Stop upholding systems that are trying to oppress you! They might prop you up for a while and say âlook at this well behaved piece of garbage who is supporting usâ but the second itâs convenient theyâll kick you to the bottom with the rest.
You can fight as fiercely as you want for the system that is against you because you think it will buy you safety but it doesnât matter how well you protect them; they will not return the favour.
Licking someoneâs boot makes it easy for them to kick your teeth out.
Summary: The reader tries to save Hank Voight, but there are misunderstandings and regrets for all involved. Can things be healed?
A/N: Entry for day 4 of Whumptober 2022, 'Dead On Your Feet'. Based on a dream I had where I was the injured party in a waiting room, and the rest of the team was pissed off with me, including Jay who eventually came to check on me.
-
Itâs hard to understand how you got yourself in this situation in the first place, you seldom made such egregious errors that resulted in the wall of silence that you had been met with from the rest of the team. Even now, you were trying to recall whether you actually had made a decision worth their derision.
You were sat in the back of Jayâs truck, whilst Hailey rode shotgun next to him, they murmured among themselves - no doubt about the nightâs events, and whether you were directly responsible, even you had started to wonder how much you were remembering correctly. You decided it would be best to keep to yourself and let them cool off.
Your head rests against the window as the city lights pass you by, focused on the cool sensation of the glass on your forehead as the window judders against your skull. You were in a trance, replaying the point of breach over and over.Â
-
It had been quiet at first, moving in silence as you were trained to do, communicating via hand signals as per protocol. Then there had been a commotion from another end of the warehouse you were in, and you were certain Detective Arnold had relayed to you that there were assailants in his line of sight. In turn, you had told Voight to stay put, which had turned out to be a costly âerrorâ, the assailants had moved in from elsewhere and got to Hank before you could intervene.
Rushing forward with your gun aimed, you announced your office and demanded the offenders back up and away from Hank. It was hard to get a shot off when they were crowded around Hank still, instead you had to make the choice to engage in hand-to-hand combat.
You took several punches to the face, every flying fist and foot felt harder than the previous. You felt several sharp stings of something in your side, but between adrenaline and the rapid blur of pandemonium, you had no time to inspect what the stinging was. Mercifully your altercation distracted a few of the other offenders from Hank, giving the rest of Intelligence enough time to assist.
It was over in a matter of minutes, you then honed in on a wounded and barely conscious Voight. He was curled up on the ground in a protective position. Hank had taken two rounds to his shoulder and neck, receiving a beating that left him with traumatic injuries to his torso and leg.Â
It had been jarring to see him, a mentor of yours and someone who sometimes seemed invincible, so weak and almost beyond help. Hank had tried to speak but you had hushed him, with a trembling voice you had asked him to conserve his energy as you applied pressure to one of his wounds whilst Kim had pressed on another.Â
Now, as you sit slumped in Jayâs truck, blood soaking into his seat, it strikes you that you might never know what Voight was trying to say. You feel your stomach twist, and your heartbeat pounds relentlessly in your ears.
You had been ushered away from the scene in the warehouse by Jay and Hailey, they had told you to stay put on a concrete block that acted as a bench in the parking lot - you felt like an admonished child.
Nobody really asked if you were okay or what happened beyond the cliff notes of where you were when the group had jumped Hank. Vague memories of you trying to explain yourself flitter across your mind, your team had looked at you with a sense of betrayal, they couldnât believe youâd messed up that bad.
Without Voight being conscious to give his version of events, it was a simple âHe said, she saidâ situation, and again you didnât much feel like trying to argue your innocence with the team. The words had repeatedly died in your mouth, you couldnât speak when you knew Voight was most likely in emergency surgery fighting for his life - it seemed somewhat of a low priority, even if it meant you were being frozen out.
