I will change the world for the better, mark my words. | XXI | Perhaps a hopeless romantic. | 🇲🇽 | @missyflufffics | @missystudentboycott | #dgeekwrites
girl help i’m starting over again for the 1000th time & i’m beginning to think that life is a never-ending cycle of starting over & i actually have to make peace with that in order to move forward
anyway jeff bezos could eradicate homelessness. he could literally give each homeless person 100k and it would only take less than .5% of his entire wealth. what the actual god giving fuck
Well shelter is a basic need, and would at the very least allow them a place where they can get back on their feet. Food water and shelter are necessary for a healthy body and psychology. There’s also the fact that they’re people too, and a little help goes a long way in making a decent community. There’s plenty of reasons
You have five hundred apples, and just one day to eat them all.
You pass by a small crowd of hungry children, and decide you’d rather 455 apples go rotten than give them to some snotty brat who isn’t your problem.
It doesn’t matter how hard you’ve worked for your 500 apples, or that you aren’t the parent of any of those kids. in the moment you decide to walk away, it doesn’t matter why they’re hungry, or who owes who what.
You had the opportunity to help people, you had the ability to help people, you had the resources to help people. You had everything you needed to make a small, tiny little difference in someone’s life, and you decided not to.
What are you going to buy in your lifetime that’s worth more to you than your own humanity?
His voice wasn’t hoarse anymore, it was violent, full of something untamed. His hands, usually so sure, were shaking. Bloody. Still warm from the damage he’d done.
Her lip was split and her eye darkening, but she wasn’t crying.
He was the one who looked like he might fall apart.
“You think I’d just let them fuckin' get away with it?” he growled, stepping forward. “You think I’d sit around while some fuck puts his fuckin' hands on you?”
“John…” she warned.
But he was already in front of her, breathing heavily. He wasn’t shouting because he was angry at her, he was shouting because he didn’t know how else to carry what he’d done.
“I buried him,” he spat. “I put a bullet in his skull and didn’t think twice.”
Her eyes widened. “Jesus, John—”
“Don’t blame me, yeah?” he bit out. “I told you, this isn’t just you. This is me, too. Your pain is mine. Your blood, your fear, it’s fuckin' mine.”
They were close now. Too close. His forehead pressed to hers, their chests rising and falling like they were on the verge of another war, but this time, not with the world.
With each other.
“You should hate me for it,” he said quietly. “I don’t regret it one bit, you hear me?”
But she didn’t flinch. Not once.
Instead, she grabbed his shirt, fingers curling tight in the fabric, voice barely a whisper. “You think I’m scared of you?”
John’s breath caught.
“You think I don’t know exactly who you are?” she went on, voice shaking now. Not with fear. With feeling. “I never wanted a man who’d run. I wanted a man who’d burn down the world if someone hurt me.”
He stared at her, stunned to silence.
“You got him,” he said finally, rough and low. “You fuckin' got him.”
She didn’t respond with words, just pulled him to her, mouths crashing in a kiss that had no subtlety and no gentleness. It was teeth, hands and fire.
When they broke apart, gasping, she muttered, “Lock the door, Johnny.”
He didn’t even look away from her when he reached back and turned the key.
Warnings: violence, cursing, weapons, blood, let me know if I missed any :)
Pairings: Shelby family x sister reader
*not my gif*
Summary: Growing up as a Shelby wasn’t always easy, but at least your siblings were always there for you
A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!
Inspired by: The Jet Song by the cast of West Side Story
Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work
When you're a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way
“Well, would ya look at that,” Tommy mused, the slightest bit of amusement dancing in his eyes as he spoke.
At his words, John and Arthur looked up from their breakfasts in confusion before following their brothers line of sight to where you were waddling into the room, one of their caps upon your head.
Arthur let out a booming laugh and scooped you up into his arms, playfully rubbing his mustache against your cheek, emitting giggles from you, “Would ya look at that!” He agreed.
“Where’d ya get that?” John asked, reaching up and gently shaking your foot.
You began blabbering to your older brothers, ignoring the fact that the hat had fallen into your face, covering your eyes. Arthur calmly lifted it up, seriously nodding as if he could understand a single thing that you were trying to say.
“Give ‘er here,” Tommy ordered gruffly, standing up and gently taking you from his elder brother's arms, eyes softening as you looked up at him with that toothy grin of yours, “What’re ya doin’?” He asked in amusement.
“I think she’s ready to be a Peaky Blinder, Tommy,” John laughed as the other man had to lift up the hat away from your face again.
“Is that so?” He asked teasingly, reaching out and ticking your stomach a little bit, “You gonna be the leader of the Blinders now, little one?”
Arthur laughed again, “We don’t need you anymore, Tommy, we’ve got Y/n.” He said jokingly.
“I think you might be right, Arthur,” He said seriously, “Looks like n/n can handle it from here.”
You began blabbering again after a loud laugh, making your brothers all chuckle around you.
“We’ve got our own little Peaky Blinder here.” John declared.
From your first cigarette
“Come on now,” Finn said impatiently, “Hold it for me.”
Without a word, you did as your brother demanded, taking the object in your hands and looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Finn Shelby.” The furious voice of your aunt made the boy tense up and freeze instantly.
“Polly,” He gulped, slowly turning around to face the woman.
The look on her face alone was enough to put him six feet under on the spot. He didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen to him.
“You better tell me right now why the hell my three year old niece is holding a cigarette, and if you don’t say that you found her like this, then you have something else coming for you.” The threat made him pale even further and his blood ran cold.
Oblivious to what was going on, you grinned up at your aunt, “Pol! Pol!” You cheered happily, dropping the cigarette and reaching your hands up to her.
Instantly, she stooped down and swept you into her arms, you snuggling closer to her hold without a second thought as your eyes fluttered shut and you sighed in contempt.
“What’s all the bloody racket in here?” Arthur inquired, stalking onto the room with Tommy following right behind.
“Your youngest brother tried handing a cigarette to your sister.” Polly didn’t once take her venomously dangerous glare off of the young boy.
By then, his eyes had begun to fill with tears, only for them to spring loose when the two older men’s heads snapped over to him.
“Finn,” Tommy spoke in that eerie stern voice that only he seemed to be able to master, “Is what she’s saying true?”
“I-I just wanted to be like you guys!” Finn sobbed openly, dropping his head into his hands, “I wanted to smoke and be like you!”
“And you though’ that makin’ our little sister hold your cigarette was the way to do that?” Arthur asked angrily, glowering at the boy.
He shook his head vigorously back and forth, “N-no!” He hiccuped, “I just had to do somethin’ so I needed her to hold in for a minute!”
“Oi!” Polly snapped in a harsh whisper, “Hush now, Y/n has fallen asleep.” She leveled a last glare at Finn, “We’ll deal with this later, young man.”
To your last dyin' day
A joyful laugh left your lips as you ran as fast as your little legs would take you down the alleyway.
True, Tommy and Arthur had told you to stay on the sidewalk where they could see you while you played, but it didn’t hurt to go for a little run to see how fast you could make it back.
Now five years old, you were constantly getting into mischief, reminding Polly too much of how the boys were when they were little.
You hadn’t been looking where you were going, your gaze was turned up towards the brightly lit sky, so you didn’t see the person standing in the middle of the alley until you ran right into his legs.
Stumbling slightly at impact, you quickly fell onto your backside with a small ‘oof’, a stinging sensation quickly making its way through your body from the pavement.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” A malicious voice snarled from above you, causing your head to snap up with wide eyes.
The man whose legs you ran into was sneering down at you from the end of his greasy nose. And to you, he looked downright terrifying.
“I-I’m sorry Mr,” You mumbled with wide eyes, slowly crawling backwards, “It was an accident.”
He shot you a sinister smile, slowly stalking towards you, “Was it now?” He hummed mockingly.
Your head bobbed up and down as you nodded desperately, “It was, I swear it was!”
The man shook his head softly and clicked his tongue, “Now, I’m findin’ myself not really believing you, girl.”
You could feel your face pale even more at his words, “I’m sorry!” You tried again, panic swirling in your stomach. This man scared you, and you didn’t like it.
“Listen here, you little-“ He snarled, storming over to you and snatching your arm in a bruising grip and squeezing while dragging you to your feet, making you cry out in pain.
“What is going on here?” Despite the deadliness of the calm in his voice, you still sagged in relief the second you heard Tommy speak.
“Nothin’ to worry about, Mr. Shelby. Just takin’ care of this little bitch.” From the way he spoke about you, it was clear as day that he didn’t know who you were.
“Is that so?” There was no mistaking the flash of complete rage that appeared on your brother's face, “And what does my baby sister have to do with that?”
If you thought your face had been pale before, it was nothing compared to how the man looked when all the color drained from his face instantly. He let go of your arm, stumbling away as if having been burned by the contact of your skin.
As soon as you were free, you scrambled over to Tommy, hiding behind his legs and burying your face into his coat that hung near your head.
“M-Mr. Sh-Shelby,” He immediately began begging, “I-I swear to god I didn’t know who she was-“
“Clearly,” Tommy cut him off coldly.
“Listen- listen, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, I never would have done that if I had known-“ Tears had begun cascading down his cheeks.
“But ya did, didn’ ya?” He questioned rhetorically, “And now you’re gonna have to pay the price for messin’ with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders.”
A hand reached out and touched your shoulder and you flinched away immediately, not having heard someone approach. Whipping your head around, you were met with the sight of Arthur, holding his arms out to you.
After one glance at Tommy for confirmation, you grabbed onto your eldest brother's hand and followed him out the alley. When you tried to look back, Arthur simply turned your head away and quickened your pace to get you out of there.
