up the steps, but the smile fell as soon as he was out of sight. How were you only just coming to the realization that you were halfway—or perhaps all the way—in love with him? His face was burned into your mind’s eye. Brows furrowed in confusion, slight pout, and those damned eyes. You’d probably been in love with his eyes from the beginning.

“I only agreed to let you play matchmaker so I could see you again.”

You stopped at the top of the steps, not quite believing your ears. Turning slightly, you looked at Minho over your shoulder.

Once he had your attention, he continued, “I bailed on the date with your friend because I knew you’d yell at me.”

Lips parting in surprise, you turned to face him fully. Minho put a foot on the first step, gaze locked on yours. You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his mouth softened into a slight smile.

“I was going to do the classic move of teaching you to bowl, but I chickened out,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“What are you...why are you telling me this?” you asked, fingers curling nervously.

He ascended another step, “You only smile like that when you’re sad. When you start getting in your own head about what you deserve.” Another step, “And I’m tired of hiding.”

Now he was only two steps away. Close enough to touch, if you dared to reach out. You didn’t. “We’re friends,” you said, voice small.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed. Then he bit his lip, drawing your attention like bees to honey. You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes firmly. When you opened them, Minho was on the step just below you. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low. You didn’t.

Your breath stuttered to a stop, your whole body stilling at the electric shock of his lips on yours. For a moment, you were frozen, utterly focused on the whisper of a touch. Then Minho pulled away, and you could breathe again, gasping for air. But you didn’t want it to be over. Your eyes fluttered open, finding his dark gaze melting into you.

This time, you let yourself fall into him, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said this was a fantasy. He caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming to your jawline. He ascended that final step, pulling your body into his. His lips were plush, a little dry. Real. Minho was here, warm under your fingertips.

His hand slid up into your hair, slowly enough to make you shiver. You sighed into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your arms as his fingers gently tugged the strands. And then his mouth opened beneath you, and you let yourself tumble into sensation, drowning in him.

You don’t know how long you kissed, but your heart was racing when you finally came up for air. Minho panted, little breaths puffing against your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, the weight somehow grounding you.

“Do you understand now?” Minho’s voice was hoarse, deeper than before. You shivered, just a bit, and the corner of his lips twitched up.

You couldn’t find words, unable to string any coherent thoughts together. And you didn’t really want to, happy to have your mind all to yourself, no doubts in sight. You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose. He scrunched his face up, making you giggle. But you needed to know one thing. “Are we—are things different now?”

“We’re dating. Unless you don’t want that,” he backtracked, eyes wide.

You grinned at him. “I do.”

He heaved out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I thought I really fucked up there.”

Now you really laughed, head falling forward to rest on his chest. Minho’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer than you thought was possible. You could hear his heartbeat, thudding just as fast as yours.

“You said the friendship was your favorite part of love,” Minho mused. You hummed in agreement, nodding against him. “Well I hope you don’t get sick of me. I hear I’m pretty annoying.”

“Minho,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you just rolled your eyes at me,” he teased.

“Well, you are annoying. But I suppose it’s a part of your charm.”

He chuckled, “So that means you like my jokes?”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t push it.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#skz fanfic #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #lee know #skz minho #skz lee know #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #skz minho x reader #minho x reader #lee know fic #skz fic #skz one shot

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pollyrepents · 3 years

Text

love will make us

Warnings: John changes a diaper (puts on a show about it) and references sex.

Summary: making the most of the mundane with your gangster husband

Word Count: 2.5k of blatant favoritism

A/N: part two to the love language series! Quality time! i love john shelby! No real moment in time this is set, john’s still kicking. the teething moment is inspired by @hb-writes ‘s fic The Baby Whisperer

Arthur | Tommy | Ada | Finn | Polly

“Come sleep with me: We won't make Love, Love will make us.”

― Julio Cortázar

You listened to the baby in your arms babble to herself, her own incoherent language making her fall into a fit of giggles. You paced the floor for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and she kicked her legs, her attention turned to the stuffed bunny she had thrown to the floor.

“Is that it? Is this what you want?” You inquired, bending down to grab the toy. She immediately pulled it to her mouth, her nose wrinkling as she bit down on the fabric as hard as a teething baby could. You brushed down her curls, cooing as she pressed her face against your chest. “I know, sweet girl. Daddy’s going to be home soon and he’ll have the syrup that’ll make it all better.” You promised, smiling as her mumbling renewed around the soft fabric of the toy, gums rubbing against it.

She began to whimper and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, the telltale sign of her nose scrunching up allowing you a moment to brace yourself for the noise. She began to cry again, her head thrown against your shoulder in a dramatic display of her discomfort. You sighed and started to rock in place, thankful that her siblings had evacuated the house to play with the other children in the lane. A house full of Shelby’s who could talk and walk was chaos enough, the tribulation that came along with teething would only drive complaints. Even your ever patient and curious Katie had had enough, wrinkling her nose at her little sister and shaking her head when you asked if she wanted to hold her to help her calm down.

The heavy front door swung open, thudding against the wall loudly before slamming shut. You peeked around the wall, the sight of John shrugging off his coat as he made his way toward you filling you with gratitude.

He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your cheek as he passed, making his way to the kitchen. “Why’s my girl making all that noise,eh? I can hear her out on the lane.”

“You gave her those Shelby lungs. She’s using them” You rubbed her back in soothing circles, bouncing her softly. “You missed her giggling. She was laughing up a storm by herself.” You glanced up at John’s peaked cap and he swiftly removed it, tucking it into his back pocket. “I think waiting for the teeth has made her delirious. She’s gone absolutely silly.”

“Have they?” He leaned down and narrowed his eyes at the whimpering baby, his own smile threatening to break his serious demeanor. “They made you silly, did they?”

She hiccupped, hiding her warm face against your neck.

“They’ve made me delirious.” You tutted, running a fingertip lightly down her spine. “Up at the crack of dawn and she hasn’t been down for a moment since. The moment you left her bum was sitting up in that bassinet, just waiting.”

“Let me see them then, pretty. Let’s have a look at the teeth causing all this trouble.” He tipped her chin back, gently pushing her cheeks together with his index finger and thumb. The chubby legs against your stomach began to kick excitedly and she began to giggle, her nose scrunching up. John cooed and inspected her dribbling mouth, laughing at the tiny snort that left the child.

“She’s really lost it.” John agreed, fingers tickling at her neck. “No teeth and all that noise about it.”

“Linda says when she was waiting on Billy’s teeth a little bit of syrup helped her.” You rose an eyebrow, using your free hand to reach into his pocket.

“But there’s nothin’ in there yet.” He pulled the baby up under her arms, covering her cheeks in stubbly kisses. “My girl ought to be out there running with her brothers and sisters.” He bounced her on his hip and she gripped his pinstriped shirt, squealing happily. “All that noise can keep them in check.”

“Try and put her down for a nap.” You stretched your sore arms, feeling the slight burn from being in motion for so long. “She’ll be a riot during dinner if she doesn’t get her nap in.”

“When is she not a riot?” John stretched her above his head, grinning as she began to babble downwards toward him. She spotted you, squealing and squirming in his hand with renewed vigor

“John, not so high.” You scolded, patting his side in passing. “You better have that damn syrup somewhere.”

“Coat pocket. Straight from Polly Gray. She sends her best.” He affirmed, holding the baby eye level. His eyebrows pinched together and he pressed his nose to her round belly and sniffed, pulling back“Oi!”

“What, John?” You made a face, trying to measure out the thick syrup on a teaspoon spoon. “You’re going to make me spill-”

“She took a fuckin shit.”

“Babies do that.” You nodded, intensely focused on the spoon. “All day.”

“You need to-”

“I’ve been changing her all day.” You tried not to smile, seeing John’s face of disgust from the corner of your eye. “You’re holding her, your turn.”

“I just got home!”

“And I just gave her to you.

John scoffed, “You knew she shit already!”

“I didn’t, I swear!” You laughed lightly. “Bring her here, she needs the syrup.”

“Syrup and a nappy change.” He scoffed, trying to hand the baby off. You took a step back, trying to spoon the syrup into the child’s mouth from a distance. She let out a whine and John quickly pulled her close, pressing his thumb against her chin to keep her mouth shut. She scrunched up her nose and the two of you watched her carefully. As soon as she let out a sharp cry you dropped the spoon into the sink and took a few steps back, smiling at John.

“You can at least fucking hold her down while I change her then.” He grumbled, his lips against the crown of her head. “Wild little thing, she is.”

“Deal.”

“Go get set up a nappy, then.” He glared at you, trying to hide his smile in your daughter’s hair. As you passed him his hand left the baby’s back and swatted your behind.

“John!” You yelped, rubbing at your backside. “You’re so heavy fucking handed!”

“Never complained before.”

“You’re holding our baby!” You tried your best attempt at a scowl as he began to ready your daughter for changing. You pulled her changing blanket over the dresser, placing a hand over her belly when John laid her down on her back.

She looked up at you, already whimpering and trying to turn onto her belly so she could crawl away. You cooed softly, turning her back onto her back and leaning down to kiss her freckled nose. “I know, daddy’s so slow, my love.”

“If mummy has a problem she can change your smelly arse herself.” John gagged dramatically as he folded up the dirty nappy, holding your daughter’s kicking legs down with one hand as she attempted her routine grand escape. “For fuck’s sake-”

“She’s a baby. This is torture for her.” You covered her ears, pouting at her as she hiccupped while he wiped. “How was work?”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath before leaning back down to pull a new nappy from the drawers. “Long. Busy. Stop moving, you. Not making it easier on yourself.”He pinned her nappy back in place, fingers scribbling lightly at her bare stomach. She erupted into high pitched giggles, kicking chubby feet at her father. “What did you do all day? Miss me?”

“Never.” You rebuttoned the baby’s onesie before John scooped her up to hold her close. “Some reading and chores. I should have gotten dinner started when the troops went out, but someone-” You pinched the baby’s cheek lightly and she pressed herself against John, suddenly shy. “Kept me occupied.”

“Can’t blame her for that.” John walked into the kitchen, already starting to put pans on the counter. “I’d want to be on you every chance I got too.” He adjusted the child in his arms and walked over to the bassinet in the living room. He settled her down and you watched fondly, only catching the end of what he mumbled to her.

“Put up a fight in there, eh.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her head before standing up. “Mummy and I have mummy and daddy things to do.”

You couldn’t help a laugh as he waggled his eyebrows, making his way toward you.

“Dinner, John.” You reminded, quirking your own eyebrow.

“But I’ve been away all day.” He protested.

“So have the kids.I sent them out after lunch..” You turned toward the counter, beginning to wash the vegetables that needed to be rinsed and skinned. “I bet they’ll have an appetite when they get back.”

“But I’ve been away from you all day.” His warm breath tickled your skin as he leaned down slightly to kiss along the skin of your neck.

“You have,” Your fingers gripped the carrot, dragging the knife downward toward the counter and pulling up the skin. “I worked up an appetite.”

“Doin what? Waiting on me to get home?” His voice was teetering on the roughness you loved, low and rumbling out of his chest against your back.

You turned toward him, lips just brushing his as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You leaned in, taking his ear lobe between your teeth for a brief second before whispering, “cleaning your teething daughter’s shitty nappies.”

John pulled away from you, unamused.

“Grab some potatoes, and get to cooking, Mr Shelby.” You chopped the narrow end off of the carrot, smiling at your handiwork.

The quieter moments came when the kids were in bed, on the couch.

Whiskey and John and heat, his heavy head on your lap. He read aloud the same book you read to the kids, a preview to make sure nothing in the next chapter was too scary. Your eyes attempted to focus on the newspaper on the arm of the couch beside you, fingers absentmindedly carding through his cropped hair.

“I have never seen him. But I spoke to him as he sat behind his screen and gave him your message. He said he will grant you an audience, if you so desire; but each one of you must enter his presence alone, and he will admit but one each day.” John cleared his throat as your fingers paused, blue eyes flicking away from the novel in his hands. You looked down at him and smiled slightly, beginning your ministrations again. “Therefore, as you must remain in the Palace for several days, I will have you shown to rooms where you may rest in comfort after your journey.”

“It sounds like your fucking brother.” You muttered, eyes on the day’s printed paper before you.

“No it doesn’t.” John’s eyes closed momentarily, finger saving his spot in the book.

“Sure it does.” You scratched at his scalp in slow circles. “We wait and wait and hope he’ll have some news that won’t kill you. That won’t put a bullet in you.”

“What do you want me to tell him, eh? My woman doesn’t want me doing the hard stuff anymore?” He made a move to sit up and you pressed your palm to the middle of his chest, stopping his movement.

“Your woman wants you to be okay.” You briefly tugged his hair once, sharply, making him look up at you. “He keeps tapping into that temper of yours and I think it’ll kill you.”

“Nothing’s happening to me yet.” His hand lifted to squeeze your side gently, his hands heavy against the fabric of your nightdress. “I’m not going first. I’ll live forever, I think.”

“I’ll kill Tommy if I have to.” You began rubbing his scalp again. “If it means you do live forever.”

“The little ones will run circles around you tomorrow.” John sat up, rubbing a hand over his own hair. His tone was sharper now, the conversation over with. “maybe we should go to bed.”