As you were sitting on the concrete block, you directed your watchful eye away from the crime scene and across the parking lot. There you met Detective Arnoldâs eyes; you stood and watched as he spoke to Adam, heart in your mouth as your friend glanced in your direction with a dismayed expression, one of blame.Â
You had blood all over your clothes, hands and wrists covered in Hankâs blood, the smell of flesh and rust was pungent, you had done everything you could to ensure your sergeantâs safety and yet. You somehow felt wrong trying to impress that point upon the team whilst the ambulance had barely loaded Hankâs struggling form on board.
Arnold was assigned from homicide to liaise with Intelligenceâs active pursuit of multiple offenders, they were suspected of a string of rip jobs that had managed to kill civilians in the process. Something hadnât been quite right with him throughout the investigation, but you hadnât been able to put your finger on it, not enough to raise questions about a senior officer. Nor had you been able to catch him in the midst of anything untoward.Â
However, in the cold air of night, with your team far away from you, it felt all too clear to you that Arnold had somehow set Intelligence up to fail.
Was he in on the rips? Was he covering for an informant? Did he just have it out for Hank? Hank having beef wasn't an uncommon occurrence, few led to an attempted murder though.Â
These were the questions that swirled in a discombobulating fog in your head, you would need to get back to the district soon and get serious about proving your theory.
20 minutes later after all hell had broken loose, and with one of Jayâs cold stares, you were given a flat-toned instruction to âget in the truckâ. You did as you were told, all rebuttals of wrongdoing long since dead on your lips. There would be time for that clarification later.Â
Nobody looked twice at you as they got in their cars, and nobody even stopped to check whether the blood sticking to you was all of Hankâs or whether it was some of yours, your face was bruised and swollen but it came second to all that had passed. You could understand that, your self-doubt and guilt had begun to fester, you decided to draw no attention to your injury, and you didnât begrudge your teamâs lack of concern anymore.Â
You thought of the hellfire that would rain down on you should Hank not make it, which only served to make you curl in a little tighter on yourself in the back of Jayâs truck. You bit back a moan as you felt the sharp, hot, waves of pain in your lower back, the sensation burned like acid and you wanted to cry - with the adrenaline gone, you realised you had been stabbed earlier.
You take careful and quiet breaths as you hold yourself together - the longer time passed, the more awkward it felt to declare the problem. It was like there was no room to make a fuss now, and you were sure you could patch it up when you got home, whenever that was.Â
Watching the city lights pass with burning, exhausted, eyes as the entrance sign for Med comes into view. You try and sit up a little more, grateful for the darkness to conceal your contorted face of pain. Up ahead you could see the others were waiting outside, Jay and Hailey were essentially the leaders of Intelligence right now.
-
Jay kills the engine and immediately exits the vehicle, Hailey is quick to follow as they start walking in the direction of the others. You are slower to get out, thankful that you were on the other side of the truck to be concealed from view, gritting your teeth as you gracelessly slip out and stumble onto the concrete, just about staying on your feet.
âY/L/N, you coming?â Kevinâs footsteps approach as he calls out, you quickly shut the door and upright yourself, coming around to the front of the truck as you meet his eyes with a tight smile.
âYeah, Kev. Iâm coming.â Your voice is quiet, he looks as if heâs going to wait but you wave him off with another weary smile. âGo on, go ahead, Iâll catch up.â He hesitates like heâs about to say something else, but then he nods wordlessly and moves back towards the group, leaving you to trail behind.
You hear the click and see the flash of light as Jay locks the truck with his key fob, never looking back in your direction.
It made your chest ache, to have the scorn of your teammates, your friends⌠In particular, you and Jay had become close, good friends. He often felt like a brother to you, but you understood his need to be impartial right now.
You watch as your friends disappear into the building, no doubt to find out which surgical floor Hank had been taken to.
Youâre about to enter through the automatic doors when Jay comes back around a corner, heading towards you. He doesnât look any more forgiving than he had moments ago, eyeing you briefly before nodding in the opposite direction towards the direction of the ED.
âYou gonna see someone for the face? You should get cleaned up.â He waits for an answer, only the need for practicality could be heard in his voice.