Silence carried on in your absence for a moment, Tommy letting it drag on until the man looked like he quite literally was going to suffocate from it.
“Did ya see that?” He asked quietly, taking slow, menacing steps towards the man, “Did ya see how jumpy she was after what ya did to her? How she flinched away from Arthur?”
“Please, please- I’m begging you-“ The man had quite literally backed himself into a corner, his head frantically whipping around to try and find a way out.
“You scared my little sister,” He carried on, “You hurt her. And something like that… is unforgivable.”
Arthur closed the door to the house particularly loudly just in time for a gunshot to go off, silencing it slightly from your ears.
When you're a Jet
“What’d ya want?” Harry asked jokingly, leaning over the counter of the Garrison so he could look at you, “A drink?”
You giggled loudly at his words and shook your head, “Polly says I can't be drinkin’ anything from here yet!” You replied with a wide grin.
“Now, is that so?” He tapped his chin as if thinking about it, “I suppose your aunt is always right, though, ain’t she?”
You nodded your head in agreement, swinging your legs back and forth from the barstool you sat at.
“Oi!” John called, coming sauntering out of an office in the back, “Ya better not be lettin’ my little sister drink!” The smirk that played at the ends of his lips let you both know he was joking around.
“Nah!” Harry shook his head, “I tried to be cool and let her, but that little rascal is a rule follower, she is.”
John laughed loudly at that, reaching over and ruffling your hair, “That don’t sound like my sister.” He teased, “She don’t ever follow no rules.”
“She sounds like a certain group of boys I know.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.
“Now, what’re you insinuating?” John leaned back against a table and placed his hands in his pockets, “That she's actin’ like us Blinders?”
“I think so,” The man reached over and playfully flicked your nose, making you laugh so hard that you almost went tumbling off the stool.
“Okay, alright, that’s enough now.” John quickly lowered you to the ground, not trusting you not to fall off anymore.
“Imma Blinder!” You cheered, giving your brother a toothy grin.
He laughed, bending down and scooping you up, “Yeah, I suppose ya are.”
If the spit hits the fan, you got brothers around
“Yer nothin’ but a stupid little kid,” A boy a couple years older than you, about Finn's age, sneered down at you, his raised voice attracting the attention of the other students in the school yard.
Despite the tears that began to collect in your eye ducts, you glared at him, not backing down, “That isn’t true!”
Even though he was way taller and bigger than you were, you stood your ground. That is, until he gave you a shove back by the shoulders and you went sprawling to the ground.
He had been picking on you for having mud on your clothes after playing with a couple friends outside before school and even though you tried to walk away, he just wouldn’t leave you alone.
The crowd that had gathered around gasped when you hit the ground, clearly not expecting it to escalate that quickly and your cheeks turned red.
“Hey!” None other than Finn Shelby had pushed his way through the sea of kids with a glare set on his face that resembled that of your brothers.
“What do you want?” The kid rounded on him, glaring down at your brother, who was still at least a head shorter than him.
“That’s my sister.” Finn informed him through gritted teeth, as if the boy didn’t already know.
You sniffled slightly, scrambling up and making your way over to him, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention, “It’s okay, Finn.” You mumbled, “Let’s just go.” You didn't want either of you to get into any trouble.
He just shrugged off your hand though, sizing the boy up before reeling his arm back suddenly and without warning sent it flying into the boy's nose.
Almost instantly afterward, two teachers surged through the crowd and quickly pulled the two boys apart, the one that had been picking on you now crying and holding his nose.
You and your brother had to sit in the principal's office until one of your siblings or aunt showed up, the house having been called for one of them to come pick you up.
Not too long had passed before Tommy made his way through the door, demanding and controlling aura in tow.
He ignored the staff that tried speaking to him, immediately turning his attention to the two of you, “What happened, eh?” He demanded sternly.
“I saw this kid push Y/n,” Finn jumped up to explain, “So I punched him in the face! Just like you and Arthur taught me to!”
Your older brother's eyes quickly flickered over to you, giving your body a quick once over to ensure that you were alright.
“Okay,” He spoke before turning on his heel and exiting, leaving behind a stunned teacher and not turning back to see the two of you scramble up to follow.
After walking to the car, he opened the door and waited for you two to get in before sliding into his own side. He didn’t start the car though, just turned to you.
“Are you alright?” He asked softly, to which you nodded your head, “Lucky Finn was there, then, eh?”
“I could’ve hit him too,” You insisted.
His lips quirked up, “I know, but it’s still good to have some backup sometimes.”
You were silent for a moment before turning to Finn, “Thank you for helping me.”
“He didn’t have the right to push ya,” He grumbled while leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
You're a family man
“Game night! Game night!” You cheered, sprinting into the living room before diving head first onto the couch.
“Mind your head,” Polly scolded, “Don’t need ya hittin’ it too hard that we have to end up takin’ ya to the doctors.”
“But it’s game night!” You cheered, falling backwards onto the couch with a large grin overtaking the entirety of your face.
“Did somebody say game night?” Arthur’s voice boomed into the room before he even entered it, with a smile that could be heard through his tone.
“I did!” You chorused back, “And I’m going to beat all of you?”
“Is that so?” John strode into the room with Tommy and Finn following close behind.
“Uh huh!” You agreed, turning your face as serious as you could make it in order to try and get your point across.
“Hmm,” John tapped his chin and pretended to think, “That's weird, ‘cause if I remember correctly, I was the winner of the last game night. Not you.”
You pouted at him, crossing your arms, “Well, I’m gonna beat ya this time!”
“Ya think so?”
“I know so!”
Arthur chuckled at your words and even Tommy softened a bit at the interaction.
You're never alone
“T-Tommy?” You called out hesitantly in the darkness, voice wavering as you spoke.
The man’s eyes immediately snapped open and he shot up, hand flying out to grab the gun that was kept under his pillow, “Y/n?” He echoed back, squinting to try and make you out through the dark room, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I-I had a nightmare,” You admitted in a whisper, shuffling your feet and toying with your fingers.
His entire being immediately sagged in relief, fingers loosening around the weapon once he realized that you were in no physical danger. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew how much of a danger dreams could be, how they could affect one’s mind.
“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled, scooting over in the bed to make room, lifting up the blanket like an invitation.
You wasted no time before plunging onto the bed, cuddling up to your brother's chest, “Thank you,” You murmured shyly.
“No, need to thank me, sweetheart,” He mumbled, dipping his head so he could place a kiss on the top of your hair.
It was silent for a moment, and Tommy would’ve thought you had fallen back asleep if you hadn’t spoken up with an embarrassed whisper, “I know I’m eight now and I’m supposed to be a big girl, but it was really scary, Tommy.”
He let a small sign fall from his nose as he tightened his arms around you, “There’s no such thing as being too old for nightmares, sweetheart.”
You pulled away and looked up at him with wide eyes, “Really?”
He hummed, “I get them all the time.”
Your jaw was on the floor by then, “You do?” Never in a million years would you be able to picture your strong big brother having a bad dream.
“I do,” He repeated, “Do you want to talk about yours?”
Immediately, you shook your head into his chest, arms wrapping around his torso to the best of their abilities.
“Okay, alright,” He mumbled, leaving another kiss on your head, “You can go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything get you.”
You're never disconnected
You had no idea where you were. You spun around in circles but still couldn’t pinpoint your own location.
Earlier in the day, you had insisted to your brothers that they bring you to a marketplace that was in town, and they reluctantly relented and brought you. But now you couldn’t find them and the panic was starting to set in.
You gasped, whipping around when you felt a hand on your shoulder and were met with the sight of an unfamiliar man.
“Let go of me!” You demanded immediately, squirming out of his hold.
He raised his hands automatically, backing away from you, “Sorry, kid, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, “You didn’t scare me,” You grumbled.
“Hey, it’s alright. I work for your brothers.” He reassured you, but even though it was supposed to comfort you, it only made you even more suspicious of him.
Slowly, you took a step away from the stranger, ready to make a run for it, when the sound of thundering footsteps made you turn to your right, all your brothers rushing over to where you were.
“Oh, thank god,” John mumbled, coming to a stop and running a hand down his face when he saw you safe and sound.
“Daryl,” Tommy greeted, clearly knowing the man, “I am now in your debut. Thank you for taking care of her.”
The man, Daryl, tipped his hat to Tommy and shot you a playful wink, “‘twas my pleasure, boss. Just lucky I was in the area and saw her before anyone else did.”
You're home with your own
“You’re doin’ it wrong!” You insisted with a whine, bringing your foot down and stomping against the floor once.
“I’m following the directions!” Finn snapped back, “How am I doin’ it wrong if I’m following the directions?”
“You ain’t, though! You’re addin’ too much chocolate chips and not enough flour!” You were beginning to lose your temper with your brother.
He simply shrugged, “I don’t see the problem with havin’ any extra chocolate.” He tried to reason.
You dropped your head to the counter with a groan, “We need to make them special! We can’t do that if you don’t follow the recipe.”
Finn seemed to contemplate it for a moment before rolling his eyes with a sigh and beginning to undo what he had done, “Fine, we’ll follow your borin’ cookie recipe.”
“What’re you two doing?”
You both shrieked and whipped around at the sudden voice, coming face to face with Tommy, who had a single eyebrow raised in your direction.
“Makin’ cookies,” Your brother answered dumbly.
“No!” You shrieked, reaching over and slapping his arm, “It was supposed to be a surprise!”
The boy scowled, reaching up to rub the sore spot of where you had hit, “Not much of a secret, anyone could see what we’re doing.”
Tommy looked amused by the scene before him and put his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step out of the kitchen, “Just act like I wasn’t even ‘ere.”