“They won’t, because you’ll be home.” You fingered the page of the paper. “Because it’s your daughter’s birthday.”

“Fuck.” He rubbed his hand over his face, looking at you with tired eyes in the warm light of the fire. “Alright, c’mon.”

“I’m still reading the paper-”You pulled your legs up onto the couch as John’s arm looped under your knees, attempting to stop him. “John-”

“Don’t start your hollering, you’ll wake the fuckin kids.” He grunted. He stood up, lifting you into his arms bridal style. He tightened his grip the moment you began to slip and clicked his tongue at you. “Enough, Y/N, let me-”

“Your bones are creaking, old man!” You tried to get down, afraid of John dropping you or hurting himself. “John, you’ll pull something-”

“Yup, so stop making it fucking hard.” He grumbled, his voice slightly strained. He leaned down slightly so you could reach the table, nodding toward the whiskey bottle and the discarded novel. “Grab em, will you.”

“God forbid John Shelby go without his whiskey-watch it!” You yelped as he dropped you rather ungracefully on the bed, tucking your tight curls behind your ear.

“With my wife comes my whiskey.” He uncorked the bottle, taking a sip and handing it off to you again. John stripped himself of his trousers and button down, leaving him in boxers and an undershirt. He nodded toward the book again, digging around the bedside drawer.

“Don’t smoke in bed.” You reprimanded, knowing there was no use most of the time.

“Start reading, then.” He tossed his lighter back into the drawer and the corner of your lip turned upwards at your small victory. “Give me something to do.”

You squinted at the page, the letters out of focus and small. John reached his hand out, your thin framed glasses in his palm.

You began to protest, “I can see just fine! I don’t need-

“Just put the fuckin things on, please.” He tossed them in your lap and came to lie down beside you. “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Fine.” You shoved the frames onto your nose, batting John’s hand away as he reached out to pinch your cheek.

“You look so sweet like that.” he cooed. “Like a sweet old teacher. I’d be sweet on you.”

You scoffed, eyes scanning the page.“Prick.”

“Maybe if you ask nice.” John smirked beside you, tugging you down by your waist to rest against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the pulse point behind your ear, nuzzling his stubbly cheek and chin against your skin.

“Alright-I found it!” You giggled, bringing your shoulder up to block him. You elbowed him in the side and he snorted. “Behave-and listen! I want to make sure this book won’t scare Sarah and Katie.”

You cleared your throat, shifting your position so you were leaned against him, the book visible to both of you. He pulled the covers up, tucking them in around your waist as you began to read, “Thank you,’ replied the girl ‘that is very kind of Oz.”

#peaky blinders #john shelby #peaky blinders fic #john shelby fluff #kind of?#john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby/reader #john shelby/you #fluff #written by me #tommy shelby #linda shelby #mentioned I mean but still #this feels not very good but I am very tired so if mindless john fluff is what this is #Is that really such a crime?

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peakyxtommy · 3 years

Text

Kidnapped - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and his wife are going to have their first baby in a week. She gets kidnapped due to Tommy’s business dealings. He has to find her and their unborn baby in time. (Requested By: @babylooneytoonz)

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mild Violence

A/N: Sorry this took me so long to complete. Thank you so much for your patience, greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy this and I really enjoyed writing this!!

It was starting to get colder in Birmingham, as December was almost here with Christmas right around the corner. You had one week left until it was time to give birth to the growing baby in your stomach. You couldn’t have been happier for the arrival of your first born son. When you found out the news you were excited and a little nervous to tell Tommy, unsure of what his reaction was going to be. After the initial shock of the words left your mouth, he was just as happy as you to have his baby. He drove you just as wild as you drove him during these past almost nine months.

You put up with his over-protectiveness of always having someone travel with you where you went, having to let the maids help more than usual, and helping him deal with his doubts about becoming a father. Always reminding him of how much you trusted him and how he cared his best but showed it differently than others. He dealt with your morning sickness, cravings, mood swings of where you’d get angry with him over small things, sad over things that were normal or didn’t make you cry before, and your changing body which he always made sure you felt loved and comfortable in whatever you were wearing. He was sweet, supportive, and helpful as much as he could be through the whole pregnancy.

Today was no different as you found yourself getting a little fussy and annoyed with how cleaned and prepared everything was becoming for the arrival of the baby. Being stuck in the house the past few days because of the snow didn’t help. You finally convinced your husband of two years to let you come to the betting shop with him.

“Can you please help me put my shoes on Tom?” You sigh as you walk into your husband’s office. He zips up his bag as you come closer to the large mahogany desk. His blue eyes meet yours with a small grin.

“Who said you were leaving the house?” He gives you a serious look as you roll your eyes at his mocking.

“I said I am leaving this house before I burn it to the ground. If you don’t let me out, you will be burning to the ground with it.” You tease playfully, swatting him on the chest, as he pulls the chair out for you to take a seat as he begins doing up the laces.

“Who knew I married an arsonist.” He plays along, as you stand to leave, swatting you on your bum as you make your way to the front door.

As soon as you arrive at the office after greeting everyone and talking to the women for a little bit, you take a seat in the rocking chair, he got just for you and your growing bump. You curl up under the huge blue blanket and begin to finish reading a baby book your mother got you as he writes letters that need to be sent. It’s only a little after 1pm when your baby starts kicking around and your stomach begins to growl.

“Tommy we’re hungry.” You speak, removing the blanket from your body. You stand folding and hanging it on the back of the chair, making your way to your husband's chair.

“You’re hungry, how can I be of assistance.” He moves his papers to the side as you take a seat upon the desk with his assistance. His warm hands find your growing bump and begin rubbing small circles enjoying the feeling of knowing he was going to see his son soon. He could feel the love growing in his heart as the day got closer.

“I think we want fish and chips again for the 100th time.” You laugh as you knew Tom was tired of having this meal but would indulge you sometimes but often more than not would just get a sandwich.

“Alright, I’ll call it in. Maybe we’ll stop at the sweets shop on the way back.” His blue eyes pierce into your eyes. You couldn’t be any happier than you were to be with him. In these moments he was yours and yours only, wrapped in a little world. If only it could stay this way forever.

It’s only a short while longer until it’s time to pick up the meal. As soon as you are ready to leave with Tom, a blinder man walks in with a worried expression.

“Tommy, there’s an emergency, you’re needed on the phone.” He nods helping you off the desk, before picking up the phone. As soon as the call ends, he explains, he's needed at one of the docks. There’s an issue with the police. He wasn’t sure if he was going to go, but decided to.

“Sorry love, but I should be back in an hour tops.” His warm lips press into the skin on your forehead. It says all that you both need at the moment. He tells his men to go with you and make sure to get you back safely.

If only life could be that simple for Thomas Shelby.

You enter the car with Kyle, your usual driver and one of the young blinders James that Tommy recently hired. You enjoyed both their company and trusted them with your life. As you begin the drive to the restaurant you don’t notice the car tailing slowly behind you all.

The first stop goes fine without any complications. You ask to drive to the sweet shop to pick up some treats for yourselves and the office. You go inside and talk with Dolares who owns the bakery. Picking out the sweets, when all of a sudden you hear loud gunshots outside the shop, followed by screaming on the inside of the shop. All the commotion goes quiet as you’re met with two tall guys in black hats with a golden symbol on top with guns.

“Give Us, (Y/N) Shelby, Now!” The first guy screams waving his gun in the air.

“And nobody gets hurt!” His accomplice screams after James begins to draw his gun to take a shot. The gunshot goes off. It ends with James on the floor clutching his arm, yelling out in agony.

“I’ll go with you! Please don’t hurt anyone else.” You plead feeling the adrenaline rush through your body with fear to your core. The guy on the right, takes your arm tightly in his, tugging you along with him, as his gun points into the crowd of scared civilians watching in horror as the first guy opens the door. They shove you into a car and blindfold you, making their getaway.

The event takes longer than anticipated. By the time he gets back to the office he finds himself to be actually hungry and ready to rest for a moment in your presence before completing the never ending mountain of work on his desk. As soon as he opens the door to the shop, he can tell something is wrong. He could feel the tension as he entered the room. The workers were silent and no one was looking him in the eyes. Arthur calls him into the office, shutting the door behind them, as he walks inside to see his brothers, cousin, Polly and only one of the men he sent with him. He double scans the room noticing your missing but thinking maybe you were in the loo.

“What’s wrong with all of you? Like like the lot of you, have seen a fucking bloody ghost.” He speaks noticing the straight faces of his family and nervousness of his younger brothers.

“Tell him Arthur!” Polly huffs, staring at the eldest Shelby brother who approached in front of his brother.

“Listen Tom…” Arthur begins but his brother’s impatience gets the best of him.

“Just spit it out will you!” He shouts, thrashing his hands in the air.

“They took (Y/N) and the baby.” He responds and Tommy feels his blood run cold. He feels sick in the pit of his stomach and body is overcome with emotion as his head falls into his brother’s shoulder screaming out your name, as Arthur pats his shoulder, calling out reassurances to try to get him to calm down. It takes a few minutes for him to get a small grip on himself, trying not to let his mind travel to the worse case scenario.

“What do we know so far? Where are the men I sent with her?” He asks, fishing out a smoke from his pocket.

“James was with her when the accident occurred. He got shot in the arm, so we sent him to get patched up. He’ll be fine, but he said the men were older. Kyle said, they must have been following them for a while, before they even left.” Arthur continues to tell the information.

“Well let's start searching the area and calling around. We’ve wasted enough time. We need to find her, she’s due any day now.” He speaks in a calm tone and claps his hands as every gets up to get to work on finding you.

All he knew as he began his search for you was that he needed to find you and fast. He wouldn’t forgive or be able to live with himself if something happened to you and let alone his unborn son. It would be the day hell froze over and Thomas Shelby couldn’t handle going to Hell, not just yet.

You hear the car go down a gravel road before making a sharp stop. You hear the doors open and slam shut, before you are forcibly grabbed to be ushered out the car and into a cold building. You can smell the makings of bread and liquor before you behind a room with a musky smell to it. Your capturer finally lets you go and releases the blindfold from your eyes. You take in the small space of the red brick walls and bags of flour on one side of the room. The room is almost completely dark except for a small light shining from the window from the inside of the building.

“This is where you’ll stay if your husband ever comes to find you. The guy from the scene speaks in a dark tone, shutting and locking the bolt behind him. There you begin to take steps around the small room, the adrenaline finally leaving your body as you are able to calm down for a moment. It doesn’t take away the fear, making it become more prevalent than before. Your mind worries about James, the baby, and Tommy. You start to take deep breaths to soothe yourself and decide to talk to the baby in your stomach to take your mind off it all.

“Hey little guy it’s mummy. I just wanted to let you know everything is going to be okay. Mummy is going to protect us while we’re here in this new place. Your daddy is out looking for us, I'm sure of it. He’s going to find us, I promise. All I need you to do, is to stay inside just until daddy comes and finds us. We love you.” You pace around the small dingy room, crying, as your fingers rub your stomach, while trying to get your mind off the situation at hand.

You didn’t want to put too much stress on your body on top of this already stressful situation. It didn’t help that your baby was supposed to be coming literally any day and now you were far away from his father and family. You hoped Tommy would find you both before you went into labor because you didn’t think you could manage going through it alone, let alone in a dangerous situation as this was. As you sat down against a bag of flour, you closed your eyes to sleep, feeling your son give a small kick, giving you peace.

It was two days later and Tommy was actually closer to finding out where you were. He sent calls down to the docks, Camden town, and city of London to spread the word that you were missing and to be on the lookout. He barely slept more than five hours each night, due to Polly harassing him. Telling him that he would be no good to you tired and out of sorts. Each night he could barely fall asleep with fear gripping his heart about you and wondering if you were okay. Waking up in a cold sweat of him never finding you or finding dead somewhere.

“We know who took her! We have an address.” John speaks running into his office, as he just arrived to try to think over who wanted to target him.

“Who? Where is she?!”

“It’s the Malone brothers, they wanted to get revenge on you for that deal. The ones with the guns and the booze. 17 Crown St London, there’s warehouses nearby.” John reads before handing his older brother the piece of paper in his hand, who began staring at it as his last resort.

“Let’s go give them an even better deal and show them they don’t mess with Thomas Shelby.” He rages as his brother follows, meeting the others in the car as they drive off fast to London.

You had been stuck in this room for two days and felt yourself getting weaker and weaker. All they gave you was small cups of water and a few scraps of bread. You wondered if Tommy was any closer to finding you or if you were going to be kept here forever. You still trusted he was going to find you, but you just hoped he would get there soon, because you couldn’t survive much longer in this condition, especially with the strain of the baby.

“Start looking in all the warehouses and when you find them, save them for me.” He orders as he and the blinders began causing chaos. He and Arthur start checking warehouses together. Once they reach the third, they enter quietly. Walking down the long dark hall following the light at the end. When they get there they see the Malone brothers laughing together.

“Oi boys, sorry to crash the party, but we have some business to handle.” Arthur shoots his gun into the air.

“Took you long enough to find us.” The eldest Craig, responds as they draw their weapons.

“Think you’ve been in the game too long, that you’re losing your touch.” Darrel, the other man snares.