You swallow, on the verge of caving and letting him know just how sick and close to passing out you felt. Before you know what youâre doing you shake your head ânoâ, a small voice in your head is screaming at you to stop being stupid, but you canât seem to make yourself concede.
Now you had become a glutton for punishment, no longer seeing the situation as black and white as you had previously. It was like youâd convinced yourself that you deserved to be hurt, that you were the reason this had all transpired.
You pray that your voice carries, and it does, you keep yourself professional, distant from your emotions, âItâs fine, Detective. I want to be with the group.âÂ
Jay scrutinises you for a moment, folding his arms as if to protect himself from your pained and dishevelled appearance, remaining stoic. Then his jaw tightens, nodding, âHeâs in emergency surgery, Rhodes is with himâ, turning on his heels with the expectation you would keep up and follow.
And you do.
You surprise yourself with the way youâre able to keep pace, your mouth had become strangely tingly like you had pins and needles on your tongue, your extremities had begun to feel intensely cold, and your feet felt leaden with each confident stride you managed to make. You were under no illusions that something was very wrong, you think the tingling just may well be the undercurrent of a panic attack.
Jay stares at the door in the elevator, never once speaking or turning to engage with you, you know this because if he had looked at you he may well have seen the way you shivered, wincing under the bright lights above, blood slowly dripping from your shirt in thick globules onto the rubber floor beneath your feet - your tac vest had done a considerable job of stemming the flow of blood.Â
When the doors open Jay is swift to flash his badge to the nurse at the station who tells him where the others had gone to wait; you canât tell if youâre walking straight or not but the nurse mustn't spot anything too amiss as she waves you on to follow Jay with a small smile.
Once youâre in the dimly lit space of chairs, broken up by small tables with magazines strewn on them, you avoid any eye contact.
In your mind you convince yourself youâre still doing a great job of playing it cool, but now that youâd slowed, no longer trying to keep pace with Jay, you could feel the gravity of your situation.Â
Your luck with evading attention was beginning to wane, Kim watched you worriedly from her seat, nudging Adam hard as if to say âAre we really doing this? Look at her.â Your steps had become a half stagger, one that only came from some kind of impairment.Â
Even Jay is more tuned in to you now, really taking a look at you without the veil of anger over his eyes. Kevin is on the edge of getting to his feet, followed by Hailey who does stand.
âY/N, are you alright?â Itâs Hailey who speaks first, eyeing Jay with a pointed look.Â
You snap out of your haze, attempting to acknowledge the voice that seemed far away, the voice that sounded like Hailey.Â
As you look up, directing your attention to the figure standing a few feet away, you realise that your image recognition was way off, every shape had a strange haze, no longer clear to your vision. Your eyes felt hot, and your back was in agony, the tremors continued their steady quake through your ailing body.Â
You were the only people in the waiting area, a seemingly quiet night on the trauma service.
When you have a hard time focusing, not even managing a full syllable of speech, Hailey moves forward to grasp your arms gently, eyes widening in alarm when youâre hot to the touch.Â
âY/N? I think you should sit down, or we should go to the ED.â The last part is directed at the others, each of them nodding as they move in with concern. Jay comes to your other side, now checking you over as Hailey holds you steady, you didnât just have a busted-up face, that much was clear.
You try to move your mouth, but the words donât come out. It becomes harder to get a full breath as your legs become impossibly heavy, the tingling of your limbs more extreme as an intense high-pitched whine pierces your ears.
âJesus Christ, Y/N,â Jay exclaims, looking at Hailey with alarm as he pulls away his fingers covered in fresh, warm, blood, doing a double take of the tear in your tac vestâs material, it was clearly sodden with blood.