You eagerly jumped on the opportunity and began shooing Finn back to what he was supposed to be doing to prepare the dessert.
When company's expected, you’re well protected
Tears silently ran down your cheeks as Polly held you close with a hand resting over your mouth, keeping you from making any noise to notify anyone of your presence.
A group of men had broken into your house while your brothers were out on business and began ransacking it. Your aunt had pulled you into a closet with her as soon as she had gotten wind of what was happening and hid the two of you behind an old pile of jackets.
“Shh, hush now,” She whispered as quietly as possible into your ear, “It’s alrigh’. We’re gonna be alrigh’.”
The walls muffled the exact words being spoken by the group of men, but you could still hear their voices and the sounds of their footsteps getting nearer and nearer to your hiding place.
“-thought you said the kid and old lady were still here,” You heard one of them grunt, meaning that they were a lot closer than before.
Polly held you tighter to her chest at his words.
“They are, I’ve been scouting outside this place all day and neither one of them has left.” A new voice shot back.
“Check the closets,” A third voice said, making you whimper softly.
Just then light poured into your small space, temporarily blinding you the second the door was roughly thrown open. Polly was quick to move you behind her, using her body as a shield against your own.
“I found them-“ He was cut off by the sound of multiple gunshots going off at once that automatically made your ears begin ringing, making it near impossible to hear anything else.
Slowly, you tried to peek around your aunt's body, but she quickly pushed you behind her once more, “Don’t look.” You could barely make out her words over the constant ringing.
“Giver ‘er ‘ere, Pol.” A voice- Tommy’s, you think- spoke through the haze, and you were carefully passed into the arms of your older brother, who maneuvered you in such a way that you couldn’t see the body’s that lay scattered all over the room, your other brothers standing over them to ensure that the job was done.
“You’re alright,” He whispered soothingly in your ear, striding out of the room with you as you desperately gasped for air and gripped onto his shirt like a lifeline, “You’re alright, I’ve gotcha now, I’ve gotcha.”
Sure, you’ve had scares in the past- it came with the line of work your family was in- but nothing compared to the heart gripping terror you experienced for the first time that day.
Of course, your family saved you just in time, though. Just like they always did.
Then you are set with a capital J
“Well, don’t you look fancy,” Arthur commented as you happily skipped into the kitchen.
You giggled a bit with a nod of your head, moving past where he and John sat at the table to grab and apple from the counter.
“What’s the occasion?” Your other brother piped up, glancing up from his own breakfast.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes teasingly at the two men, “I don’t need a reason to dress up,” You informed them, “I’m going to school! All the girls dress up now at school!”
John’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, and you’re doin’ what all the other girls are doin’ now?”
A hum left your lips as you floated over, placing a kiss on each of their cheeks before joyfully leaving the room.
Tommy entered just as you were leaving, receiving a large bear hug from you before you continued on your way, singing a song quietly to yourself.
“I don’ think I’ve ever seen anyone that happy to be goin’ to school.” The man commented.
“Tommy… I’ve just had an awful realization,” Arthur looked up at his brother with wide eyes, taking his little brothers raised eyebrow as a sign to continue, “I thinks n/n is growin’ up.”
“And what makes ya say that?”
“She’s goin’ to school all dressed up becuase it’s what all the other girls be doin’ now,” Arthur was talking with a horrified look on his face, “And I don’t like it, Tommy.”
The man rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, “She’s just dressing up a bit, Arthur, it’s not the end of the world. You can start worryin’ when she comes around talkin’ about boys, eh?”
“Boys?” Arthur paled even more, “I didn’ even think of that part.”
Which you'll never forget ‘til they cart you away
“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” John asked softly, worry painting his features as he immediately dropped onto the couch next to you.
You had your head in your hands and tears were falling down your cheeks when you looked up, startled by your older brother's presence. You hadn’t thought anyone was home.
“John,” You immediately moved to wipe your tears away, but he gently caught your wrists, halting your movements.
“What’s wrong?” He asked again, making sure he was looking you in the eyes as he spoke.
You sniffled slightly, shrugging harshly and trying to avert your gaze from his.
“Y/n,” He prompted, “I just wanna help ya.”
A sigh fell through your lips and you realized that it wouldn't hurt to just tell him, there was nothing he could do to change it anyway.
“A couple girls were making fun of me in school today.” You whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as you spoke, “I was called on for a question on the homework and I got it wrong.”
His eyebrows set in a furrow, “So they made fun of ya for it?”
You nodded tearfully, biting down on your lip and dropping your head in defeat.
“Hey, hey,” He cooed softly, gently taking your chin and moving it so you were looking at him again, “Wanna know what I want ya to do?” He didn’t wait for you to respond, “I want ya to go back to school tomorrow and show those girls exactly who they’re dealing with.”
It was then your turn to allow your eyebrows to dip in confusion, “Who?”
“You.” A smile tugged at his lips, “You’re a Peaky fuckin’ Blinder and nobody gets away with messing with one of them.”
You smiled now, tears having stopped springing from your eyes, “I’m a Peaky Blinder.” You repeated.
He grinned, reaching over ruffling your hair affectionately, “And don’ ya ever forget it.”
When you're a Jet, you stay a Jet
“Happy Birthday,” Tommy smiled one of his rare, real smiles with an even rarer twinkle in his eyes, “I hope ya like it.”
You were finally fourteen, and your whole family was gathered around the living room to celebrate, passing gifts upon gifts into your arms.
A gasp escaped from your lips as you opened the lid to the box and peered inside, “I-it,” You choked out, “It’s wonderful.”
You gently placed it to the side and sprang forward, throwing your arms around your brother's neck and bringing him in for a tight hug.
“All right, all right,” He said playfully, “Try it on now.”
Carefully, with the rest of your family gazing at you in wonder, you took out your very own Shelby family, Peaky Blinders cap.
Something that looked much like a distant memory flashed over Arthur and John’s faces instantly the second you placed it upon your head.
“Do ya remember when-“ John began, and Arthur nodded.
“When what?” You echoed in curiosity, looking at a nearby mirror and adjusting your new present.
“When the last time you wore one of those, it was too damn big for your own head,” Arthur laughed loudly at the memory.
Tommy chuckled fondly, “I remember.”
You looked over your shoulder and gave them wide grins, causing their hearts to squeeze tightly at the deja vu they were getting from seeing you like that.
When you're a Jet you’re the top cat in town
“M-Miss. Shelby,” A store owner stuttered out as soon as you opened the door to his bakery.
“Morning, sir.” You greeted kindly, having learned a long time ago not to take his fear to heart. No matter how nice you tried to be to people, no one was able to see past your family name. And oftentimes, you wouldn’t even complain.
“I- I have some freshly baked cakes!” His eyes widened at his own realization before quickly scrambling into the back and coming back less than a moment later with the treats in hand.
You shot him a smile, picking them up after he slid them along to counter towards you before reaching for your pocket for some money.
“Oh, oh no, Miss. Shelby.” He shook his head, “It’s on the house.”
A frown pulled on your lips, “But, sir-“
“It’s the least I could do,” He insisted, “Please, just take it.”
Hesitantly, you nodded before thanking him and making your way out of the store. Of course, this wasn’t even the first time something like this had happened to you or any other one of your siblings.
While you found it slightly worrisome, Finn found it downright hilarious.
You're the gold-medal kid, with the heavyweight crown
“Hey, oi, Johnny boy,” Arthur whispered, making the man look up from the newspaper in his lap, eyes following to where his older brother had inclined his head.
He felt a smile slowly grow on his face when he realized what he was looking at.
You were cuddled up between some pillows under a blanket on the couch nearby to them with an open book in your lap and your head dropped lazily to the side, having fallen asleep while reading.
“Should I wake her?” Finn asked mischievously from his seat beside John, who reached up and gave the boy a good whack on the back of the head, “I was only jokin’.” He grumbled.
“Let ‘er sleep,” Arthur said quietly, “Besides, she looks so peaceful right now.”
When you're a Jet, you’re the swingin'est thing
“I will push you in, Finn Shelby, don’t test me,” You warned as the two of you walked side by side on a bridge that hung a couple feet above the river.
The boy snickered, playfully shoving his shoulder against yours, “I’d like to see you try.”
A wicked glint settled in your eye, but it was gone before Finn could have been able to see it.
Deciding to wait until he let his guard down again, you allowed a few moments to pass in silence as you walked side by side, pretending to study the water.
Then, without giving him so much as a slight warning, you used all your force and sent him flying into the water down below.
You were holding onto your stomach and doubling over while cackling by the time he resurfaced, jaw dropped and a look of betrayal on his face, “Look whatcha did!” He complained.
“Oops,” You giggled before making your way over to the edge and sticking out your hand to help you up, feeling only a little bit bad about what you did.
He swam over to you and took your outstretched hand, but instead of using it to pull himself out like you thought he would, he yanked down on it hard, sending you toppling right after him into the freezing water.
You gasped as soon as you resurfaced, and he was now the one laughing at the look on your face, “That’s what you get!” He cheered.
Glaring at him slightly, you hit your hands against the surface, sending a big wave straight into his face.
He sat there, frozen for a moment, before slowly turning to face you fully and splashing you right back in the face.
Little boy, you're a man, little man, you're a king
You couldn’t help the wide smile that grew on your face as soon as you sat down at the table. All around you, your brothers and aunt chatted loudly amongst themselves whilst enjoying the first dinner you had all together in a couple of months.
“What’s got ya smilin’ over there?” Tommy asked from beside you.
“Just really happy that we’re all together right now,” You replied without so much as allowing your smile to falter.
His lips twitched upwards, “Yeah, me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
Summary: Y/n has called John for a small favor…the removal of a dead body from Alfie’s kitchen. Who was the dead man and why was he there in the first place? That might be the biggest surprise of all.