“Where’s my wife?!” Thomas close points the gun right in his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. How are you sure we didn’t kill her?” He responds condescendingly, spitting.

“If she was dead, you wouldn’t be breathing as long as you have.” He takes the the first punch

while Arthur takes the other. Both giving them a pounding and throwing firsts in his face repeatedly. He takes the blade slicing his eyes, blood splattering everywhere. He takes a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline spurring him on his search to find you. He goes around the corner going down a corridor and he hears banging on a door half way through on the left. He looks at the bolt taking a second to figure it out, before of twisting the huge bolt, to find you screaming for help.

“Tommy!” Your voice cries out to him as he takes you into his arms. You can smell the stench of blood on him, but glad to be with him.

“I’m here love, I’m Here. I’ve got you.” He holds you close to his chest for a second longer before deciding to move you out. He lifts you into his arms holding you tight to his chest, instructing you to close your eyes. Not wanting you to see the messy scene inside the building, as just hearing it was traumatizing enough. You were used to him coming home covered in blood and bruises. You never really had to hear or see physically the chaos caused, more than a good right hook.

As soon as you get into the car safely. He wipes his face and has as much blood as possible. Holding you into his side as you drove back home in a silence, that left the air warm.

Once home, Frances and Mary greet you at the door. The doctor is on the couch waiting for you to be checked out. He gives you a clean bill of health and tells you the baby is healthy, which makes you both breathe a sigh of relief. Tommy helps you up the stairs and gives you both a hot shower. He lotions your body and dresses you in the warmest pajamas you have. He asks Mary to bring you some soup and tea for dinner knowing you had to be hungry. You just sit in silence trying to soak your safety net back in.

Tommy just sits at the side of the bed in a chair, not sure what to say, having too much on his mind that the word vomit was ready to come out but he was holding it in. Waiting for you to make the move to release your emotions. It happens right after you finish your dinner, Frances comes saying he’s wanted on the phone. You can feel your heart drop, not wanting him to leave the room. To be out of your sight. You needed him, you needed his comfort.

“Please don’t get the phone. Stay.” You plead quietly, he tells her to take a message, rushing over to you as the dam breaks and you begin soaking his shoulder with warm tears. Tears of many emotions.

“Shh..Shh. I'm not going anywhere love. I’m going to stay right here. Talk to me.” He pleads fingers rubbing your back in comforting circles.

“I was so scared. I knew you would come rescue us, I told him you would. You did but I can’t stop wondering if you didn’t or if you got hurt saving us.” Your fingers clutch him tightly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I was scared too, but I made you a promise on the day we started dating and when we wed, that i’ll always protect you. I’ll always save you from danger and rescue you. You’re my wife and I love you too much to think of what life would be like without you. We’re having a baby, and it’s my job to protect him. I’m sorry I got you both in that situation.” He wipes the remainder of your tears away with the pad of his thumbs, looking into your eyes with fondness.

“You’re forgiven. I love you so much Tommy.” You pull his face to meet your to kiss the man that had your heart forever.

“Please tell me you weren’t too hard on James. I didn’t want any bloodshed and I couldn't stop thinking about if that was our kid. I know they’re supposed to be dangerous, but I didn't want anyone to get hurt.” You speak after a few minutes of silence, the young lad making its way back to your thoughts. You knew he trusted your judgment and trusted you even in that situation.

You were one to hold your own and all his men respected you. When you meant business they followed your orders. With the young peaky men they respected you as much as they admired you. You got along with Finn, Michael, Isaiah, and James. They followed your orders but you would also spoil them sometimes with sweets or buying them lunch when at the office which would earn you a scolding from Tommy sometimes. That they’re meant to help and be tough, but you treated them like the growing men (boys) they were. They appreciated it secretly.

“He’s good love, at home resting so he can get back to the gang.” He squeezes your hand in his. It’s just quiet a moment, just you two admiring the other after being away from the other.

“Let’s get some rest, doll.” He pecks your lips, before tucking you in one your side of the bed as you turn to face his side. He slips in coming as close as possible with your bump between the two of you. You fall asleep with the comfort of your husband and quietness of your home.

It was the next morning when you awoke to aching back and cramps in your abdomen. The baby was moving around profusely in your stomach, as you decided to slip out of bed to pace around the room. Tom laid in bed with a peaceful expression on his face, snoring lightly as you stood watching the sun come up through the blinds. Having the window open just a small crack from fresh air to help alleviate the symptoms you were feeling. It’s only an hour later when you hear Tom stir, due to the creaking of the bed, the weight of his body shifting upward. His knuckles rub the sleep out of his eyes, before grabbing his glasses, off his nightstand, eyes finally coming in contact with yours.

“What are you doing out of bed love?” His voice rasps, as you make your way toward him.

“Couldn’t sleep, the little one in there might be ready to make his appearance.” You smile down at him, watching his expression match yours, as he entagles your fingers together.

“I’ll keep Pol on speed dial. For now, let’s have some breakfast, as we wait.” You nod, pulling him along downstairs to eat.

It was only after breakfast, did your water break when you were making your way to the living room.

Twelve hours later after a long time waiting, screaming, and then pushing all with Tommy and Polly by your side was your son, finally in your arms. He was no bigger than half a foot tall and looked adorable already even in his first minutes on the outside world. You were sitting up holding him in your arms admiring him with Tommy who was full of joy.

“I can’t believe we made this.” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Neither can I. He’s ours and I couldn't imagine doing life without you by our side.” You speak as the door creaks open, revealing the Shelby clan.

“Everyone meet Liam Michael Shelby.” Tommy says proudly holding his son in his arms as the family gathers around to take turns holding him. All congratulating you both and talking about how cute he was already.

Tommy knew in that moment how truly lucky he was to be experiencing this moment. Although fear still gripped his heart, he knew, he would forever protect you and his son, no matter the trouble that came along.

Taglist:

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peakyxtommy

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

For Old and Young Alike - Pt. 2

{Part 1}

Summary: 1913 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara has saved up for the perfect Christmas gift for her family and it’s almost time to show it to them. She’s just got to fetch the gift and wake everyone for the Shelby family Christmas breakfast first.

Inspired by this anon request: What about a little blurb set around Christmas time when Clara is younger maybe just before the boys go off to war, she has been saving her pocket money for ages to buy all her siblings and polly a little gift and she’s so excited to give them to her family x

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Finn Shelby, Polly Gray, John Shelby, Martha Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Charlie Strong, Clara Shelby

-----

When Clara rose from the bed she shared with Finn, it was still much too early, the sun not yet up and the house very much silent. She checked on her siblings and aunt, listening outside of Ada's and Tommy's and Polly's rooms for telltale signs of their slumber, deep even breaths heard through each of the closed doors.

She couldn't stop herself from admiring the tree as she came down the steps, the few gifts there under the lowest branches visible even in the rather dim light meaning Father Christmas had already been to number six. Clara didn't linger there on the steps long, far more focused on the gift she'd purchased for the others than any of the boxes sitting beneath the tree.

The gift had been wrapped and labeled and hidden with Freddie's help, stowed high and away from prying curious eyes. It hadn't crossed Clara or Freddie's minds that she'd need someone similarly tall in order to get the package down when the time came.

Clara was smart enough to know she'd not be able to get it on her own, not with the help of a stool and not by standing on the tips of her toes. She'd need the tallest person available and that person, her older brother Thomas, was peacefully asleep in his bed.

Tommy usually woke early on Christmas mornings. At one time it was him and Arthur doing the early rousing, then John and Ada when he'd become too old to show excitement over such things, and for the last few years, it had been the twins waking him, the babies synchronizing their pounces to cause the most surprise, taking precious care to knock the most wind out from their unsuspecting older siblings' chests.

He wasn't used to hushed whispers stirring him, warm breath surrounding his ear as a light pressure weighed on his right shoulder, and it confused him in his half-asleep state. Tommy snaked his arm around his sister, recognizing the presence of Clara even if he hadn't heard her little voice coaxing him along. Tommy shifted closer to the wall, pulling her under the covers, eyes still closed.

"It's alright, my girl," he said, vaguely stroking his hand through her hair. "Just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Clara didn't correct him settling under the warmth of the blanket for a cuddle even though she had her own agenda, waiting there long enough for Tommy's breath to even out, his chest heaving in a steady rhythm beneath her.

"Tommy?" she whispered once he'd begun to snore a bit.

Met with silence, Clara pushed his eyelid up with a single finger, the gesture gentle but intrusive all the same. "Wake up, Tommy."

"Clara," Tommy groaned, swatting her finger away and using the arm wrapped around her to hold Clara and her wandering arms against him. "It's not time," he mumbled. "Father Christmas hasn't—"

"But he already came, Tommy," Clara said, struggling against him. "And I—"

Tommy inhaled deeply, trying his best to hold his sister's belligerent little body still. Tommy knew Father Christmas had already come to the Shelby home. He'd come no more than a few hours earlier, just at the moment when Tommy had gotten home from the Christmas Eve dinner at Greta's, dropping the gifts under the tree after checking that the twins and Ada were asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep, in their beds. He was grateful that Polly had done the wrapping, stowing the handful of packages in the shop after they'd put the twins to sleep.

Really, Tommy shouldn't have been surprised his sister was awake this early being as they'd finished reading the final chapter of A Christmas Carol around seven, just before he'd been due to Greta's. He couldn't imagine Polly had let them stay up much beyond that.

"And if you don't go back to sleep, he'll come back and gather up anything he's left."

"No, he won't," Clara answered, "and he can't come back as I haven't been naughty."

"You're being naughty waking me up so early," Tommy mumbled, "and naughty little kids get coal for Christmas."

"I'm not naughty. I just need your help."

Tommy shushed her again, repositioning them both and pulling the blankets up as he held her to his chest. "Go back to sleep."

She ignored his words, pushing her arms up against his chest, trying to get out of his hold. "And not helping those in need is very naughty, Tommy, maybe even a sin."

Tommy snorted now, almost properly awake at his sister's words, a phrase he suspected to be transplanted from their aunt's mouth straight into Clara's. "I wouldn't want to be a sinner on Christmas, now would I?"

"I would expect not, Thomas. You'll get coal."

Tommy released Clara's arms, reaching for the pocket watch discarded on the nightstand. "And you need this help from me… right now?"

It was about half-past four in the morning and Tommy dropped the piece of metal to the bedside table as he wrapped his arm around her once again. If Tommy had his way, they'd both rest a bit longer and he'd help her with whatever it was she needed closer to six, or even better, at seven. He'd not sleep any later than that, even without the twins' traditional Christmas morning wake up call.

"Please, Tommy?"

Tommy shushed her again, wrapping the arm around her once more. "How about we get a bit more sleep and I—"

"But, it's Christmas. Please, Taaaa…mmy?" she said, drawing out the first syllable, pouting and wide-eyed though Tommy's head still tilted back against the pillow and he saw nothing but the inside of his eyelids.

That long opening syllable, the Taaaa he'd not heard with any regularity for a few years, his name usually so rushed as it came from her lips, the pieces of it mushed together as she uttered it only as a hasty introduction or conclusion to whatever she wished to tell him, the other content more significant than whatever sound she whirled at him to gain his attention.

The reappearance, whether she'd done it purposefully or not, pulled at something in him and Tommy released his sister, opening his eyes as he looked to her.

"You're a little devil, Clara Shelby."

"I am not!"

"You are and you don't even know it, which makes it all the worse."

-----

Tommy looked up to where Clara pointed, to the brown paper package on the very top of the cabinet, hidden just behind the decorative edge. It'd been there for weeks now but he hadn't noticed it.

"You pulled me out of bed for this?" he asked as he pulled it down. "What is it?"

"A surprise," Clara answered, pulling the box from his hands as it came within her reach and holding it to her chest.

"Alright," Tommy answered, rubbing his eyes. "We'll put it under the tree then, eh? Open it in a few hours? Give us all the gift of a bit more rest?"

Clara nodded as she took a step away from him, stopping suddenly at a lone creak on the stairs.

"Father Christmas come yet?"

Ada yawned, wrapped up in a robe, her hand clasped around Finn's as the pair tentatively traversed the stairs.

"Finn wants to know," Ada offered to Tommy's raised eyebrow. "I'd have liked that gift of a few more hours you've just mentioned."

"I imagine you would," Tommy said. "What time did you get in last night, Ada?"

"Not very late," she answered. She'd been back before Tommy, just barely, though. He'd seen light in her bedroom window from out on the lane. "Not that it's your business what time I get in."

"And where were you 'not very late' last night?"

"Molly's," Ada answered. "Though, again, not really your business."

Tommy sighed. He'd hoped to simply get his sister back to bed for a few more hours, or at the very least, he hoped she'd allow him a bit of rest on the couch. He'd planned to ask after Ada's whereabouts later, without quite so big and impressionable of an audience. He knew she hadn't spent the whole night with Molly Evans.

"So did he come, then, Tommy?" Finn asked.

"He did," Clara said to Finn, "and he left us presents and drank all the whiskey."

"Big surprise there," Ada said.

Tommy rubbed his face once again, willing his body to accept that sleep was something long behind him, willing his body to not punish him too much for drinking Father Christmas's glass of whiskey and then some.

"We best wake John and Arthur if we're doing this now."

"And Aunt Polly?" Clara asked, already on the second step.