âThis is fresh. I think she was stabbed.âÂ
Realisation swoops in like a sucker punch to your friends, the blissful release of the secret youâd been keeping somehow frees your mind and body, you let go of your composure. You no longer feel your legs, your weakened body sinking as you lose your balance.Â
You arenât thinking anymore, barely grasping onto consciousness as you slur your words, every breath is pained. You can see the outline of Jay and Hailey who carefully and quickly work to lay you down, sinking to their knees as they check you for more injuries.Â
Voice garbled, trying to regain your eyesight on your friends, stinging tears falling from your eyes, clutching loosely at Jayâs arm as you cry out in pain, âSo-rry, sor-rryâŚâÂ
âShh, no, no, itâs okay, weâre here. Weâre sorry.â Jay soothes, trying to get your vest off and get a better look at the injury. Kim kneels by your head, pushing her gilet underneath to cushion you, she soothes a hand through your hair, encouraging you to stay awake. Adam raises your feet in his lap to keep your blood pressure elevated, watching on in shock.
âHey, can we get some help over here?â Kevin hollers, running down the short stretch of the corridor from the waiting area to the nurseâs desk.
Trembling hard, your eyes begin to flutter, darkness is all you know as your body convulses on the floor of the waiting room, and your friends try to keep you still to avoid you injuring yourself further. Two nurses and one of the surgeons come running from down the hall, quick to instruct the team on how to proceed as they tend to your seizing body, calling out for a trauma team to attend immediately.Â
-
There are a few things that youâre aware of as you come closer to consciousness, the first is how cold you are, you shiver as you lay prone on what you assume is a hospital bed if the smell of the room is anything to go by. Your throat feels strange, a weird metallic taste sits just beyond your tonsils, it makes you pretty sure everythingâs real and not some kind of disappointing afterlife.Â
The second thing that comes to your mind is how you feel as though every nerve ending aches, most prominently in your side and lower back, where the stab wound had been. It doesnât gripe at your body in the same way, but it still aches heavily with the occasional sting.
The third and fourth things are nausea and dry mouth, these are the things that prompt you to push your heavy eyelids open, you fight the drowsiness and shove it to the side in favour of assessing your surroundings.
Yes, you were in a hospital bed, that much was obvious as the myriad of lines and tubes protrude from your weakened body, and your heart rate beeped steadily through the monitor beside you. Another sharp sting aggravates your side, and you wince, trying to take a slow and steady breath with the aid of the mask over your face.
Under the low-lit darkness of your room, you spot someone sitting in the chair, your eyes arenât quite focused but you are 90% certain that person was Jay.
Thereâs a sharp sensation in your back, not like before but present enough to make you grunt in discomfort. You reach out an unsteady hand to press the call button for someone to attend the room, not quite able to use your voice to alert Jay, not yet.
Everything hurt and you had a lot of questions about what became of you after you made it to the waiting room for Hankâs surgery. The last thing you remembered was standing in an elevator with Jay.
A nurse entering your room wakes your watcher up, Jay sits up straight as his head snaps to your bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. In your increasing clarity, you realise that Jay now had at least a few days more beard growth on his face, giving you some indication of how long youâd been out.
âY/N.â He murmurs, not yet moving as he lets the nurse see you first. You give him a weak wave of fingers, an upturn of your lips that you hope qualified as a smile.
You tear your eyes away from Jay, focusing on the kind-faced nurse in front of you who is taking note of your vitals and readings. âHey, hon, how are you feeling?â
You blink, swallowing against the dryness of your mouth as you try and take the mask away. The nurse gently puts it back, shaking her head. âItâs alright, I can understand you from underneath the mask, you need to keep it on, darlinâ.âÂ
Your eyes droop, and you nod, grateful that you wouldnât have to forgo the ease of the mask just yet. The nurse patiently waits for you to tell her how youâre doing, you slowly roll your head around your neck, trying to ease the ache there even if it does make you a little dizzy.