Author’s note: Requested by @darklydeliciousdesires who wanted to know what this duo would do if tasked with disposing of a body. Ty for the wonderful inspo! Also, Rose is an OC belonging to @justrainandcoffee. She is Alfie's wife and an advocate for women. Quick reminder that Y/n is Alfie's sister.
Warnings: language, mention of a dead body and murder, weapons, blood
You sat watching steam rise from a piping hot cup of tea as John paced before you. “I don’t understand,” he said, twisting his cap in his hands.
“What?” you mumbled as you shoved a biscuit into your mouth.
“How did you manage it?” he asked with a note of genuine surprise, though he should have learned by now not to underestimate you.
You only shrugged as he gestured toward the hulking man splayed out before him on Alfie’s kitchen floor.
“Used me knife," you explained in a flat tone.
“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed with a low whistle. John stood over the mangled corpse stroking his chin thoughtfully before gazing back at you with pride. “Carved him up like a Christmas turkey!”
“Serves him right, filthy wanker,” you spat, wiping the crumbs from your lip with a shaky hand.
"Hey, you alright?" John softened momentarily, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.
You narrowed your eyes at him, hating the look of pity you found staring back at you. "You seen the state of him? And you see me?" you gestured toward yourself with a flourish, demanding he acknowledge your victory. When he took a moment too long, you shoved him away. "Course I'm alright," you insisted stubbornly as you settled back into your chair, crossing your arms over your chest.
John let out a long sigh, wishing he'd never asked. Then recalling the trail of overturned furniture and broken glass leading to the kitchen, he changed the subject. "Was he looking for somethin'?" Opening and closing the cupboards as though he might find an answer hidden in the shelves, he called out, "Does Alfie still have that faberge egg?"
“Fuck no!" you vehemently denied. "Sold it ages ago to that toff who wanted it for his dog-faced cunt of a wife. Reckon she eats kibble out of it now or whatever the fuck rich people do."
John snorted out a laugh as he ran a hand down his face. How you could crack a joke at a time like this was beyond all comprehension. Turning back to his search, he opened another door, peering inside with intense scrutiny.
“Dunno what you're expecting to find," you muttered, irritation rising in your throat as you surveyed the room. "Not a sausage...."
John scratched his head as he glanced over his shoulder, “Is that a kosher thing?”
You rolled your eyes before clarifying, “Sausage and mash,” rubbing your thumb against your fingertips. When John still looked at you with a quizzical stare you shouted, “Cash, you daft cunt! If you think Alfie's stupid enough to hide anything of value here, you're a few sandwiches short of a picnic, mate."
He nodded in understanding. “Right, well….don’t matter why that fucker wanted in, we have to get him out.” He stood facing the man in question, removing a toothpick from his pocket and seesawing it between his teeth as he thought.
You quickly grew impatient, eyes darting wildly from the clock on the wall to John’s motionless form. “What are you waiting for? This is your speciality, ain’t it?” you asked in a high squeaky voice, anxious to move things along.
John spun around to face you, “And you’re such a big help sat there like a pudding!” he exclaimed taking a large step to swipe at you before slipping in a pool of the man’s blood.
You raced from the table to catch him, but he was already propelled halfway across the room, finally tumbling over and landing atop the dead man’s barrel chest. “ALLEY CAT!” he roared, face to face with the man’s hideous pallor of death.
Barely containing your laughter, you watched your partner in crime grimace before turning away to suppress a gag. “Smells like cheap whisky and piss,” he proclaimed.
“What do you reckon he smelt like? Bloody roses?” you asked, hoisting him up by the elbow.
John emitted a low growl before brushing himself off. Removing his jacket and tossing it aside, he crossed his arms, mouth twitching anxiously. “Can we get on with it?” he asked with a sigh that sounded like resignation to his fate. “You take one end, I’ll take the other,” he instructed with a nod of his chin.
John began wedging his arms beneath the man's upper body as you took hold of the thick legs which felt like two tree trunks. Hoisting the weight off the floor took a few moments and the body swung precariously between you, grunts and groans passed between you as you struggled to find equilibrium. Eventually you were able to take a few teetering steps backward and out of the kitchen doorway into the hall, but then you realized you didn't know where you were going after that.
“Wait! What’s the plan?” you demanded, knitting your eyebrows in confusion.
John snapped his head toward you, “Are you serious?"
"Well, we can't walk out of the house with him. People will notice," you pointed out.
"Just...keep...going," he instructed through clenched teeth. When you slowed your movements again he warned sternly, "If we stop now, you're going to break my fucking back."
"No...no, I don't like this, Barney," you said, shaking your head.
"You going to fight me the whole way?" he asked, nostrils beginning to flare in frustration.
“Do you want my help or not?” you huffed, dropping the pair of legs you were barely holding to begin with and placing your hands on your hips.
Dropping his half with a thud John laughed mirthlessly. He pointed at you, cheeks rosy with exertion and the tips of his ears beginning to match as his temper ignited. “You asked me to come, you ungrateful horse’s arse!”
"What did you call me?" you asked, rushing him and pinning him to the nearest wall, hand poised over your switch blade.
Just then someone cleared their throat and you both jumped, startled by the noise.
You broke away from John, looking up at a dark haired woman who stood above you in a halo of golden morning light. Her amber eyes were warm and held nothing but concern as she searched your face in wordless communication.
John frowned at you, his eyes darting between you as he wondered aloud, "Who the fuck is she?"
Ignoring him completely, you looked up at her unable to contain the burden of your guilt. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you admitted softly to her, "I didn't want you to see this."
"Is she one of Rose's women or..." he trailed off, watching her descend the stairs slowly and walk into your waiting embrace, placing a tender kiss to your trembling lips. "Do you two know each other?" he asked thickly. "Please, Y/n, I'm so confused," he pleaded.
When you parted, you were still holding her hand tightly in yours. "John, this is Eliana Armstrong."
"And him?" John asked cautiously, pointing at the body. "You know him, don't you?"
You nodded slowly, but Eliana spoke up. "His name is Harold Armstrong,” she said sadly, holding up her left hand to reveal a small gold band on her ring finger.
John's shoulders hunched and his brow creased as he thought.
"Give him a minute," you whispered next to her ear. "Got a nice boat, that one, but he ain't the brightest."
"Oi! M not deaf!” John scowled at you. Then turning to Eliana, he puffed out his chest, ready to defend you. "You had her kill your husband?" he hissed the accusation as he closed the distance in a few long strides. "You had no right to ask that of her!" he shouted, pointing a finger in her direction.
Quickly stepping between them, you placed a hand to his chest to halt his movements. "You've got it wrong," you stated simply.
"He was going to kill Y/n..." Eliana began before you hushed her.
"She told him she was leaving to be with me. He thought he could stop her by..." You stopped to inhale a sharp breath, thinking of the perilous fight you barely survived hours earlier. "Well...you know," you swallowed harshly, not wanting to give details. "I called you cos I knew you'd be there for me no matter what," you explained quietly. John's hands dropped to his sides, fists unclenching as all tension left his body with the shock of what he'd just heard.
"Oh, my God," he said, lowering himself by the banister to sit on the bottom stair. He knew something was off when you opened the door for him, possibly before that, when he heard a slight quiver in your voice on the telephone as you gave the code word for emergencies. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of you reaching out to him before anyone else, speechless at your show of trust.
After a few minutes of deafening silence you needed to know if John was upset for being asked to clean up your mess. "Will you please say something?" you prodded gently.
John raised his head from where it hung cradled between his large hands, his bright blue eyes observing the body lying before him in Alfie's demolished house. His curious gaze finally resting upon your exhausted and disheveled form, he managed, "Is this why we never shagged?"
"I'm Not Juliet, I Don't Have to Stab Myself"-John Shelby x Reader
Pairing: John Shelby x Reader
Warnings: fighting, yelling, cheating, hitting-one slap
Word Count: 240
Prompt Inspiration
Summary: Reader has had enough of John's bullshit.
Thank you @evita-shelby for giving me free choice with your drabble play. It was fun to write and I hope you like it.
“You see, John, that isn’t what I am saying,” she said, an open suitcase sprawled on the bed. She piled in the things she cared about as her mother was on route to pick her up. It was the last bloody fucking time he was going to make an ass of her.
He came up on her, trying to crane his head so she could look at him, but she kept moving around the room. John had to keep up. “And what are you saying?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even.
She threw a jumper into the suitcase and looked at him, jaw tight. “John, you are so thick in the fuckin’ head, you know that?” She pushed by him, grabbing some of her cosmetics from the top of the dresser. On the way, she paused at him. “I’m saying you Shelby boys think you can treat women however you want, but I am not the Juliet to your Romeo-”
“I told you,” he said, lowering his face to look at her, grabbing her chin. “Stop speaking in stupid riddles.”
Her hand collided with his cheek, and John stumbled back. “I’m saying I don’t have to put up with your shit. This is a sinking fucking ship and I don’t have to stay on it. Juliet can stab herself, but I don’t fucking have to. In fact, I can leave this home and never think of you again.”
arthur teaching tommy’s s/o to throw a punch would include...
a/n: this wasn’t really requested, but I was inspired by a comment from this story. while I probably could have actually written a story for this, headcannons were a lot easier for me to write for whatever reason. also, I had no idea how to punch someone and I was basing this on an article I found, lol. anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a fabulous day!
oOoOo
Okay, so in this scenario, you and Tommy would be dating before the Shelby boys go off to war, but you didn’t grow up with them.
Instead, you moved to Small Heath with your family when you were 17/18, and you and Tommy would have gotten together a few years after that.