Tommy lifted her into his arms. "Let Finn go wake Aunt Polly. You help me with our brothers. Ada can put the kettle on," Tommy said. "I'd tell you to start with breakfast, but we don't want to burn the place down, eh?"

Ada scoffed. "It was one bloody time, Tommy. It was just a bit of smoke."

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the twins, both of them starting to giggle.

"Well, go on, then. I don't need an audience to make tea, especially not if it's the three of you."

"Why's she so cross on Christmas morning?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps because someone woke her up before five."

"But you're not cross and I woke you up," Clara answered.

"Yeah, well, I imagine you were a bit gentler than Finn," Tommy said. "And we know how our Ada needs her beauty rest, makes her lovely inside and out."

"Shut it, Thomas," Ada answered. "And make sure to wrap yourselves up in something. It's chilly out."

Tommy pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping them both. "Good enough for your standards, Mother Ada?"

She stepped forward, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around her sister, tucking the fabric under her chin. "If either of you catches your death of cold out there—"

"We won't, Mother Ada," Clara said, mimicking Tommy's overdone inflection as she spoke her sister's name. "We're just going down the lane."

Ada rolled her eyes, shouting at them. "Fine! Go off and catch your colds, then!"

"See, my girl, that's why you're coming with me. You won't wake up half the lane shouting like our sister."

"Shut up, Thomas!" Ada said as she stepped through to the kitchen.

"Ada, you're not supposed—"

"Oh, come off it, Clara. Our brother deserves to be told to shut his mouth every now and then. Maybe if you said it, he'd listen."

"Now, Ada, don't go poisoning my Clara against—"

"Me? Me? You think I'm poisoning your Clara against you?"

"I won't give a second thought to poisoning the lot of you if you don't stop with all your shouting," Polly said as she came down the stairs, guiding Finn in front of her.

"I wasn't shouting," Finn said.

"I wasn't shouting either," Clara echoed.

"Yes, I know, my loves," Polly said, shifting her eyes from the twins to her other niece and nephew as she sharpened her tone. "You would never cause such trouble on Christmas morning."

Polly gave each of the twins a kiss on the cheek, offering them both a "Merry Christmas" and a smile before giving Tommy a peck on the cheek as well.

"Merry Christmas, Polly," Tommy said, beating her to the sentiment.

"Keep your sister under that blanket. Wouldn't want her to catch her death of—"

Clara and Finn both started giggling once again at Tommy's raised eyebrow, the three of them stopping suddenly as Polly cleared her throat.

"See." Ada threw her hands in the air. "Just as I've said. Tommy's always poisoning the twins against—"

"Calm down, Ada. Your brother's only doing it to rile you up. And you're only making it worse for yourself by letting him."

Ada huffed. "Unbelievable, the lot of you," she said, storming out of the room.

"Can we do breakfast first?" Finn asked, tugging on Polly's robe. "Then the presents?"

Polly opened her mouth to answer, cut off by the cursing and sound of crashing pots and pans one room over. This time Polly raised an eyebrow, smirking as the kids and Tommy chuckled.

"You alright in there, love?" Polly asked

"Fine, Polly," Ada answered. "And shut up, Tommy!"

"I didn't say anything, Ada."

"But you were thinking something or making a face or…just shut up and go get the boys."

-----

Clara snuggled against Tommy's chest, the two of them working together to hold the blanket up against the chilly air out on the lane.

Tommy directed them to John's house first, unsurprised when the door fell open with just a gentle push. They never locked up, Martha and John possessing something, perhaps an ill-placed bit of courage or comfort or stupidity that allowed them to feel protected within their four thin walls, only a barely competent door latch between them and the rest of Small Heath.

Clara released a small squeak as Tommy turned around to shut the door behind them, struggling to get out of his arms when she spotted Martha and the baby in a chair by the fire.

"Oh," Tommy said as he turned to them, allowing Clara out of his arms, her socked feet closing the distance to Martha and the baby in a few seconds. "Morning, Martha."

"I'd ask if you want to come in, but as you already have, maybe you'd still allow me to offer you a seat before you sit?"

Martha eyed Tommy for a moment before looking down at Clara, her little finger already clasped by the cooing baby.

"We didn't want to wake you," Tommy said. "Was planning to have Clara tiptoe in to steal John and the kids and let you sleep."

As little sleep as John got, they all knew Martha got even less, responding to most of the late-night and early morning calls of their babies before John even stirred.

"So you two decided to break in quietly, then?" Martha asked. "Sounds like a good way to get yourselves shot. You know he keeps a gun under his pillow."

"Where's Sarah?" Clara asked.

"Asleep with your brother. We can go wake the lazy lump if Uncle Tommy will take Joseph for a moment."

Tommy accepted the bundle of blankets into his arms, more adept and comfortable with an infant than most people would expect. He settled into the vacated chair as Martha took Clara's hand and led her up the stairs.

Martha stepped into the room first and pulled two things from the bed, the gun beneath John's pillow, which she stowed in the drawer of the nightstand, and then the sleeping toddler pulled from the spot between John and the wall. John stretched out the moment Sarah was pulled from the bed, subconsciously unraveling to occupy the space now vacated.

Martha gestured for Clara to have at it, the woman's smile further encouraging the excitement that had already budded in Clara on the way up the stairs.

Clara's words, her alarm bell greeting, shocked John's system, his hand going under the pillow in search of the missing gun before she'd even properly gotten the second syllable of 'merry' out from between her lips. Clara ran from across the room and landed with a grunt followed by bright giggles as she collided with his chest.

"Wake up, John. It's Christmas," she said between laughs.

John's heart was beating so fast and hard it took him a moment to recuperate, just lying there with his wife and sister giggling, his daughter waking to the noise, her laughter joining the chorus.

"Christmas, is it?" he said, glancing through the window to the dark street. "It's still Christmas Eve, I think."

"No, John, it's Christmas," Clara answered.

"Must be pretty fucking early, then."

Martha scolded him and John sat up, Clara sliding off his chest to sit in his lap.

"Tommy and I broke in to wake you up."

"Broke in?" John asked, glancing up to his wife for confirmation.

"Your brother," Martha said. "He never fucking knocks. Just lets himself in like he owns the place."

John raised an eyebrow at the language he'd just been corrected for and Martha rolled her eyes. "I suppose your sister has already learned it. Sarah, too. We'll try better with Joseph."

John smirked. "Clara learned it around Sarah's age. Imagine this sweet little thing sat right there at the breakfast table demanding more fucking eggs. Gave Aunt Pol quite a shock to the heart the first time she heard her say it, eh Clara?"

"I don't remember," Clara answered.

"I suppose you wouldn't," John said, depositing his sister on the covers as he pushed himself out of bed and began pulling on the rest of his clothes. "Has Pol started breakfast yet?"

-----

When their fourth set of knocks went unanswered, Tommy shifted Clara to his opposite hip and fished the key to number 57 Watery Lane out of his pocket.

The first floor was dark and silent, and Tommy kicked an empty whiskey bottle out of the way as he carried Clara towards the stairs. Clara wiggled out of the blanket and Tommy's arms and he set her down on the top step, Arthur's bedroom door angled open to reveal a heap of blankets on top of the bed.

Clara intended the same wake-up for Arthur as she'd given to John and prepared to launch herself on top of him, but Tommy caught her under the arms, pulling her back up to his hip as he spotted a delicately arched foot slip from under the mound of covers.

"Hey!" Clara attempted a whisper, but it still came out as a shout. "Put me—"

"Shush, love. It's still early," Arthur mumbled, assuming the noise came from the bed beside him. "Give me another hour of sleep and I'll give you—"

Tommy cleared his throat. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

It startled him and the bed quickly became a mess of limbs and blankets as Arthur and the woman he'd brought home began to thrash about.

"Who's your friend, Arthur?" Tommy asked, nodding towards the woman hiding behind his shoulder.

Arthur stammered, reaching down to grab his shirt and pants off the floor and pulling them on beneath the covers.

"Ah, is that Eva?" Tommy asked. "Merry Christmas, Eva."

"Merry Christmas, Tommy," the young woman answered tentatively, pulling the covers closer around her as Arthur got off the bed.

Clara leaned forward in Tommy's arms, extending her hand. "Merry Christmas. I'm Clara Shelby."

Eva bit back a giggle, the embarrassment of the moment slipping away as the little girl looked at her expectantly, not a bit phased by finding a girl in her brother's bed. Eva pulled a hand out from beneath the covers and shook Clara's hand. "Merry Christmas, Clara."

"Are you coming to Christmas?" Clara asked, settling back against Tommy's chest.

"Oh, um…"

"Go on. Get yourself dressed," Arthur said, gathering up her things and tossing them onto the bed. "You're welcome at breakfast. The baby has spoken."

"No, no, that's alright. I've got my own family to get home to."

Arthur turned to his siblings. "Has Aunt Pol started breakfast yet?"

Tommy nodded. "C'mon, Eva. You haven't lived 'til you've had a Shelby family Christmas breakfast. If you thought Arthur could drink, you should see him eat."

"There's biscuits," Clara added. "Biscuits and candies for breakfast!"

"And everything else you could imagine," Arthur added.

"No, it's really alright. My sister's expecting me," Eva said.

"Tillie's expecting you at five in the morning?" Tommy asked.

Tommy knew the sisters. He couldn't imagine Tillie was home yet either.

"Well, I might sleep a bit more and then go over," she answered.

"Suit yourself," Arthur answered, kissing the girl before turning. "Lock up for me when you leave, alright, sweetheart?"

"Sure, Arthur."

Arthur pulled Clara from Tommy's arms, kissing her cheek as they stepped out of his room. "Merry Christmas, love. A bit early this year, eh?"

"It's Finn's fault," Clara said. "He woke Ada."

"Yeah, and you woke me thirty minutes before that," Tommy added, the three of them making their way out onto the lane.

"But we were gonna wait."

Tommy nodded. "I suppose you and Finn'll be taking naps this afternoon, being up so early."

"No naps, Tommy! It's Christmas." Clara turned in Arthur's arms twisting both ways to meet each of the boys' eyes. "Tell him, Arthur!"

Arthur laughed. "I may be taking a nap, myself, love. You two wake John yet?"

Tommy gestured ahead of them to where Martha, John, and the babies were making their way down the street towards number six.

"Let's wake Charlie, too, eh?" Arthur asked, stepping over and banging hard on Charlie's door until the upstairs window opened.

"Christ, Arthur. It's five in the fucking morning. People are sleeping."

"Merry Christmas, Charlie," Arthur said.

"It's time for Christmas, Uncle Charlie!" Clara said, smiling up at him.

Charlie sighed, rolling his eyes. "Did your aunt start breakfast, then?"

The boys and Clara nodded and Charlie shut the window without another word, appearing moments later beside them on the sidewalk. There was nothing quite like the Shelby family Christmas Breakfast.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

{Part 3}

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🏷:

@beautycinders @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me @lovemissyhoneybee @marquelapage @midnight-dreams-23 @mo-onstarrs @ohhersheybars @pollyrepents @unicorndetective22

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #shelby!sister #shelby sister #tommy shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #john shelby #arthur shelby #martha shelby #charlie strong #clara shelby #little lady blinder

167 notes · View notes

babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

I'm Coming Home, Baby

Summary: Y/N and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry Esme and even though Tommy does feel bad he does it anyway. Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on Y/N and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous cause he will always love her. Then she is killed by the Italians and just people’s reactions.

Warnings: Heavy angst, character death.

Requested by : Anon

He was the first boy you ever befriended, shared your first kiss with. It happened on an old broken swing in the backyard of your house when you were only twelve.

You met John when he was thirteen. The memory was so fresh in your mind, even today, it made you feel like it was yesterday when you were hiding behind your mother, clutching the fabric of her skirt, your tiny little head poking out just to watch around, with your big (Y/E/C) eyes, when two boys rode into the plaza on a black horse. The older boy was probably 18, but your eye caught the eye of the younger one. You were so young; the concept of love was something you had not yet experienced. But now, if you thought about it, you loved that thirteen year old boy. Your love for him only evolved from wanting to have all his attention at all times, stealing his candies from his pockets, and playing skittles with him all day, to holding hands and walking by the river, stealing kisses when no one was looking.

There was a time when you two became so inseparable, you would spend hours together and you would spend your entire days with the Shelby family.

Then one day, you watched him leave, as the war was upon you all. There were tears, and you could hear hearts crack, the slow, horrid torture of sweethearts like you and John being separated, wives left alone as their husbands left them to go to war, mother's watched their sons leave. Polly had to hold you; tight against her chest for hours as you wept, after he had left, and you had no idea whether he would come back or not.

War changed you both. He witnessed so many atrocities , so much death and so much horror; the man that came back, his eyes had a holocaust, a deep rooted horror lurking within his irises. He would scream and thrash in his sleep, and no amount of pacifying could control him, except for you. But you had changed too by that time. You had lived without him for so long, you had lived with a constant worry and fear for so long, you had grown sombre and the fire that you possessed and the light in your eyes, that little twinkle, it was lost. You rarely spoke, when all you ever did once was talk. It was like you were now a walking, breathing corpse. Your heart still pumped blood, but that was all. You were a ruin, just like your lover. Things weren't the same anymore, thus, after war. No matter how hard you tried, John and you could not go back to what you used to be.