âMâcold, thirsty and it kinda hurts.â You stated. The nurse smiles sympathetically, nodding in understanding.Â
Thereâs an urge to sit up a little more in the bed, but you realise your limbs are way too heavy for even an attempt. So you let out a small sigh, noticing the deep muscular ache all the more, beneath the blanket you could feel a contraption on your legs squeezing - you'd heard about them, they were there to keep your blood flowing back to your heart whilst you were recovering.Â
âWe can sort that out, hon, no worries at all. Let me get you another blanket in just a moment. Youâre currently on IV fluids, but I can give you some damp swabs for your lips, to help get rid of the dry sensation in your mouth. We can up your painkillers now too, thatâs not a problem, alright? Whatever you need, Y/N, we can work something out.â The nurse squeezes your arm gently, reassuring you that you were in a safe and trusted space.
âThank you so much.â You rasp, taking a moment to collect your thoughts.Â
âDonât you even mention it, itâs what Iâm here for.â The nurse deflects the praise, she was sincere in her words, and you feel suitably mothered. She has you smiling a little more as she pats your leg and moves away to sort what you needed.
Youâre left to the still of the room once again, seconds tick by when you remember Jay. You turn your head with sudden realisation, watching as he shakes his head with a small laugh, but the laugh is laced withâŚsadness?
âHi.â You murmur, huffing through the mask, feeling your stomach taught with nerves. You had got yourself into a life-threatening position, and you had probably scared your team half to death. If they werenât pissed before, you could understand if they were now.
âHi.â Jay returns, moving closer with the chair as he studies you again like he had before you seized and fell unconscious. This time, however, his eyes are much softer, his expression tender and sincere, in that brotherly way you had become accustomed to. He reaches out a hand, wanting to take yours. You oblige almost instantly, the warmth of his skin heating the clamminess of yours.
âYou really scared us, you know that?â Jayâs eyebrows lift in question - as if to put a sharp point on his statement. Frustration, fear and relief sculpt his face into the most furrowed of frowns. Thereâs a beat before he adds an extra point, âYou scared me, Y/N. What were you thinking?â The tone isnât anger or disappointment, itâs confusion and genuine anguish.
Jayâs eyes were dark with circles, no doubt exhausted from the last few days, between the case, Hank and you, there had been no time to find peace or recuperation, it had only been a waiting game.
You feel your heart sink, you didnât like that you had lost your sense of reason, and you didnât like that that faulty reasoning had resulted in the worry plastered all over Jayâs face.
âJayâŚI⌠I wasnât thinking. I just felt like it was too selfish to try and argue my case at the time, I didnât want to be a burden but everything just ran away from me. Iâm so sorry.â
Jay looks back at you, blinking, shaking his head as a tear escapes his eye, âI donât want you to be sorry, Y/N. Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorry that we didnât take the time to really understand what happened to Hank, Iâm so sorry that we didnât make sure you were taken care of too. We all let our hot-headedness take over, and that was inexcusable. We know who you are, Y/N, and we know youâd have never let anything happen to any one of us if you could have helped it. Hell, you saved Hank, Y/N, you know that right? Any longer and theyâd have killed him, for sure.â
You sniff, crying as you hear those words of absolution. Jay stands and leans forward to carefully wrap you up in a hug, warm arms secured around you as you rest your head against his chest, feeling his palm slowly soothe over your aching upper back.
Then, a light switch clicks in your mind.Â
Hank.
You slowly pull away, still holding Jayâs arm as he sits back in the chair, watching you for any signs of distress. You stare back at him,Â
âHankâs alive?â You ask quietly, scared that you might have misheard him previously.Â
Jay nods, grateful to be the bearer of good news, he smiles, âYeah, sweetheart. Heâs alive, heâs down the hall from here recovering.â
âOh, thank god.â You exhale, feeling a whoosh of relief wash over you.
The nurse returns holding a second blanket, a tray with what looks like giant marshmallows on sticks and a signed chart which you assume has your painkiller dosage on there.
Jay moves back out of the way to let the nurse sort you out. You catch him just watching, you can see the tension in his body is far less now, and you feel relieved for both yourself and him. You knew what a weight it was for him to take care of the unit alongside Voight.
The nurse adjusts the blanket over you, âHere we go.â she winks, moving next to key in some instructions on the machine controlling your painkiller dosage. You thank her as instantaneously thereâs a growth in the warmth over your extremities and a sudden lightness to your pain.