For the most part, you got along well with Tommy’s family, even Aunt Polly. The Shelby’s enjoyed having you over, and you enjoyed developing a friendship with Ada thanks to your relationship with Tommy.
The only member of the Shelby household that you had somewhat of an awkward relationship with was Arthur.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, but the two of you never spent a lot of time together and therefore never really knew how to interact with one another.
One cloudy day, you made your way over to Watery Lane to meet up with Tommy, and Arthur was the one to answer the door. He informed you that Tommy had gone out to run a quick errand and would be back soon.
“Oh.” you said simply and decided you would just wait outside for your boyfriend to return.
Arthur watched you take a seat on their front stoop than glanced up at the sky. “Aw, hell, y/n. We both know it’s gonna start raining, why don’t you just wait inside?” he offered.
Are You Laughing at My Brother? | Shelby Brothers x Sister!Reader
Summary : Y/N is just a year younger than John Shelby, though her immense instinct to protect her older brothers against their enemies reveals that the Shelby name is not to be trifled with.
Warnings : cussing, misogyny, death threats, guns, descriptions of violence, racism
Additional Information :
> takes place in early season 1 ; Billy Kimber era (minor spoilers)
> written in third person perspective (she/her)
> 847 words | 6 minutes
Author's Note :
decided to use some gifs along the way, might be distracting for your reading - I apologise. My first work on here, please let me know how you find it! Enjoy <3
"Are you laughing, at my brother?" She speaks, appearing from behind the bar. For the first time since they've dared to enter the Garrison, Billy Kimber and his two men flinched slightly at her sternness. This only lasted a split second. Still, it didn't go unnoticed.
Billy Kimber flashes a cocksure smirk, pleased at the presence of something less dreadful than matter at hand. "And what do we have here,"
John lets out a humourless laugh. "I'd be careful with that one. She's feisty," He warns Billy Kimber with an all-knowing look.
Billy Kimber rakes his eyes over her physique. "This is no place for a whore - even a pretty one at that," He tuts mockingly, shaking his head.
Arthur inhales deeply as he fights the very last nerve to not cut the cheeky bastard across the face - to not slice his eyes for looking at his dearest little sister. The word 'whore' bounces around in his head. Arthur's lips twitch, knuckles turning white as he grips onto the arm rest for restraint.
He was waiting for a signal - a sound or nod of approval from Tommy or Her. Hell, he thinks, even John could command it and he would bloody do it. No questions asked.
Nonetheless, She makes her presence known. Almost like clockwork - one of the Shelby brothers stand and holds out his chair. In this moment, it was John. He extends his hand and escorts her to his previously occupied seat with care. Recklessly, he drags a chair for himself from a nearby table beside them, and plops down.
Billy Kimber clears his throat wearily but still as arrogant as before. "Right, he's the oldest, you're the thickest. I'm told the boss is called tommy so it can't be this woman you lot here seem to worship. Then I'm guessing that's you, cause you're looking at me up and down like I'm a fucking tart, " He spits out.
Thomas finally unclenches his jaw, the throbbing pain creeping onto him. He puts on a calm façade. Unmoving, he looks to Her direction.
Only when he saw She hadn't intervene, he spoke. "I want to know what you want. And which one am I talking to, which one of you is the boss?" Thomas breathes out as he takes a puff from a cigarette. His finger darting around from Billy Kimber to the two men that accompanied him.
Billy Kimber shoots up from his seat, knocking it to the ground. "I'm the fucking boss, alright!? Enough parley, you fixed the race without my permission. You fucking Gypsy scum. I run the races. You fixed one of 'em, so I'm going to have you shot against the post!" He declares - finger pointing threateningly to Thomas.
"Pick it up," She leans forward onto the table, hands intertwined infront of her.
Billy Kimber looks at her flabbergasted, "What?" He furrows his eyebrows, offended.
She stands slowly, the men around her straightening their backs in alert at her movement. She stares at him, unfriendly.
"I said," She continues, leaning forward once more, arms stretched out on the sides of the table, dominating the space at the table. "Pick. my chair. up," She repeats.
Billy Kimber remains stunned, seemingly not knowing what to do. The audacity of such a woman to demand him to pick up a chair? He was shocked to say the least, and outrageously insulted.
Ready to argue and humiliate her, Billy Kimber opens his mouth but She was quicker.
"You swayed your arse in here like you own the place. Guns out like you're flaunting fuck knows what," She speaks fluently, rage settling in. "We fixed your race, you put a bullet in my ceiling. That's fair, but then you had to run that fucking mouthpiece of yours didn't ya eh?"
"Want to put a bullet in my brother's head, is that it?" Like a predator, She stalks closer to him.
As She approaches, one of Billy Kimber's men crouched down and picked up the fallen chair. Just as the chair was upright, She gathered her strength and slammed Kimber's shoulders down onto the seat and held him still.
"Why don't we put one in yours?" She whispers into his ear, patting harshly on his right shoulder.
In an instant, Kimber's two men draw their guns.
The Shelby brothers lurch forward, in efforts to protect their sister infront of them, moving to draw their own guns as well.
However, the men who were supposedly loyal to Billy Kimber pointed their guns at the man himself. A sinister smile creeps onto Her face.
"Let's do proper business, shall we Mister Kimber? Starting off with your races, " She declares, moving to lower the guns that have been drawn by her brothers and the two men working for Her.
She turns abruptly to face Kimber. "Though, they wouldn't be your races any longer after we're done here, would they? " Her face suggestive of diplomacy, but voice laced with threat.
Hiii K, congrats on your 3.5k! That’s such an amazing milestone 🥳🤩 I’d like to send in the following prompt for John. 17. “How do babies get made.” I felt like this would go very well with John 🤭 Can’t wait to see with what you’ll come up with!
Hi Daisy @peakyltd !! Thanks so much for sending this in!! I was hoping that someone would choose John for this prompt because you’re sooo right - it fits him perfectly!!! I hope you like what I did with this! Also a special thanks to @raincoffeeandfandoms for letting me use the ‘little chimney man’ who brings babies…you’ve helped (Y/N) immensely here! Enjoy! :)
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
Part of my 3.5k celebration — find more stories here!
That’s Not What Dad Said
John Shelby x Reader
Warnings: awkward talk about babies being born, a playful smack with a newspaper
Word Count: 677
Summary: (Y/N) gets a surprise when she and John’s oldest child asks a rather interesting question out of the blue.
The question that six year old James Shelby asked just about made (Y/N) spit the tea she was drinking right back into its cup. “Can you repeat that again, dear?” she prompted the child, silently hoping that she didn’t hear him correctly.
“How do babies get made?” the boy repeated his question. It was the exact question (Y/N) had heard. Word for word.
“Umm, well…” she trailed off, taking a few moments to try and think of how she’d tackle this. The boy was six…he didn’t need to know about the actual process that occurred. “So when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, they have a talk, and in that talk, they decide that they want to have a baby. Then, there’s a man who comes down the chimney after hearing the talk and puts the baby in the mummy’s tummy. In nine months, the baby is born, and that’s how babies are made,” she finished her extravagent story with the exhale of a breath and an unsteady smile, hoping that it worked.
James looked at his mother, not saying anything for a few moments. “That’s not what dad said,” was what he finally said in response.
His statement immediately confused (Y/N). “Wha—what do you mean?” she rushed to ask, her eyes shifting between her son and her husband, who was still reading the newspaper and drinking tea; completely unbothered.
“Dad and uncle Arthur were talking yesterday and uncle Arthur was telling him about a lady he was with and I asked dad what he meant and he said that it’s how babies get ma…”
“Alright, I’ve heard enough. Why don’t you go and get ready for school, hmm?” (Y/N) cut the boy off, already having an idea of where the rest of his statement was going. Her insides were doing flips just thinking about her husband and his brother talking about stuff like that in James’ presence.
“Ok,” James nodded, hopping off of the chair without a second thought. (Y/N) was thankful he didn’t question it and did what she asked. He ran off then, leaving (Y/N) and John alone in the kitchen.
(Y/N) looked over at John, seeing him glance over at her while holding the cup up to his lips. He tried to be nonchalant and revert his eyes to the newspaper, but (Y/N) caught his gaze. “Would you like to tell me why you and Arthur were talking about those types of things with your boy in the room?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.
“We didn’t think he was listenin’ to us,” John tried to defend himself, setting the cup down so that he could look at her.
“He’s six, John. He listens to everything…and then he only remembers the things he isn’t supposed to,” she countered, her frustration shining through her words.
“It was a mistake, love. It won’t happen again,” he assured her, surrendering the argument because it was one he knew he couldn’t win.
“It better not,” (Y/N) emphasized, standing up from her chair to collect the empty dishes from the table. She walked them over to the sink, sitting them in it so that she could do the washing. Before getting to it, she walked back to where John was sitting with the newspaper in his hands. “Let me see that,” she said to him as she stopped at his side, motioning to the paper he was holding.
“Here,” he said, handing the paper over without second thought.
(Y/N) didn’t waste any time. She rolled the paper up and used it to lightly smack John on the back of the head, the sound of the whack from it filling the room.
“Oww!” he exclaimed, turning to look at her with wide eyes as he rubbed the back of his head.
A grin spread across (Y/N)’s face as she locked eyes with her husband. “I meant what I said,” she said then, seriousness present in her voice.
Pre Traumatic Stress Disorder - Finn Shelby x Reader
Finn Shelby x Reader
Finn’s seen his brother’s wives comfort them when they have PTSD, can’t he tell a little white lie and get the same treatment?
Finn stood in the doorway to your bedroom, pondering his current decisions. He’d seen his brothers do this with their wives and partners, perhaps he could try with you. They’d go to their other halves, trembling and drenched in sweat; crying as they plead for comfort as night terrors of the war had haunted them iteratively.