Although you the two of you weren't together, almost everyone knew that you belonged with each other. It was like you could understand what John wanted, even without him having to say it. Whenever John had a nightmare, you were the one holding him close, rocking him against your chest, while he clung on to you, hopeless and weak. You saw him at his worse, and so did he, many times, when the two of you fought, and you ended up breaking down.

All this love, all this pain, but you found comfort in your empty bed to think that John still loved you, it was the only blanket that gave warmth to your heart. However, one day, someone pulled that blanket off you, and the betrayal you felt shattered your soul.

You found out that Tommy had fixed John's wedding with one of the Lee's, Esme.

You didn't know what you hated more, or who you hated more. Was it John, who said yes and couldn't stick his arse up to his brother and say no ? Who could still look you in the eye claiming to still be in love with you even after being the one to scratch your heart out? Or was it Tommy? The man you looked up to as your elder brother? Who you trusted more than yourself, that he will never let you and John part your ways? Or was it Esme? The beautiful damsel who made you envy her? She was beautiful, she was young, and she was untouched by war, or that is what you thought. Maybe she would keep John happy, maybe she would be good for him, you kept repeating those words at the back of your mind again and again.

It was as though you couldn't breathe after that. You would sit up in bed, drenched in your own sweat, screaming at the top of your lungs, crying. At first, John did come, when your mother would telephone him and tell him what had happened, concerned and his eyes clouded in tears, watching you, wishing he could hold you, as your mother leant over the side of your bed and tried to calm you down but as the days to his wedding came closer, he stopped coming altogether.

You couldn't watch him take his vows, so you locked yourself in your room, having decided you were never going to step into the Shelby house again. The truth was, although they were your family, they were also your employers; you worked for Tommy Shelby, as one of his secretaries. If you left this job, you didn't know when you will find another job again.

Thus, a few days before John and Esme were to be married, you asked Tommy to give you a time off, for you needed it, to recuperate. And he did, without thinking twice. Tommy did what he had to do, it was a call of the moment, but it wasn't like he didn't know how much you or John were hurting. If giving you a chance to go on a much needed Vacation was something he could do to ease your pain, he would definitely do it.

You cried all night, a night before the love of your life married another woman. You sat in bed, hugging your feet closer to your body, thick salty tears spilling along your cheeks, your lip trembling and quivering. At times you would have to bring your palm up to press it against your mouth, for you had an urge to scream and to yell, but you didn't want to wake your neighbours. Little did you know, that outside your window, John had fixed himself, only his cigarette stick visible under the pale moonlight, for he wanted to make sure you were alright, and couldn't sleep without tossing and turning multiple times. Little did you know that he often wrote to you, but your mother burnt those letters before they could reach you; so they couldn't cause any more damage to you as this mess already had.

The next day, you left Birmingham City, having decided to get out of town, the first train to London, away from the chaos and the madness this city had brought upon you. Maybe a change will do you good. And you decided you will not come back, for there was nothing left there for you, except your mother but that was a different thing altogether.

You blocked it all out, all the hurt, all the anguish that you were feeling, swallowing it inside of you like a bitter pill, weeks after John and Esme Shelby were one, but one thing you couldn't do, was return back to work, for you didn't have it in you to face your biggest weakness. It had taken you weeks to stop feeling depressed all the time and you had finally learnt what it felt like when you had to just live on, putting on a brave face. You now knew what it meant when people said, things happen, and they don't really and most often don't happen the way we want them to, but life goes on, whether we like it or not.

Finally, fifteen long weeks after having gone without seeing John Shelby, one morning, you woke up in a puddle of your own sweat, thick hot beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Half lidded eyes, you reached for a glass of water to soothe your parched throat, but the anxiety and the fear bubbling up inside your heart didn't ease. You had to see him, to make sure he was okay. Nothing mattered to you in that second, when your heart was palpitating inside your chest and you were sat there, clutching your sheets and gasping for air.

You ran up into the living room, and fell next to the telephone ringing your mother, and cried on the phone, "I want to come back home mum, I thought I will feel better, but I don't, I just feel I will never feel better again."

You lied to yourself, that you were going back to Birmingham city, the first train you could find, so you could see your mother again, but your heart knew that it was much more complex than what it all looked like. Even after coming back, and spending all evening with your mum, you couldn't fill up the hollowness that you had been feeling in your heart. You knew there was only one way.

After much contemplation, walking down to the Garrison didn't seem like a bad idea to you; the Shelby's mostly spent their evenings at the Garrison, and you hoped you'll catch a glimpse of him from one of the windows, and you'll leave. It was a pale, moonless night, the winds were shallow, but you could still notice the winds, hitting your face, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The windows to the Garrison were mildly foggy as though they hadn't been scrubbed on in ages, but you could still see. You could see the Shelby's all standing inside, walking around, speaking to each other. He was standing there, in a pool of his family, Finn on one side and Arthur on another, his young boyish face gleaming underneath the golden ivory lighting of the pub. Also, a woman stood next to him, that you clearly recognised, Mrs. John Shelby.

Your heart still managed to skip a beat, when you saw a soft smile break out on his lips at probably a joke being cracked by Finn. Atleast he looked happy. When you were not.

"Excuse me? Is something wrong?"

A voice called out to you, causing your eyelids to expand, and your hand to fly upwards, your fingers managing to push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Slowly, you turned around to look at the source of the voice. He didn't look much older than you, but from what you could see, you could notice how well dressed he was , almost like the Shelby's themselves.

"I, uh, it's nothing. I was just lost."

The young man skewered his head to one side, as if scrutinizing you from the corner of his eye, however, before he could speak again, a voice cut him off, a voice you knew all together, "Michael, where's Polly? I thought it was the whole family tonight. She-"

Tommy stopped talking, the minute he laid his eyes on you. Even in the darkness of the night, he knew it was you. It had been ages they had all seen you. It was as though you had just vanished, and your mother never told them your whereabouts, no matter how much they tried to find out.

"You-"

"Hello, Thomas."

You whispered, toying with your fingers.

"How? We all fucking tried looking for you everywhere."

"I left town." You tried to sound cold, but who were you kidding, no matter how much you tried, this family was yours, although you didn't share their blood. Tommy was like a brother you had never had.

"Does John-"

Tommy didn't complete his sentence, he just turned to follow your gaze as the two of you started looking at him, watching you from the inside, his jaw almost dropped as if he had seen a ghost; his eyes on you.

Michael finally understood who you were. You were the one, the one that had caused the sheen in John's eyes to die down, the woman who had his heart.

𖠁𐂃𖠁

You were okay.

It had been difficult, and at first, you didn't want to do it. Being back into the Shelby's life was difficult, and Tommy's offer of you retaking your position as his secretary was something that made you feel worried, that being around John will break your control over the situation.

But you wouldn't lie, there was someone who made you pull through, and stuck with you when you thought you wouldn't be able to do it.

Michael Gray.

You didn't remember the countless times you had used him as your pillow, crying on his shoulders while he let you. He didn't judge you, and he didn't lie to you, telling you that things will be fine. That is all you wanted.

You sat in the Shelby office, on a Saturday, and you weren't expecting the Shelby's to come in today, except Michael, who was already here standing by the telephone, speaking to someone.

You tapped your lit cigarette lightly, letting the white snowy ashes fall into the ashtray, as you brought it back up to your plump lips. Your eyes scanned through the files, your pen in your other free hand as you scribbled some numbers relentlessly into the notepad, until Michael slammed the receiver down.

"What's wrong, Michael?" You gave him a look.

"Nothing , Tommy's fucking shipment is stuck. Some workers strike."

"Well, if the man himself is least bothered, why on earth are you boiling your blood out for him? Let it go, Thomas is going to find a way to sort it out, yeah? Anyway, I need your help, this is some really messed up calculation."

Michael shook his head, pretending to be disappointed in you, but secretly, he loved it. He loved it when you called him over to help you out with the calculations, for this meant that he could tower over your desk, leaning down on you, secretly inhaling the soft, dewy fragrance from your silky locks, admiring you. So, he left whatever it was that he was doing and fixed himself next to your desk, almost leaning over you from your back, so he could look at the paperwork.

Just then, the doors flung open, and a sudden chatter filled the room, when Arthur, Tommy and John entered, bickering among themselves on a topic, without having paid heed to you.

"Right, so did you see his fucking face? He could have bloody shit his pants at that," Arthur chuckled.

Your face lost its pallor, and you averted your gaze from John, when he suddenly stopped listening to his brother, and his eyes fell on Michael, and you. He could not hide the sudden change in his expression, the jealousy and the hurt in his eyes. His jaw squared, and his eyes narrowed in reflex and he couldn't bite back on his words, "Michael, I thought we asked you to sort out the bloody shipment, and not fucking flirt around with the employees around here."

My eyes widened at his words, and reflexively, I stood up, fixing myself next to Michael in his support.

"Well, what can I fucking do if the workers are on a bloody strike?" Michael protested, stepping in front of your desk, facing the three men.

"Well, for one, you can do what you're fucking here to do, and not be on other people's desks," John snapped, ignoring the way your eyes widened at him in disapproval, and Michael grit his teeth, clenching his fists as he walked off, towards the door.

"Michael, wait." You called out, but he didn't stop, and the door slammed shut when he walked out of the betting shop.

"John, thats enough, what are you fucking doing, eh?" Tommy asked, stepping in front of John, blocking your view of him.

"Just getting some bloody work done around here for once," John grumbled back, trying to walk past Arthur and Tommy so he could barge towards you. However, before he could make his way to you, you stepped up, grabbing your coat, and your purse.

"Michael didn't deserve that," you spat at him once, before turning away, as you walked out.

You didn't wait to turn back and see that John had pulled out of Arthur's grip, and he was now making his way towards you. You stepped out of the Shelby office, your heels clicking against the paved roads, as you started walking away, when you felt a hand grip your arm and pull you back, pressing you against the brick wall.

"John, let me go." You protested, trying to push his chest so he could move away.

"What the fuck was that?" He barked, still not letting you go, his hands on either side of you, having trapped you there, while you kept trying to push him, so you could get out of being so close to him again, "Michael fancies you. He fucking fancies you and still you like to keep him around yourself?"

You almost scoffed at his hypocrisy.

"So what if he fancies me? So what John?" You screamed, taking a deep breath, wiping the tears that had managed to leak from your eyes, leaving stains down your cheeks. He parted his lips, trying to find the right words, but before he could, you started yelling again, "it was okay for you to bloody get married when Tommy asked you to, but I cannot let another man fancy me. Why John? You're a fucking married man now, and I can't move on and be with someone who fancies me."

He slowly removed his hands from either of your sides, and stepped away so he could give you the space, and you instantly stepped away, shaking your head at him and then running your hands through your hair, frustrated with this all.

You kicked the sidewalk with your heel, not even paying attention to how your heel broke from the hit.

"You know I didn't want this to happen Y/N, not any more than you didn't. But I could not say a bloody no to Tommy."

"Don't you dare put this on anyone but you. You fucking chose to say yes, and you weren't forced. I never forgave Tommy, but I will never forgive you too John, now if you allow I have to go look for Michael."

You bent, sliding your feet out from the heels and took your heels in your hand. You started turning, when then it all happened in slow motion, before John could do anything to stop you.

If John knew that the bullet from the Italians gun, that was meant for him, will hit you on the side of your neck, he would have shielded you with his own life.

It was a clean hit, the bullet striking his heart, poetically, and your neck.

Your eyes widened, your hand flying to your neck, as hot blood spurted out and you started coughing, your body feeling loose, like that of jelly.

He watched you gasp, clutching the side of your neck, his eyes widened in shock, his mind blank, and his heart beating faster than ever. Tommy and Arthur rushed out now too, and before John could react, Arthur was kneeling down next to you, checking your pulse, his palm pressed to your neck, as you slowly bled to death.

"Tommy, we need to get her to fucking doctor, she is fucking bleeding to death!!"

John just kept looking.

If only that bullet had taken him.

John Shelby lost his heart in a whiff of a second, watching it shatter into two, the day he watched the woman he loved take her last breath. He broke down next to your now cold palm that lay by the sidewalk, your eyes wide open, keeping you close to his heart.

You were dead, even before Arthur could lift you up and carry you into Tommy's car, you were already gone and your body went cold, your hand falling lifelessly down your side.

Now just a month later, history repeated itself, but only this time, John didn't feel like he had anything to lose, and instead, he only had something to gain. He was probably going to bleed to death, but there was one thing that comforted him, as he took his last, broken breaths, that maybe you were waiting for him on the other side, and he just had to throw out his hand, and you'll be there to catch him.

And this is what he thought, in those final moments, as he lay, covered in a pool of his own blood, shot down by the Italians himself, mere months after your death. His breathing slow, his chest heaving up and down, blood erupting from his wounds, yet he was thinking of your face, the way your eyes were trained to him as you died.

John was awake; atleast for mere seconds, just as he inched closer to death, when Esme hunched over him, trying to revive him and he opened his mouth, gasping for air, like a fish thrown out of water, trying to breath; but he did manage to say a few words, only, they were so muffled, Esme could never make out what he said.