You were all currently staying in Shelby Manor, the home playing homage for a hotel while a close family friend’s wedding took place the day prior. Since working at the Garrison you’d become a close friend of the Peaky Blinder’s and quite the eye-catcher of a particularly young Shelby. So Tommy didn’t think twice before inviting you and Harry along - after all, you’d be family once Finn grew some balls and actually asked you out.
“Finn?” Shit, too late to back out now. He took a deep breath before putting his acting skills to the test. “Are you okay, it’s-” he saw your shadowed figure move to look at your small wrist watch on the bedside table “two in the morning.” You spoke, groggily. Just do it. He sniffed, thinking of his mother to try to build tears in his eyes.
You noticed his ‘upset’ and sat up quickly, the confused look in your eyes softening to concern. Finn wiped the wetness under his eyes with shaky hands. “Finn, what’s wrong?” You ask, voice laced with worry. He opened his mouth, bottom lip quivering. “I-it’s stupid.” He whispered between forced breaths. “It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you, please tell me what happened” you encourage.
He steps away from the doorway and into the room slightly, comforting himself by rubbing his right arm with his left. “Well,” he stuttered “well I had this dream, right?” You nodded “and usually it doesn’t bother me, all the violence and nightmares” he looked to his feet “but; but you were shot and I couldn’t help you. And I can still hear them firing.” He breathed out, forcing floods of tears from his eye ducts - an applause worthy performance.
Your body language relaxed as a sympathetic expression appeared on your face. “Oh Finn,” you untucked yourself and stepped out of bed, Finn’s cheeks hot seeing you in a simple night gown. You walk over to him and take his face in your hands, looking him over.
Come on. Say it. Say it. Say it. He begged internally.
“Come on, come get in with me” you say, rubbing his back comfortingly. “Really?” He asks, trying not to sound as hopeful as he is. You nod confidently in response, shutting the door and leading him towards the bed. YES. You both lay in silence for a moment, before he sniffs loudly: still not fully happy with the response. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for waking you up with something so ridiculous. You were just laying there-” you hushed him and sat up, pulling him to lay on your chest.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay” you comfort, running your hands through his hair gently. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not hurt.” Finn looks up at you, to which you wipe his tears away with a soft thumb. “I just care so much about you, I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t protect you.” He admitted, mentally hoping you’d do what the others do to their husbands. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy.” You coo, a small smile on your face, leaning down to kiss his forehead tenderly before going back to play with his hair.
“Tell you what, you stay here with me tonight. Then I know you’re okay and you know I’m safe. How’s that sound?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. He grins between drying tears. “Thank you, you’re angel.” He whispers, moving up to touch your cheek to check you were real, that this wasn’t his dream. You lean into his touch and close your eyes for a moment.
“Can I hold you?” He asks, pushing the boundary as far as he could stretch it. You nod, tired. He pulls himself up and holds you like you were leaving him, like someone would take you away from him, you leaned up to kiss his jaw before settling down for the rest of the night. Maybe he should go into acting.
The next morning, Finn was eating breakfast, looking out the window and into the vast countryside. His brother Arthur walked over with a cup of coffee, but it smelled like he’d added a hint of whiskey. He clapped his brother on the back. “Alright, Finn?” The boy hummed in response. “No PTSD I hope.” The boy side eyed the older man. “Oh the bombs, oh the guns” he fawned and Finn elbowed him; mannerisms changing when you walked into the room to ask how he was feeling this morning.
soft john shelby/ protective? like someone is rude to her and he defends her headcanons??
John Shelby being protective💕💪
A/N: really hope you enjoy reading, made them extra long ❤️🤞 i love writing for the Peaky Blinders boys (especially the dialogue 🤞😅). Very sorry it took so long, but i think i'm incapable of writing short stuff...
Peaky Blinders Masterlist Masterlist
♡when a man mutters something filthy about you under his breath, John doesn’t ask who said it - he already knows. His head tilts just slightly, that slow, murderous Shelby turn, and he walks toward the man with the calmness of someone choosing which bone to break first. “You got a death wish speakin’ about my girl like that?” he asks, voice low and threathening. Then he slides an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side like you’re the one who needs comforting. “Come on, love. Let’s get you home. Some men talk big 'cause it’s the only thing they’ve got"
♡you mention, in passing, that a certain butcher always stands a little too close. John goes quiet in that way that means trouble. Next morning he’s at the shop before the windows even steam up, leaning on the counter like he’s just there for sausages. “Listen,” he says softly, “you keep your eyes and your hands to yourself. She says you made her uneasy once. Once. There won’t be a second.” The butcher nods until his neck cracks. John comes home whistling, dropping a paper bag on the table. “Got us something,” he says, kissing your hair. “And someone learned some manners"
♡when a man shoulder-checks you in the street and doesn’t look back, John’s hand shoots out before you even process what happened. He spins the man around with one rough push and says, “you blind, mate? Or just stupid?” The man stutters out an apology, eyes flicking to the razor-sharp anger barely held in John’s jaw. John only steps away when he’s satisfied you’ve been properly apologized to. Then he cups your cheek with a hand still warm from the confrontation. “Tell me if he touched you wrong. I’ll deal with him proper"
♡when you and John argue, it’s never gentle. He storms out, fists clenched, like he’s fighting ghosts only he can see. But he always returns - hair mussed, breathing uneven - like something in him can’t survive too long without you. “I can take on the whole bloody world,” he says, voice shaking with more fear than anger, “but I can’t take losin’ you.” Then he pulls you against him, burying his face in your neck as if inhaling you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Don’t walk away from me, love. Not you"
♡when some fool says you’re “too sweet for a Shelby,” John stops dead in his tracks. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just turns, slow as a rising storm. “Aye,” he says, stepping in close enough that the man swallows hard, “she’s sweet. To me.” His voice hardens. “But don’t mistake kindness for weakness. She’s stronger than you’ll ever be.” Then he takes your hand, threading your fingers through his like sealing a promise. “Ignore him, sweetheart. You’re exactly what I never thought I’d deserve"
♡when you fall asleep on the sofa waiting for him to come home, John freezes in the doorway like he’s looking at something sacred. He kneels beside you, brushing hair from your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Should’ve been home earlier,” he mutters, angry at himself, never at you. He lifts you into his arms carefully - like you’re made of something finer than the whole bloody world - and as he carries you to bed, he murmurs, “no one should leave you waitin’, love. Not even me"
♡you get a small cut on your hand while cooking, nothing dramatic, but John reacts like you’ve been stabbed. He takes your wrist gently, too gently for a man who throws punches for a living, and mutters, “christ, love, look at you bleedin’.” He cleans it himself, brow furrowed, jaw tight, like the world personally offended him by hurting you. When you laugh and say it’s nothing, he kisses the bandage and murmurs, “don’t care. If it touches you, I touch it back twice as hard"
♡at the Garrison, some drunk stumbles too close, nearly spilling his pint on you. John doesn’t even look at the man first - he looks at you, checking your dress, your face, your hands, making sure you’re untouched. Only then does he shove the bastard back by the chest with one sharp push. “Watch yourself,” he says calmly, which is somehow more frightening than shouting. Then he turns to you with an expression only you ever see - worried, tender. “You alright, sweetheart? Didn’t spill anythin’ on you, did he?”
♡when someone flirts with you - harmless or not - John’s whole body tenses. He doesn’t drag you away or start a fight. No, he simply steps behind you, hands resting heavy on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles that say mine without a single word. And when the man takes one look at John and decides he values his life, John leans down, lips brushing your ear as he says, “didn’t like the way he was starin’ at you.” You smile and tell him, “I only look at you.” His whole body softens
♡when nightmares hit you, the ones you don’t dare admit scare you, John wakes instantly. No matter how deep he was sleeping, he’s upright in a second, hand on your waist, voice low and steady. “Hey. I’m here. Look at me.” He pulls you onto his chest, one hand sliding into your hair, grounding you. “Whatever it was, it can’t touch you. Not while I’m breathin’.” He stays awake long after you fall back asleep, just watching the rise and fall of your breath like it’s the only thing that keeps him tethered
♡you tell John you’re going into town alone and he tries - really tries - to be reasonable about it. But halfway through your sentence he’s already shaking his head. “No. I’ll come.” You argue that you don’t need a bodyguard. He smirks, steps closer, and murmurs, “I know you don’t. But I like walkin’ with you.” And he does; one hand in his pocket, the other hovering near your back, like he’s ready to kill a man for breathing wrong in your direction
♡on cold mornings, before you wake, John lights the fireplace and puts your slippers near it so they’re warm when you slip them on. He’ll deny it, of course - “must’ve been the kids”- but the way he watches you wiggle your toes with that tiny, secret smile gives him away. Protecting you, to him, isn’t always brawls in alleys. Sometimes it’s making sure your world is softer than the one he grew up in
♡when someone in the betting shop talks down to you, John doesn’t raise his voice. He just leans on the counter, rings catching the light, smile sharp as a blade. “Careful how you speak to her,” he says, tone light, almost cheerful. “My temper’s worse than it looks.” The man scoffs until John steps closer, close enough he can smell gunpowder and whiskey. “Say it again,” John murmurs, eyes ice-cold now. The man apologizes instantly. John turns back to you like nothing happened, brushing a stray of hair behind your ear. “Let’s get out of here, love"
♡you don’t even see the man grab your arm - it’s crowded, loud, bodies pushing in every direction - but John does. His hand clamps around the stranger’s wrist before the man can blink, twisting hard enough that something pops. “Take your fuckin’ hands off her,” John says, voice low, steady, terrifying. The man yelps, stumbling back, and John steps between you like he was born for it. Then he turns to you, brushing your sleeve where the man touched you, jaw still clenched. “Tell me where it hurts, love.” When you say you’re fine, he exhales shakily. “Good. Let’s get out of here before I change my mind and break his other hand"
♡when you’re overwhelmed - people talking too fast, too loud, the Shelby chaos clawing at your nerves - John notices before you even say a word. He puts a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out quietly, no fuss, no questions. Outside, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders even if you insist you’re not cold. “Don’t care,” he says, standing close so his presence blocks out the world. “Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you”
♡at a family meeting, someone makes a joke at your expense - nothing vicious, but sharp enough that it lands. Before you can react, John slams his palm on the table, the sound cutting through the room like a shot. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he snaps, eyes blazing. “She’s with me. That means she’s off-limits.” The room goes silent except for Arthur muttering “bloody hell” under his breath. Then John sits back down beside you as if he didn’t just threaten a Shelby at full volume, draping his arm over the back of your chair. “Ignore ‘em, love. They forget themselves sometimes"
♡you’re walking together when some lad calls you a name - something crude, something meant to sting. John stops so abruptly you bump into his back. Before you can speak, his fist connects with the bloke’s jaw in one clean, practiced motion; the man drops like a stone. John shakes out his hand, breathing hard, eyes still burning with rage. “Shouldn’t’ve said that,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then he turns to you, thumb brushing your lip, voice softening like honey. “You alright? I didn’t scare you, did I?” You tell him you’re used to it. He gives a rough laugh. “Yeah, well… he won’t be"
♡one night you’re quiet - too quiet - and John notices instantly. He sits beside you, knee bumping yours, cigarette burning low between his fingers. “Who upset you?” he asks, not gently. When you insist it’s nothing, he angles your face toward him with two fingers under your chin. “Don’t lie to me, love.” You finally tell him someone said you weren’t good enough for him. John actually laughs - a sharp, disbelieving sound - before pulling you into his lap like it’s the most natural place in the world. “You’re the best thing I ever bloody touched,” he murmurs into your hair. “Anyone says otherwise, I’ll put ‘em in the ground”
♡at a dance hall, a man keeps staring - not subtle, not respectful, just hungry. John notices after the second glance. By the third, he’s already making his way across the room, smile lazy, hands in his pockets. “Enjoyin’ the view?” he asks the man. The tone is light, but his eyes promise violence. The man stammers something, but John steps closer, close enough the music drowns under the tension. “Look somewhere else,” he says. “Or you’ll be pickin’ your teeth off the floor.” When he returns to you, he places a hand on your lower back, guiding you away. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you.” You tell him you feel safe with him. His whole body softens, just for you
♡you’re waiting for John outside the Garrison when some guy starts pestering you, stepping too close, asking questions you don’t want to answer. Before you even think of a response, the man is yanked backward by the collar so violently his feet scrape the cobblestones. John’s standing behind him, expression eerily calm. “She say you could talk to her?” John asks. The man shakes his head, terrified. “Then walk away.” John shoves him off, then turns to you, brushing your hair behind your ear with fingers that are still trembling with anger. “Should’ve waited inside, love,” he mutters, pulling you against his chest. “Could’ve killed him for breathing in your direction"
♡there’s a day you’re meant to meet him at the Garrison, but you’re running a bit late. By the time you arrive, John’s pacing outside, jaw clenched so tight you worry for his teeth. When he sees you, relief flashes across his face first - then irritation, then relief again, fighting each other in his expression. He strides over, grabs your face in both hands, checking you over like you’ve come back from war. “You’re late,” he says, but it comes out more like you scared me. You apologize lightly. He exhales hard, forehead pressing to yours. “Just… let me know next time, yeah? I’m not losin’ you. Not to time, not to anyone, not to anything"
♡someone sends you a nasty note - anonymous, cruel, meant to rattle you. You try to throw it away before John sees, but he catches your wrist, eyes narrowing as he reads the words. His jaw locks so hard you think his teeth might crack. “Who wrote this?” he asks. You say you don’t know; he exhales, slow and dangerous. “Alright. I’ll find out.” And he does. That same night, he comes home with grazed knuckles and a satisfied look. He doesn’t brag, doesn’t explain. Just hands you a flower he nicked from somewhere and says, “no one’s gonna speak to you like that again"
♡at a party, a woman scoffs and says you’re “not really Shelby material.” Before you can respond, John steps behind you, hands resting firm on your hips. “Funny,” he says, voice deceptively light, “’cause she’s the only one I trust with my bloody life.” The woman rolls her eyes - a mistake. John leans forward, smile gone. “Say somethin’ like that again,” he murmurs, “and I’ll remind you why people cross the street when they see a Shelby comin’.” Then he guides you away, grip gentle now. “Ignore her, sweetheart. She’s jealous you’ve got what she never will"
♡you trip on a loose cobblestone and someone nearby laughs. It’s not even directed at you, but John hears it and turns instantly, face darkening. “Somethin’ funny?” he asks, stepping toward the man with the slow confidence of someone who’s ended plenty of fights before they started. The man mutters an apology, backing away quickly. John waits until he’s gone before he crouches beside you, checking your ankle, brushing dirt from your skirt with careful hands. “Tell me where it hurts,” he says softly. You say it was just a stumble. John presses a kiss to your knee anyway. “Still. He shouldn’t’ve laughed"
♡a man at the pub tries to squeeze past you and does it far too close, hand brushing where it shouldn’t. John sees red. He grabs the man by the front of his coat and slams him against the wall so hard the glasses behind the bar rattle. “Touch her again,” he growls, voice low and deadly, “and I’ll put you in the fuckin’ river.” The whole pub goes silent, watching, waiting. Then John lets the man go, turns to you, and his entire face softens like he’s made of something warm instead of violence. “Come here, love,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. “Not lettin’ anyone lay a hand on you. Ever"
♡you’re walking with John through the market when some cocky lad whistles at you - loud, crude, meant to get a rise. John stops mid-step, turns slowly, and looks at the boy like he’s inspecting a problem he’s about to solve with his fists. “You whistle at dogs,” John says calmly. “Not at my girl.” The lad tries to laugh it off until John steps forward, close enough he could count the boy’s heartbeats. “Try it again,” he murmurs, voice like a razor’s edge, “and I’ll break your jaw so you can’t whistle at anything ever again.” Then he takes your hand, tenderness blooming through all that fury. “Ignore him, sweetheart. Man like that’s never touched anything worth respect"
♡someone from another gang calls you “Shelby baggage” within John’s earshot. He doesn’t react at first - just tilts his head, cracks his knuckles, and smiles in that way that means someone’s going to the hospital. “Baggage?” he repeats, stepping forward. “You don’t got the right to say her name, let alone insult her.” The man tries to backpedal, but John’s already grabbed him by the front of his coat and slammed him against a brick wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. “You’re breathin’ today,” John says, voice level, “’cause she’s watchin’.” He drops the man and turns to you, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Let’s get you home, love. I’ve had enough idiots for one day”
♡a rival tries to intimidate you by mentioning your name during negotiations. John’s whole demeanor changes - the lazy grin gone, the easy stance replaced by something sharp and lethal. “You leave her out of this,” he says quietly. Too quietly. Even Tommy looks over. The rival keeps pushing, and John slams his fist onto the table with a force that makes everyone jump. “Last warnin’,” he growls. “Talk business with me. You don’t speak her name.” When the room finally goes silent, John leans back like nothing happened and slips his hand beneath the table to squeeze your knee. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’ll never touch you. Not while I’m breathin’”
♡you get caught in the rain on your way home, soaked and shivering by the time you reach the Shelby house. John answers the door and freezes when he sees you. “Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, instantly pulling you inside, stripping off your coat, pressing his hands to your cold cheeks. “Why didn’t you call for me?” You tell him it’s just rain. He shakes his head, wrapping you in his warm coat. “Doesn’t matter. You’re mine to look after.” Then he leads you to the fire, sits you on his lap, and holds you against his chest until you’re warm again. “Next time,” he whispers, lips against your temple, “I’m comin’ to get you"
♡you mention offhand that you don’t feel safe walking home alone at night sometimes - not because something happened, just a feeling. John goes quiet, a dangerous kind of quiet, the kind he gets right before doing something reckless but effective. The next day, without telling you, he installs new locks, fixes the broken gate latch, reinforces the back door, and has Arthur check the alley behind your house. Then he walks you through everything - how each lock works, how the lights turn on, where he keeps a revolver “just in case.” He tries to pretend it’s no big deal, but you catch the softness in his eyes when he says, “you say you feel unsafe once - once - and that’s enough for me. Not lettin’ you feel that again"
♡whenever he plans something dangerous, something bloody, something he’d rather you never knew about, he comes to you the night before - not to confess, but to hold you. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in like he’s memorizing you. “If anythin’ ever happens to me,” he whispers, voice raw, “Tommy’ll look after you. Arthur too. But no one’ll love you like I do.” You grab his shirt and tell him he’s coming back. He kisses you like it’s a promise he’ll carve into fate itself. “Aye,” he breathes, lips against yours, “I’m comin’ back to you. Always”
♡John never says it outright, but you can feel it in the way he watches you in quiet moments - when the house is calm, the kids asleep, the world not demanding anything from him. He sits beside you, shoulder pressing against yours, his fingers brushing yours like he’s memorizing every knuckle and line. “You changed everything for me,” he murmurs one night, voice low, honest in a way that feels rare and sacred. “Made me want somethin’ good. Somethin’ worth fightin’ for.” You tell him he already had something good in him. He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Not until you,” he says. Then he pulls you into him, hand warm on the back of your neck as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Long as I’m livin’, love… you’ll never face this world alone. Not with a Shelby by your side.” And for once, his voice isn’t angry, or fierce, or edged with danger - just full of a love so deep it settles into your bones
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summary - tommy will learn to listen to you one way or another.
pairing - shelby family x reader
warnings - none
notes - this is not supposed to be taken seriously but this was my dream and i have to get it out somehow
main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist
You walk into the open doorway of the snug, adjusting you purse and sitting in the empty seat obviously for saved for you. It was late, the Garrison was empty but not because of the time of night. The Shelby’s had cleared it out specifically for this meeting, as they do with every family meeting they have here.