No one could hear what John Shelby spoke to her, and she kept clinging on to his last words, imagining that he was telling her that he loved her, but what he said was gone the minute he was gone.

But if anyone would have heard it, he would have known, what he meant, when he took his last breaths, and the only words that came out of his lips were, "I'm coming home, baby."

He was finally going home. And they were going to be together.

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#john shelby #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders #john shelby angst

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maydaygirl-save-our-ships · 3 years

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Home Again (Amphibia Fic)

Spoilers for True Colors.

Summary:

Anne stared at her shaking and confused frog family and couldn’t help but think back to the first day she landed in Amphibia. She had been terrified, especially after she learned of the blood thirsty, giant creatures that inhabited the world. Nothing about the urban city in which she grew up was familiar to the Plantar family. She recognized their overwhelmed and distraught faces and her resolve hardened. “Don’t worry, guys,” Anne said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You took care of me when I was lost in your world, and now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

<Previous

Chapter 2: Another Starting Point

“My home is a few miles from here,” Anne said as she got to her feet. “We can walk, but we will be out in the open. I wish we could take a bus, but I don’t have any money.”

“We’re fine with walking. Just tell us what kind of monsters might be out there, and we’ll be prepared,” Hop Pop said matter-of-factly.

Anne shook her head and shouldered her backpack. It was much heavier with Frobo’s head inside. “There's no monsters in my world. Why do you think I was so freaked out by the huge monsters in your world and the piles of bones everywhere? This world isn’t dangerous in the same way as Amphibia is dangerous.”

“Then why can’t we go out in the open?” Sprig asked.

“Because if people see a bunch of frog people they are going to freak out,” Anne said bluntly.

Sprig chuckled. “Come on Anne, we don’t look that weird!”

Anne shot him a tired look. “As weird as I looked in Amphibia, that's how weird you guys look here.”

“Are they going to send a mob after us?” Polly asked. She sounded almost hopeful.

“I doubt it, but the government might try and capture you or something…” Anne mused and she looked around the small clearing for anything that she could use.

“Why would the monarchy want to capture us?” Hop Pop asked. “We’re not a threat.”

“What? No, there’s no monarchy- you know what, I’ll explain that another time,” Anne said as she spotted exactly what she was looking for. Anne ran over and grabbed a large, blue blanket that was hanging over a fence. It was probably left there by the homeless encampment that often set up in the area.

“Here,” Anne said as she wrapped the blanket around her frog family. “Stay hidden under this until we get to my house.”

Hop Pop let out a long hearty cough. “If you think that’s best, Anne.”

“Whoa. You okay dude?” Anne asked worriedly.

“I’m fine. The air in your world is just… different from ours.”

Anne knew what he meant immediately. The way the polluted air filled up her lungs made her chest feel heavy. It wasn’t until she came back to her world that she appreciated the fresh and unpolluted air of Amphibia.

“It’s just pollution from the cars in the city. It will clear up more in the suburbs,” Anne promised. “Come on, let’s get going.”

She led them to the sidewalk and instructed them to stay close. They seemed hesitant to go near the street and it’s rushing cars, but trusted her enough to follow her anyway.

They walked in mostly silence with a few murmurs from her frog family as they took in the sights of her world. Every once in a while they would recognize something they had seen in one of her movies or shows, but most of the time they looked both amazed and overwhelmed.

Eventually the scenery changed and they found themselves walking next to fresh cut lawns, picket fences, and the occasional garbage can that was left out on the curb. The buzz of the highway traffic and bustle of the city was muted in the distance. They turned down a street and Anne suddenly stopped. She felt as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs, forcing all of her air to leave in a rush.

Why? Why had she turned down this street? Was she trying to torture herself?

She stared at the outside of the Wu residents across the street, unable to move. Marcy’s parents must be devastated at their child’s disappearance. Would she have to tell Marcy’s parents about what happened to her? Explain to them that Marcy was never coming home? No, she wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do that, not until she was sure Marcy was really… gone. There was still some hope, wasn’t there?

“Anne? Anne?” She heard voices calling her name behind her but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Something light, but solid landed on her shoulder. It was a familiar feeling as one of Sprig’s cool hands touched the skin at the base of her neck as he sat on her shoulder, peering at her in concern. The first time Srig had jumped on her shoulder back in Amphibia, Anne hadn’t been used to frog skin yet and she had felt like he was invading her personal space. Now, she found the gesture familiar and comforting. It was nice to have Sprig sitting on her shoulder, just the perfect height to talk to, or hug, depending on what she needed.

“Anne?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

She really wasn’t, but her first priority was to make sure they were okay.

“I’m fine,” she said, quickly wiping away her tears and wishing he couldn’t see, but knowing he could. Suddenly, the reality of the situation caught up with her. “Wait, Sprig! Get back under the blanket before someone sees you!” She glanced around the neighborhood to see if anyone had noticed them.

“Don’t worry,” Sprig said as he jumped off her shoulders onto the pavement. “I don’t think there’s anyone around right now.”

He did have a point. It was in the middle of the day and most people were probably at work or at school… Was there school? Or would it be summer time by now?

“Maybe not right now, but someone could drive down the road any second,” she warned.

“Oooh hey, what’s that?” Sprig asked, and to Anne’s horror, he bounded off into the street.

“Sprig! What are you doing?”

“Whoa, there are some coppers here just lying in the road!” Sprig said as he picked up one and began to study it.

“Those are just pennies,” Anne said. “They aren’t worth- Sprig, look out!”

People were always blowing past stop signs in the neighborhood, and the car that was currently driving down the street was completely ignoring the 25 mph speed limit.

Sprig’s eyes widened as he looked up to see the mental machine bearing down at him with no intention of slowing.

Sprig was quick, he could probably jump out of the way in time, but Anne couldn’t risk it. She had already lost one friend today.

The car clearly hadn’t seen the tiny pink frog in the middle of the road, but it would be able to see her. She jumped out into the middle of the road, blocking Sprig from the oncoming vehicle as she held her arms out wide. The driver immediately slammed on his breaks, much to Anne’s relief. The car came to a complete stop and the driver rolled down his window.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, kid? I could’ve hit you!”

“Sorry!” Anne called. “It’s just my…” She searched for the right word. What kind of pets did they even have in this world again? Not caterpillars, or baby snails... that wouldn’t make any sense. “My… cat ran into the road.” She did her best to block Sprig from the driver's view. She felt him jump onto her back and duck his head so he wouldn’t be seen. “I think he ran off though.”

The driver grumbled something before rolling up his window.

Anne quickly stepped out of the road, doing her best to keep the driver from seeing the little pink frog clinging to her back.

When the car drove away, Anne let out a sigh.

“Heh… sorry, Anne,” Sprig apologized as he jumped off her back.

“I thought you said this world isn’t dangerous?” Polly asked skeptically as Sprig joined her underneath the blanket again.

“It’s not dangerous in the same way your world is. It’s not like there are monsters in the bushes, but if you don’t follow the rules of the road and jump into the middle of the street-” She made sure to give Sprig a meaningful glare. “Then it can be dangerous. Just stick close to me, okay?”

“You got it, Anne! Hey, can we use these coppers to buy anything?” Sprig asked. From underneath the blanket he held out his hand to reveal three pennies.

“Not really. I was trying to tell you, dude, those are just pennies and they’re barely worth anything.”

“Oh.” Sprig looked disappointed. “Well, I’m still keeping them,” he said as he shoved them into his pocket. “They have a cool human on them.”

Anne rolled her eyes affectionately. Sprig had always been interested in the Earth stuff she brought with her. She had actually given him a lot of the stuff she didn’t need, like pens and old key chains. She was going to have a hard time convincing him not to fill up his pockets with junk from her world.

“What kind of monetary system do you have that copper isn’t worth anything?” Hop Pop asked, appalled. “Don’t tell me you have so much gold that you're lining your garbage cans with it? Talk about inflation!”

Anne made a face. “I don’t know! I don’t even know if pennies are real copper or what inflation is. If you really want to know, you should ask Mar-” she stopped herself, the pit in her stomach tightening.

Hop Pop went silent as he reached out from under the blanket and patted her arm comfortingly.

They didn’t say much as they continued to walk down the sidewalk together. Marcy’s house was only a few blocks away from her own. That was actually how they met. Both of their parents had taken them to the same park when they were young and then they attended the same elementary school together.

Anne shook her head again. She had to stop thinking about Marcy. She had to focus on getting home and finding a way to get back to Amphibia. There was a war going on without her and her frog family couldn’t stay on Earth forever. She would get them back home, just like they got her home.

She finally stopped, taking in the sight before her. It had felt like an eternity but the house in front of her remained completely unchanged. Her family home was one of the older houses in the neighborhood. It needed a new coat of paint and the basketball hoop above the garage was one basket away from falling off, but her mother’s touch had always made the place feel homey, with light pink curtains in the windows and flowers on the front railings. It had always been comfortable, familiar. Home.

However, at this moment, her childhood home was strangely cold to her. In Wartwood, the streets were always bustling with people. The houses were often small and welcoming; doors were left open and neighbors visited each other often. Grass and weeds were always overgrown in Wartwood and it was a stark contrast to the perfectly manicured lawns of her house and neighbors. Standing in front of the house, her world felt silent and empty.

The minivan wasn’t in the driveway so her parents weren’t home. The lights were off, further driving home the point that no one was there. She didn’t know why she expected her parents to be home waiting for her. It had been months since her disappearance, and at this time of day they would be at the restaurant finishing up the lunch rush, not waiting for her to show up out of a portal from another world.

Looking at her home now, Anne had to wonder, had anything changed without her? Would her parents even care that she came back? Were they happier without her making a mess they would then yell at her to clean up? Did they have more free time now that they didn’t have to bug her to do her homework or take her to tennis practice?

Anne knew this line of thought was stupid and fed by her own insecurities. Of course her parents loved her and missed her. But had her disappearance really not changed anything? She couldn’t help but selfishly wish that her parents had been sitting at home for the past few months waiting for her to come back. She had worried and missed them every single day, even spent nights crying over pictures of them in her phone. They had felt the same, hadn't they?

“Is this your home, Anne?” Sprig asked. “It’s nice.”

“It’s fancy,” Polly said. “Kind of like the homes in Newtopia.”

“Yeah, this is it guys. My home.” Why did that word seem so hollow on her tongue? She had been so urgent to get back home before now. It was her entire goal; the reason she and the Plantars had gone on such a huge journey together. They had given up everything just to get her here.

Now, it was just another starting point.

“Anne, are you sure your parents are going to be okay with us?” Hop Pop asked worriedly. “It’s not polite for us to just show up unannounced.”

That caused Anne to laugh. “You mean like how I showed up in Wartwood unannounced and you took me in? You guys are my family, I would never leave you without a place to stay. Besides, my parents aren’t even home right now. They’re at the restaurant.”

“Yes, but when they get home, they might be a bit overwhelmed to see us, since we aren’t from this world.”

“You guys have no idea,” Anne said. “But don’t worry about it. We’re Thai. Thai people are some of the most hospitable people you’ll ever meet. After my parents get over their initial shock, they will insist that you stay. My mom will probably cook a bunch of food for you that she won’t let you refuse.”

Hop Pop chuckled. “In that case, lead the way, kiddo.”

Anne smiled and turned back to the door. She wasn’t even sure if she still had her house keys, and with Frobo’s head in her backpack, she didn’t want to go digging for it. Instead, she approached the side of the house to search under the only bush. She finally found the fake rock and took out the spare key.

She made her way up to the front door and turned the key in the lock. With one turn of the door handle, and a softer push than the Plantar’s front door required, the door opened.

Let me know what you think of this one! ! I know you are all looking forward to the Plantar's meeting Anne's parents and I promise we will get there!

Check out my kofi if you are interested.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #true colors spoilers #amphibia home again #amphibia fanfic

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vanillann · 3 years

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ew, it’s the government (spencer reid x reader)

hi!! after thinking about this i’ll be taking out the acab from the masterlist (nothing changing in the plot line) just so it doesn’t feel like an aesthetic!!

warning: swearing, mentions of crime and sex, enemies to lovers

word count: 1.6k

ew, it’s the government masterlist

chapter 7: in the wise words of jane austen

“You know, I wish my tax dollars went to those stupid pot holes.”

I rubbed my head from where it slammed into the roof of Agent Reid's car.

“Sorry.”

HIs voice was sincere as he quickly jumped from the driver seat once we parked and ran to my side of the car. I nodded my head, stepping out and I followed him to the trunk to grab both our bags.

I kept quiet, still shocked he was being nice considering how rude and cold I’d been, but I suppose some people were just better than me in that department. I didn’t want to but it felt like the right thing in a sense.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder, drawing me from the twilight zone I had fallen into.

“Here my key, D6. I’ll be up in a second I need to help Ms. Anderson feed her animals”

He didn’t wait a second as he dropped the keys into my hand and began walking to an apartment here on the bottom floor. I quickly caught up, running through the glass door just as they were about to close.

When I had made it in he had disappeared, I simply shrugged and made my way over to the elevator. The light elevator music calmed my nerves and I found floor D and smashed the button.

The light music that rang throughout was oddly calming considering I was in an FBI Agents apartment. The guilt slowly was slowly reaching me, as I know I haven’t been exactly the most inviting and they might be trying to help, but I couldn’t but think back to my poor sister.