Everyone was gathered around, sat at the table, even Ada. Which was rare considering she wanted nothing to do with things like this…must be important.
“Alright, you’ve finally got me here, Thomas. What is it you want?” You take a sip of the whiskey they had sat in front of you. “Make it quick, please, I have a life to get back to.”
It’s completely silent before someone finally speaks up, it’s John. You’ve always liked him, he had a certain charm when it came to…charming women. He was always respectful to you though, you had thought if things go south…he might be a second choice.
“Well uh…We found some…information on our new barmaid.”
“Oh really?”
This time Arthur speaks, “Yeah…Information.” He gently throws his hands up and sits back in his seat. You sit back in your own seat, purse sitting on your lap. You start to piece together what they are going to say, after all, you had warned the Shelby family way too many times. Polly scoffs, blowing smoke from her rouge lips.
“Oh for fucks sake—Grace was a spy. You were right all along.”
You freeze, hand still halfway to your almost empty glass. Your nervousness from the past silence was getting to you. After hearing what Polly said, the truth, you thought maybe there was a god. A god who hated Thomas Shelby just as much as you did and wanted to embarrass the hell out of him.
You burst out in laughter, loud and happily, right in the infamous Peaky Blinders leader’s face. His eyes were locked onto you, smoke leaving his nostrils and lips.
“Something funny, (Y/N)?” He questioned, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Only the most hilarious thing that could ever happen!” You continue to laugh in his face, no one else joining in, they wouldn’t want to face Tommy’s wrath after you left…if you did leave. “What did I tell you, Tom?!”
“How’s your plan working out for you? Ha!”
After a few more moments of your loud laughter, you calm down, pouring yourself another drink. “My god, I’ve never laughed that hard in a long time. Who knew it would be at your expense.”
“(Y/N), unfortunately I didn’t invite you here to laugh at my decisions.”
You take a sip of your second glass of the brown liquid, “Mhmm, what did you call me here for, Thomas?” You set the crystal glass down, noticing Tommy brought out his nicer ones…hmm. You adjust your top, no reason really just to make yourself look busy.
“I need you back, (Y/N).”
You laugh again, not as long and loud as the last one but just a chuckle, you almost choked on your drink when you heard him.
“Don’t want me anymore, but you need me.”
He goes to respond when you cut him off— “Thomas, sweet Thomas…No.”
He doesn’t look taken aback, as if he was expecting your answer. Which, in all fairness, he should’ve been. You and Tommy had something, something real and raw. Then, Ms. Grace Burgess came along, all sweet and soft…You tried warning him about your suspicions but Tommy threw you to the side once he got his eyes of her. So you did something that would hurt him right back, you left. You left on a random day, took some of his stash and left.
You knew you wouldn’t be gone for long, you knew what Grace was and you knew what Tommy would do to get you back once he’s had his fun. After a while though, you got comfortable in your new life, you were happy. A nice job, no dirty, bloody men around every corner. Even thought the Shelby family had their good moments, you weren’t sure if it was all worth it anymore.
“You’ve made your bed and now you’ll lie in it.”
You pick up your belongings and walk out, not caring to stop for Tommy calling your name. Who does he think he is? Wanting you to crawl back to him after he’s fucked another woman, after he’s betrayed you. The Garrison door slams shut from its weight, leaving the rooms filled with silence. “Isn’t that wonderful…” Polly brings her cigarette back to her lips, breathing in.
“…So what now, Tom?” John looks to his elder brother, still a little confused on what just happened.
“She’ll be back.”
Arthur speaks now, “Ha…Tommy, I don’t know if you heard her but, uhh no. She won’t.”
“She will. Go on, you all have things to do while we wait.”
Summary: You simply couldn’t understand why he’d jeopardise something he claimed to care about that much.
Warnings: Angst.
Words: 3735
A/N: Cliché as fuck but well, who doesn’t like having a fair amount of ficts with the same topic? Also, super unedited but it’s like 5AM so you know, fuck it.
“You are my girl.” Michael whispered in your ear as he hugged your waist, swaying with you rhythmically as the blues ringed in your ears.
You nodded lightly, hands on his back as you hung your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes as you waited for a heartbeat to skip, for the wave of affection to wash you over like it used to.
192 with Michael for the prompts? Love your writing btw, your really talented :D
Aw thank you so much!
From this prompt list
192: What did you just say? (implied nsfw)
It was a routine, rile each other up all night, get close to sneaking off, act as if nothing happened the next morning. The teasing and flirting never started off as a serious thing, the thought of what came after never occurring to either of you as it went on. It was just fun and games, something to pass the time. However, one night you couldn’t help but notice how he stood closer, touched you more, leaned in right next to your ear to whisper jokes about whoever was talking at the time letting his warm breath hit you without a thought. He wasn’t trying to hide much ether, you could feel his eyes on you when you bent over Tommy’s desk to point something out in the books, the innocence that this whole thing started with was quickly fading.
“That’ll be all, you can go,” Tommy said when you finally walked away, the room seemed to sigh in relief at the thought of getting out of there, the meeting had been long and everyone was ready for some drinks.
However, it seemed like some had other things on their mind. You felt hands on your waist, the familiar breath against your neck, and then barely over a whisper you heard, “I’m going to fuck you over his desk one day.” And then it all disappeared, the hands were gone, your neck was cold from the loss of heat, all gone as if it never happened.
“What did you just say?” He only smirked over his shoulder before disappearing with the rest of the boys. “Michael!”
“Y/n, come, I need to speak with you,” Polly said before you could go after him.
Dinner that night was different, you expected to find Ada when you heard someone take the seat next to you, but when you turned, Michael smiled back at you. “That’s not where you sit,” you stated, though he already knew that.
“No seating chart at a family dinner, love,” he said, “Ada’s back from America, let her catch up with her brothers.”
You couldn’t help but look over at where she now sat, between Arthur and Finn, laughing as she watched her younger brother attempt to persuade Karl into sitting next to him.
“See? Let her have her fun,” he whispered.
You’d attempted to ignore him during the meal, talking to Esme about life with the new baby, however, the sound of something clattering on the floor made you look back at him.
“Sorry, dropped my knife,” he mumbled letting everyone go back to their chatting, he bent down to retrieve it but what his fingers touched was definitely not his knife. You almost kicked him, not expecting the feel of his hand ghosting up your leg as he sat back up. His hand reached your knee though he made no attempt to move it away, when he was finally settled again, instead using his thumb to rub small circles there.
“Michael I will cut you,” you whispered, but he only smirked when you didn’t move his hand away. “Your entire family is here, do you really want to do this now?”
“Now? Yes. Here? Have to admit, I’m not to keen on it,” he admitted, “Excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.”
“What?”
He rolled his eyes and looked around the table, checking to see if anyone could hear him, “excuse yourself to go to the bathroom,” he repeated, “now.” His eyes were narrowed, a pointed look telling you that you weren’t going to the bathroom to powder your nose. Not feeling up to announcing it to the room, you mumbled a line to Esme before you stood and walked off.
You’d gotten halfway down the hall before you found yourself pressed against a wall, lips attacking your neck before you could even see his face.
“Fuck, Michael, what the hell’s gotten into you?” you asked, pressing your palms into his shoulders. He removed himself and took a step back, eyebrow raised.
“Just got tired of it,” he said, he pulled his case out of his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, “not going home with you after it all, always having to go home alone and try not to think about you when I go to bed.”
You couldn’t help but smile, the thought of Michael trying so hard at night to forget the teasing throughout the day painting a beautiful picture in your mind. Pushing off the wall, you took the still unlit smoke out his mouth and slid it back into his pocket.
“You could have thought about me,” you said, moving up to stand on your toes in front of him, “I thought about you.” Any other time you wouldn’t have admitted it, you’d been friends and just friends and pleasuring oneself to the thought of a friend was usually frowned upon, “my night gown pulled up to my stomach, hand between my legs, almost every night,” you whispered, finally pressing your lips to his. He didn’t pull away, didn’t move a muscle before you finally stepped back again.
“Shit,” was all he could say before taking your hand, “c’mon, can’t do this in a hallway,” he explained as he started pulling you.
“Where the hell are we going then?” He didn’t say anything as he led you through the house, far from any bedroom that could’ve done just fine. He finally stopped, though you did not like where. “We can’t go in there!”
“I told you I was going to fuck you over his desk one day, guess what today is?” He grinned as he leaned back on the door, letting it swing open revealing Thomas Shelby’s office.
“You’re going to get me fired and killed, do you want me dead?”
“After I fuck you over the desk, I don’t think I’ll really care what happens.”
Dessert wasn’t the only thing being served when you returned, everyone smirked at you as you went to retake your seat. You didn’t dare look up from the cake on your plate in an effort to hide the red you could feel rising up to your cheeks. A minute later Michael sat next next to you, earning whistles from his cousins.
“Tie’s crooked, mate,” John said making the room finally erupt in laughter.
“About bloody time you two, I was starting to think my son wasn’t gifted with that Shelby family trait, getting me worried for no reason.”
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