The ding broke me from my daydream, shaking my head and looking ahead to the short hall. I slowly stepped from the elevator and spotted the Agent in question leaning against his door, hand in pocket as he waited.

“How did you beat me?”

“I took the stairs, much faster and safer.”

I watched him eye the elevator, the way he looked at it like one of those evil guys they catch. I was going to make a joke, but I decided maybe I should get nice for a few moments, as he hadn’t done anything to me personally I suppose.

I handed him the eye, his hands pulled themself from his pocket and let himself unlock the door. He held it open for me, which I returned with another nod and walked into the apartment.

It smells exactly like the sweater I still wore, the green walls with many bookshelves were a nice touch if I would say. I slowly made my way over to the couch, not taking a sit but setting my bag on the leather vintage material.

The clean atmosphere of the apartment was nice, and reminded me of Jerick almost and how he would come into my apartment when I was showering. I wonder how Jerick was enjoying himself with Polly Pocket. I snapped, trying to refrain from nicknames.

That when I spotted a large zombie looking head hanging from his bookshelf, smiling to myself when I slowly walked to it and pointed to it.

“What’s this?”

I turned, finding that Agent Boy, Reid, was nowhere to be seen. I frowned, letting my bottom lip lock out as I made my way around the apartment, looking from a pillow and a blanket from a nice cozy spot on the couch for tonight.

As I was looking under the old TV stand, that didn’t have a TV, may I say, I heard my name being called in a panic. As I went to stand up I felt my head slam into the top, a headache already forming as I fell back on my butt.

I heard footstep hurry to where I now sat on the ground, the mauve color converse caught my eye.

“I- are you okay?”

I nodded my head, slowly nodding as I rubbed it a few more times before looking up to him. He bent down, grabbing my face in-between his fingers. I went to pull back but he kept a firm grip on my face.

“I’m checking to see if you have a concussion,” his voice was from, causing me to stop my struggle and look into my eyes. I felt suddenly unsure, wiggling slightly as he held his finger out and slightly asked from my eyes to follow it.

“I didn’t know you were that type of Doctor.”

Shut up (Y/N).

“Huh?”

He let his finger fall, waiting for me to explain myself.

“You said you were a doctor, it was supposed to be a joke,” I casually explained, trying not to embarrass myself more the longer I spoke.

“Oh,” he slowly nodded, pulling his bottom lip in-between his teeth, sitting on the floor across from me as awkward silence filled the room.

“It was a bad joke,” I slowly stood up, feeling the pain in my head but ignoring it as I stood up.

“Uhm, where are the blankets?”

He looked up at me, slowly pushing himself from the floor as he examined me.

“Why?”

“So I can sleep on the couch tonight?”

I pointed over my shoulder in the direction of said couch.

“Oh no, you can take my room and I can make a pallet on the floor.”

While the gesture was sweet I felt like it was unfair to push someone from their own bed, especially with the way I’ve been acting.

“No i-”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you out of my sight right now, with everything I mean and it’s fine really. I’ve slept in more uncomfortable hotels.”

His eyes scanned me as he rocked on his heels, slowly waiting for me to respond.

“Okay that’s fine.”

I turned around uncomfortable with the eye contact, the anger inside of me boiling. He was nice, but the system he worked from was corrupt so unless he realized that he was just as bad as the rest.

I noticed the grocery store bag on the counter, something I had completely forgotten about. I felt bad for the way I acted but I guess my attitude had become a part of me, which didn’t excuse it but it was the truth.

“Are we still making Shepherd's Pie?”

“Oh uhm- yeah sure.”

I didn’t wait for him to get up and I made my way to the kitchen. I heard his phone ding but I ignored it as I slowly took things from the bag and placed them on the counter.

“Garcia can’t find anything about Jerick from up til a few years ago,” Agent said, coming to the opposite side of the counter to me.

“Look under Jennifer, it’s his deadname.”

Spencer said nothing as he watched me, my anger boiling waiting from him to say something.

“I’m sorry we didn’t know he was trans,” he spoke sincerely, something I was grateful for.

“I’m not Jerick so I can’t accept this apology but you have been nothing but respectful to him so I doubt he would mind.”

Spencer nodding, texting the tech girl back quickly.

“Why didn’t she ask him herself?”

“Wanted to make sure it wasn’t something we should be worried about,” he answered quickly, shoving his phone back in his pocket while placing his hand on the counter.

“Okay where is the recipe book?”

“I don’t have one,” he brushed it off, reaching over and grabbing a few of the ingredients from in front of me and placing them in the bowl. I unwrapped the crust, looking at him with bewildered eyes.

“Why not?”

“I read the recipe in a bookstore years ago,” he brushed off like it was nothing, I had forgotten he was like Jimmy Neutron or something.

He suddenly laughed, something that shocked me.

“I had a friend that made me dress up as him from Halloween,” he spoke with nostalgia, something I hadn’t seen on him before. I mean I’d only known him from maybe a day but still, it was weird to say the least.

“My sister loved that show,” I spoke softly, almost sad to even bring her up.

“You have a sister?”

“Had,” I was quick to correct him, somewhat mad but more so sad.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t ask, which I was grateful for, just putting the ingredients in the crust and putting in the oven, which was apparently already hot.

“I’m sorry I was impossible to be around,” my words had no emotion but it was enough for him as he accepted the apology and said he understood.

I put the last dish into the sink and made my way to the bedroom, the sweater he had let him borrow discarded as I now wore my own. My footsteps were light, most of the apartment dark as we both decided to head to bed quickly with a “long day ahead of us” as he said.

Dinner was awkward to say the least, barely any talking just sitting across from each other and eating. Maybe it wasn’t that awkward but without my talking I couldn’t distract my brain from the seriousness of it all.

There was a murderer out there looking for me, and I couldn’t even tell anyone why because I didn’t even know. It was only a matter of time before the kills got more personally, as they were mostly people I’d only known somewhat.

I slipped myself into the bed, careful of Reid who slept peacefully on the floor beside the bed, a gun in his hand as he “protected” me.

As soon as my back hit the soft nature of the bed all the tiredness left me, which was more annoying than the fact it was an FBI Agent's bed.

I tossed and turned because I don’t know how long before Reid started talking in his sleep.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune-”

I registered that the words were from Pride and Prejudice so I ignored the fact that he most likely wasn’t asleep and let the words bring me from this cruel world into another, only in my dreams.

criminal minds tag list:

@itsarayofsunshine @m-n-m @aquarius-pisces-rose @victomizedbyreginageorge @avaxreid @erinxneil @cclovesanime

spencer reid tag list:

@writtenbywolfie

ew, it’s the government tag list:

@thatsonezesty13 @spencerslatte @pianofirepirate @ellvswriting @peterspickledpepper @erinxneil @friendlyweirdobaby @thatsastro @acambridge @spideyparkerstark @ameliamonster @thecraziestcrayon @hurricane-abigail @linthebinbag @m-n-m @reid-lover @drreidshands @l0ve-0f-my-life @avaxreid @baby-iyania @victomizedbyreginageorge @gubler-io @duskangxl @bonitaangel @koc-help @liaabsurd @achieveonyourown @non-binary-nightmare @crimeshowtrash @libradolan @sataninsatin @martinafigoli @randogirlo-fando-main

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #bau #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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rubysunnday · 4 years

Note

maybe just like a little timeline fic with john and shelby!sis and how they were there for each other and john being there when she gets married (or you can write whatever you like). thank youu! x

A/N: this is long because I got far too into it

When Y/N Shelby was born, John had been the first one to hold her. Mainly because Polly was struggling to manage a new born baby and their mother who’d suffered a long and tedious birth. She was shoved into his arms and then he was kicked out the room.

John stood on the landing, holding his newborn baby sister in his arms, rocking her awkwardly as she just laid there. He didn’t know what to do with a baby - yes he had several kids of his own, but they were his, and weren’t his little sister - and just held her until Arthur came and took her off him.

Growing up, neither John or Y/N were very close - both yelling at each other more than they actually talked. Y/N was closer with Tommy and Ada and spent most of her younger years around them. John watched silently as Tommy taught Y/N to ride, read and write. He could see the adoration in her eyes whenever Tommy was talking and it hurt.

John grew close with Finn when he arrived eight years later and for some reason wished he had that relationship with his youngest sister. Instead, they constantly screamed and fought with one another.

Until the Great War.

Y/N had clung to all three of her brothers, not wanting them to leave. She’d let John go first and he felt his chest ache with jealously as she sobbed into Tommy’s chest.

But two years into the endless war, John received a letter from his sister. She was sixteen, now, and he’d been surprised when the letter, with her elegant scrawl on the envelope, arrived. He’d opened it, smiling sadly at the photo she’d put inside the letter of her, wearing a new dress.

She’d grown up a lot in the two years he’d been gone. She was no longer a a little girl but, instead, a young woman who took after her mother.

“She looks like you, mate,” one of his fellow soldiers said, catching John tracing the photo with his finger.

John frowned. “Really?”

HIs friend nodded. “Yeah, she’s got your eyes.”

John looked at the photo again and realised what his friend meant. He smiled, tucking the photo inside his coat, next to his heart.

He unfolded the letter and began reading it, his heart aching as he caught a whiff of the perfume Tommy had bought her before they left.

‘Dearest John,

Hi. I’m sorry I haven’t written before now. I didn’t quite know what to write to you. Unlike Tommy and Arthur, writing to you didn’t come naturally.

I think it’s because we weren’t ever that close. Not like I was with Arthur and Tommy. But, the truth is, John, I miss you the most. I miss you teasing me, annoying me, helping me get ready in the mornings. I just miss you.

It’s been weird turning sixteen and not having you around. I wonder how much we’ll have to catch up on when you return. Because you will, John, I know you will.

Ada and Polly bought me a new dress - the one I’m wearing in the photo - for my birthday. Truth be told, however, I’ve been wearing your old clothes more than I have my own. Your trousers fit me when I roll them up, as does your shirt. I hope you don’t mind, it’s just helping me get through this.

Whatever this is.

Anyway, Finn’s being a pain, as usual. He wanted to write this letter with me but I didn’t want him to. I just wanted it to be from me, to you.

Not even Tommy and Arthur’s letters are this long. Maybe because I don’t miss them as much as I do you. I know nothing will be the same once this is all over - but at least you’ll be back.

When you get back we should go down to London and see a show, or something. Just us two.

I could go on for pages, John, but I don’t think you’ll have a chance to read everything I want to tell you. I miss you, truly.

Lovingly yours,

Y/N/N x’

John felt his eyes burning as he finished the letter. He blinked furiously as he tucked the letter with the photo, making sure not the rip the paper it was so delicately written on.

Over the next two years, John received a letter from his sister every month. He treasured them all, but none so much as the one he got from her on her eighteenth birthday.

It was bitterly cold that day. The 15th February had always been a cold day, no matter when or where. That’s why he found it funny that his sweet, warm sister had been born on that day.

He’d been handed a giant parcel and frowned when he looked at the label.

‘Didn’t feel right not to share - Y/N/N’

John untied the string and unwrapped the numerous layers of paper wrapped around the tin. He lifted the lid and laughed - properly laughed for the first time in months - at the entire cake his sister had fitted inside it. He was certain Polly had made it for her for her birthday. Only two slices had been removed and he smiled, shaking his head as he pulled out the letter that came with it.

‘Hey, John,

So, I thought you deserved a cake. The other two slices are for Tommy and Arthur but I thought you and your regiment could have the rest of it. It doesn’t feel right not sharing it with you all.

Eighteen is meant to be a big celebration but with everything going on, I’d rather wait a while until we’re all together again.

Miss you,

Y/N/N’

Y/N had included another photo with her letter and John couldn’t help but be shocked at how much she’d grown up in two years. She was still his little sister, she still looked like him, ironically, but she looked grown - up.

John suddenly realised just how much of her life he’d missed. He set the photo and the letter in his pocket, adding it to the bundle he had, and began splitting up the cake for his regiment.

Nine months later and the war was over. John got on the train home a week later. He found Tommy and Arthur at a random train station in Kent when they had to switch trains and the three of them traveled up to Birmingham together.

When they arrived at Birmingham train station, the platform was packed with people, all waiting for their loved ones.

Somehow, Y/N managed to find them first.

John caught sight of her running through the crowd and fully expected her to hug Tommy or Arthur first.

He was caught completely off guard when she all but launched herself at him.

John caught her, stumbling back from the force of her hug. She clung to him, sobbing and laughing as he hugged her back just as tightly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” John said as Finn and Ada ran to Arthur and Tommy.

“I missed you,” Y/N whispered, still crying, as she buried her face into his neck. Once she’d greeted Tommy and Arthur, she didn’t let go of John. She held his hand, refusing to let go even as they got into the car to drive back to Watery Lane.

The first night back home was bizarre. John couldn’t sleep - everything was too quiet, warm and comfortable.

His door creaked open and he sat up as Y/N walked in, hair a tangled mess of curls.

“Hey,” she whispered, walking over to him and laying down next to him.

John, surprised because Y/N never came into his room, relaxed as she curled up against him, her legs tangling with his.

“Why you up?”

“Needed a pee. You?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Y/N hummed, snuggling closer to John. He gently swept her hair out of her face as he pulled the blankets over them both.

“Don’t wake me up,” Y/N muttered as she began to doze off against her brother.

John laughed quietly, shifting so he was laying down next to her, an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t.”

Having his sister asleep next to him, and feeling her heart beating, John slowly fell asleep.

“I feel stupid.”

“Don’t, you look lovely.”

Y/N glanced at her brother as he sat down next to her, sliding a glass of whiskey over to her. “Where’s your wife?”

“Dancing like a madwoman.”

Y/N smiled. “Feels weird knowing you’re married again.”

“Yeah, thanks for fucking telling me.”

Y/N raised a hand up in surrender. “I didn’t know until Polly told me ten minutes before you, hun.”

“Ahuh.”

Y/N sighed quietly, drinking her drink. “John...”

“Mmm?”

“I know I’m old enough to live by myself...but would you and Esme mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

John raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Y/N shrugged. “Just...I feel safer with you two.”

John nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled again, this time it seemed more genuine, and John nudged her shoulder with a smile as she giggled, drinking more of her drink.

It all happened far too quickly.

There was a yell.

A gunshot.

More yelling.

Y/N could only stare as Grace fell back into Tommy, the shooter being tackled to the ground by Arthur.

The room faded away - as did the screams of panic - as Y/N stared at Grace dying in her husband’s arms.

She fell onto the ground, dress spilling out around her, as she just stared, the entire thing playing over in her mind again, and again, and again, and again, and again -

“Y/N?”

She couldn’t look away, even as Tommy lowered his head, shoulder’s shaking.

John knelt down in front of his sister, ignoring the blood on his shirt and hands. He gently turned her face to look at him as her breathing picked up.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said, putting both hands either side of her face and forcing him to look at her.

Y/N didn’t care that John was getting blood on her face and her dress. She stared at him, her gaze locking onto his as he became her focus.

“Just breathe, alright?” He said calmly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just breathe, you’re alright.” Y/N’s hand shakily grabbed John’s, gripping it tightly as she leant forward and hugged him tightly, clinging onto him.

John caught her and hugged her back. He glanced behind and knew Grace was gone when he saw Polly hugging her nephew tightly. John turned back to his sister, pressing a kiss to her head, as she shook in his arms.

“I’ve got you, you’re alright, my love,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

Y/N hadn't slept. She’d tossed and turned, walked about, read a few chapters, watched the night sky and nothing had helped.

She sighed, untangling herself from the blankets and standing up, grabbing John’s old coat. She wrapped it around herself and quietly crept down the stairs of her cottage.

Her husband - to - be was out with Finn, both of them promising to not get stoned or drunk before the wedding.

Y/N opened the gate and quietly walked her way down the path and across the field, towards John’s house.

She knew he’d be awake. He always woke up at ridiculous hours now - apparently it gave him time to tend to the sheep and horses before the children woke, but she knew he secretly enjoyed the quiet time he got with his two dogs.

Y/N found him halfway down the field, walking along the wall, his two dogs running around excitedly.

Upon seeing her, the dogs charged towards her, tails wagging excitedly as she bent down and greeted them.

“Hello,” John said, smiling as she was ambushed by the dogs.

“Admit it, you like being up early,” she said, standing up.

John shrugged. “It’s quiet. Nice. Good for thinking.”

“Now I’m concerned,” Y/N teased, smiling at him. “Why are you awake?” He asked, eyes narrowing in concern.

Y/N shrugged, unconsciously playing with her ring. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Having second thoughts?” John asked, perching himself on the wall.

“No, no...I just...” Y/N trailed off, sitting down next to him. “I realised I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle, yet. And I’m getting married in about ten hours.”

“Who you thinking of asking?” John asked, leaning on the walking stick he’d brought with him.

“One of you three,” she replied quietly. “I mean, Arthur, as the oldest, should technically be the one to do it.”

“But?”

“Well, I haven't spoken to him in weeks. I haven’t actually since him for weeks.” She shuddered. “Fucking Linda.”

John laughed. “Fucking Linda. What about Tommy?”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m sorry, did you miss our spectacular argument three weeks ago? The relationship I had with Tommy before the war is long gone, John. I tried, I did. But when it’s just you trying to make it work, it gets tiring quickly.”

John nodded. “Alright, so, Arthur is a no and Tommy is a no. What about Michael?”

“Michael wasn’t on my list, John.”

“Finn?”

“Still wasn’t on the list.”

“Isaiah?”

“Bit difficult considering he’s the one I’m marrying.”

John paused, thinking. “I can’t think of who’s left.”

Y/N stared at him. “Have you lost brain cells? How fucking stupid can you get!”

“Excuse me? What the fuck?” John asked, gaping at her.

“John, I want you to talk me down the aisle, you twat!” Y/N exclaimed loudly.

John stared at her. “What, why me?”

Y/N shrugged. “Well, you’re the only brother who hasn’t managed to piss me off these past few months.” She sighed quietly. “John, I don’t want anyone else walking me down the aisle and giving me away. Maybe, years ago, I would’ve wanted Tommy or Arthur but, truth is, I haven't been close with them for a while. Ever since Grace died, we’ve drifted apart. But you have always stuck by me.

“When I first dated Isaiah, you stuck up for me when everyone else was telling me to dump him. You were the first person I let him meet as my boyfriend. He asked your permission to marry me. John, I don’t see who else it could be.”

John stared at Y/N, mouth slightly agape. “I...”

“Is that a yes?” She asked, looking at him hopefully.

John nodded, bringing her in for a hug. “Fucking hell, of course, Y/N.”

Y/N giggled. “Good, because it’s in forty minutes.”

“What?”

Y/N chuckled at John’s shocked expression. “Well, since everyone was basically organising our wedding for us, Isaiah and I decided we’d do a small ceremony before hand, just me, him, Ada and you.”

“Yes, I remember that particular meltdown,” John muttered.

“Can you blame me?” Y/N exclaimed. “Everyone wanted it their own way, Isaiah and I got lost in the chaos, I refused to let anyone except Ada come with me to choose my dress because I knew what was going to happening.”

“Linda wanted it to be religious.”

“Fucking Linda,” Y/N muttered. She turned to face her brother. “So, will you walk me down the aisle in forty minutes?”

John nodded, standing up and hugging Y/N, lifting her off the ground as he did so. “And I’ll do it again this afternoon.”

The sun had barely risen by the time Y/N, John, Ada and Isaiah were at the church. Jeremiah had agreed to officiate, knowing how much his son was beginning to regret not eloping.

Ada had done Y/N’s hair in elegant curls, pinning a flower crown of violets, myrtle and roses upon her curls.

Y/N hadn’t gone for a huge, expensive, fancy dress. It was an old one she’d found in a shop and fixed up by herself - using scraps of her mother’s old wedding dress.

The bouquet of flowers she held were from her cottage garden and were tied with a piece of ribbon from a birthday present John had given her years ago.

John smiled as Y/N slipped her arm through his. “You look stunning.”

Y/N smiled softly, pulling her veil over her shoulder. “Thank you.” She sighed nervously, gripping John’s suit jacket tightly.

“You alright?” He asked, grasping her hand with his.

She nodded. “I’m glad that this afternoon won’t be the actual one,” she said quietly. “All those people. Most of whom, I don’t know!”

John laughed. “I say we runaway after the reception. I’ll drive you and Isaiah up to York and take the hit, how’s that?”

Y/N nodded. “Perfect. York’s lovely.”

John chuckled, shaking his head as his sister giggled. He reached behind her and carefully pulled the veil up and over her face.

“Didn’t think we were doing tradition,” Y/N said as John straightened it out, straightening her flower crown.

“I want to do it properly,” he replied, kissing her cheek through the veil.

The organ inside the church started up and Y/N sighed, nodding to herself as John let go of her arm for a moment, straighten her dress and veil.

“You’re worse than me,” she muttered as she took his arm again, resting her arm in the crook of his.

“I just want my sister to look perfect.”

Y/N blushed, smiling up at him. “Look at us,” she muttered as her cue approached. “We’ve gone from hating one another to you walking me down the aisle at 8 o’clock in the morning on the eve of bloody Halloween.”

“Can’t believe they voted down your Halloween date,” John muttered.

“Fucking Linda,” Y/N said, winking at him.

John chuckled. “Fucking Linda.”

The cue for them both to walk down the aisle arrived and sister and brother began walking through the archway.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered as Isaiah and Ada approached.

“It’s my genuine pleasure,” John replied, smiling broadly.

They stopped in front of Jeremiah and Isaiah and Y/N handed her bouquet of flowers to Ada. John turned to face his little sister and gently lifted the veil off her face, careful not to upset her crown of flowers. He kissed her cheek and held her hand out to Isaiah.

“Look after her,” he warned as Isaiah took it, smiling.

“Always,” Isaiah replied, winking at Y/N as she giggled quietly.

As John turned to go, Y/N reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

John smiled at her as he squeezed back, letting go and standing next to Ada.

He couldn’t help the swell of pride as he watched his little sister marry her childhood sweetheart, wearing the bracelet he’d bought her for her twentieth. John couldn’t hide the tears of joy as she kissed her husband, Isaiah tilting her backwards and causing her to giggle.

Even as they stood at the back of the chapel, both trying not to murder the many people standing around them, fussing with Y/N’s veil and hair.

“If I did commit murder,” Y/N muttered as Polly reached up and adjusted her hair for the fifth time that minute, “would you bail me out?”

“Y/N, I’d fucking murder them with you,” John replied, glaring at Arthur as he went to snort some cocaine. “Arthur, don’t you fucking dare.”

“And, if I happened to get the death sentence for the mass murder of my entire family bar three people?”

“I’d die for you. Or, I’d die alongside you because I murdered half of them,” John replied.

“Oh my fucking god!” Y/N yelled as Linda went on another ranting at Lizzie as Arthur began taking the piss out of Finn. “All of you, fuck off!”

“You heard her,” John replied, glaring at them all as they went to speak. “Fuck off.”

Begrudgingly, the people who’d been surrounding them left and headed towards their seats, leaving John and Y/N alone once again.

“Finally,” Y/N muttered, moving her hair, crown, veil and dress back to where she’d put them. “So, if I died, you’d die with me?”

“If I couldn’t stop it, yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Why?” John asked, frowning at the morbid topic.

“I just wondered,” Y/N replied quietly. “We should share a funeral wagon.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Alright, why are we talking about this?”

“I’m a morbid person, Johnny,” Y/N replied, shrugging. “Just, answer the question.”

John rolled his eyes fondly. “Fine. We could share one. Get them to put us next to one another in our best clothes.”

“And then buried together on the hill.”

“You’ve really got it all planned out, haven’t you?”

“Can't take any chances when you’re a Shelby,” Y/N replied, smiling.

John lifted the veil over Y/N’s face, once more, as she sighed quietly. “Y/N, listen. I will lay down my life, for you.”

Y/N turned her head to look at him. John could see her eyes glistening behind the veil as she smiled sadly. “I know, John. But I would lay down my life for you, too.”

“Guess we better die together, then,” John said, straightening up as the music begun.

“We’d better, otherwise one of us is gonna have to commit suicide,” Y/N replied, gripping his arm.

John shook his head as they begun walking down the aisle. He would never let his sister die before him. He’d said it all her life but he’d die before he let anyone harm her.

The reception after the wedding was complete chaos.

There were several fights, lots of arguments and John had lost Y/N shortly after the meal.

He found her sitting on the edge of the river, quietly dropping flowers from the hall into the water.

“I’m impressed,” he said, sitting down next to her. “You didn’t murder anyone.”

“My husband stopped me,” she replied, chucking a flower into the water. “He also yelled at Tommy and Arthur for me.”

“I heard,” John replied, smirking. “I keep thinking about dying,” Y/N said suddenly. “I don’t know why. Maybe because of all the graves around the church.”

“What you thinking about?” John asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“What I'd do if you died.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Y/N, look at me.”

Y/N turned to look at her brother and he could see the tears in her eyes. He wiped a stray one away with his thumb, resting his hand on her cheek.

“When I die - because we’re all gonna die one day - you’ll keep going.”

“And if you die next year? Or next month?” Y/N asked, staring at him sadly. “John, I don't know if I could live with myself.”

“Y/N Shelby - Jesus,” John said, putting his other hand on her face and stroking her cheek gently. “You are going to live a long, happy life and be married for years,” he replied. “And whatever happens will happen.”

“And if we die at the same time, we’re sharing a wagon and a pot.”

“Wagon, yes, pot no. I need my space.”

“John, we’ll be dead. We wouldn’t know.”

John raised an eyebrow. “I’d know.” He shrugged. “Besides, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that for a while.”

Y/N nodded sadly, nestling against her brother as the sun began to set behind them. “I love you.”

John kissed her head. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

John didn’t know then that his sister’s marriage would last merely two months before she was shot dead on his doorstep.

There was an irony at the fact they’d decided what to do if they died together. It was almost as if they knew.

As Y/N Shelby-Jesus and John Shelby lay dying on the stones, John grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

In the end, John watched his sister die before him.

#peaky blinder fanfic #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #shelby sis #shelby!sister #shelby sister #john shelby x sister!reader

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