Then, she gently removes your mask, before dabbing a âmarshmallowâ in a cup of water, âJust press your lips on this, itâll help.â She encourages you, and you do as instructed, humming as the coolness of the liquid soothes your chapped lips and dry mouth.
You nod in the affirmative of you being satisfied, and she takes it away, placing it in the tray she brought with her. She takes the mask and gestures for you to let her put it back over your face.
âWe want this on a little longer. Dr Marcel did your surgery. He had to perform some repairs to your kidney. I canât give you the full details but the reason you became so unwell was the forming of a hematoma, a clot around the point of injury, your injury would be considered a grade III when it comes to renal trauma.â You nod, wordlessly taking in the new information, prompting the nurse to carry on, âYou shouldnât worry, though, the prognosis is positive and you did not need a kidney removed. heâs going to come by in an hour or so to check on you himself. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, just press the call button or your detective can come to get us, okay?âÂ
You want to laugh at the phrase âyour detectiveâ, as if Jay was your personal assistant, the smugness on your face didnât go unnoticed by the detective in question, making him smile too.Â
You then mull over the fact that your kidney had been damaged, you had needed a repair, and it definitely explained why you had felt so sick. Coming back out of your thoughts you see the nurse waiting for a response, hurrying yourself to reply,
âOf course, thank you.â You watch as the nurse leaves before turning back to Jay. He tilts his head slightly, curious as to what you wanted to say, âWhat?âÂ
You bite your lip, unsure whether to speak, âYou donât have to stay, you know? I donât want you wasting time here.âÂ
The second the words land on Jayâs ears you regret speaking them, you knew better than to push him away, especially after something like this.Â
He shakes his head, scooting closer again, âReally? I think I get to choose where to be, and I want to be here with you, kiddo.â Heâs lightly stern with you, you knew how much he looked out for you, and if you were being honest you didnât want him to leave. Not for one second.
You sigh, smiling sheepishly, âOkay. Just so you know Jay, saying âthank youâ seems like a real understatement of my gratitude, but thank you, man, seriouslyâŚ.â You have another question, âWhat about Hank though?âÂ
Jay waves the question off, âHeâs got Adam and Kim with him, weâve been taking it in turns between the both of you, Hailey and Kevin have gone to shower, change and grab a bite.â He continues, âHank wants to see you by the way, as soon as youâre allowed, or at least face time you. Heâs in good spirits, all things considered, he told us what happened, Y/N, weâve launched an investigation into Arnold.â
Your stomach flips. Arnold. âYou have?â You ask, in disbelief that your theory was actually definitely the truth.Â
âYeah, Hank knew something was up before the breach, but he couldnât quite figure out what, but then it was too late. Now heâs got CIs and us working on it, you know what heâs like, trying to work from his damn hospital bed.â
You roll your eyes, not at all surprised Hank would be trying to take down someone from the confines of a hospital bed. You laugh, âSounds about rightâ.
Jay laughs too, squeezing your hand in his, he takes in your appearance. You were there, but your eyes seemed to involuntarily droop, you were clearly fighting sleep, fighting the exhaustion that sat firmly in your bones.
âListen, Y/N, why donât you try and get some rest, alright? Youâve only just woken up, and you already look like you could sleep another year. Iâll be right here, and whatever you need, we got it, okay?â
Part of you wants to protest, you still had so many questions about what actually happened to you, what happened after you passed out, and just what did Marcel need to do in your surgery? However, you had to concede the answers would have to wait until the surgeon did his rounds, and until you could keep your eyes open for more than two minutes.Â
âMâkay, I want to fight it, but I literally canât.â You mumble, grasping a little more onto Jayâs hand, clasping his wrist. Jay finds it immeasurably cute, clasping his own hands over yours as he rubs a thumb over your forearm, soothing you back to sleep.
âYouâll stay?â You ask, voice thick with approaching slumber, head sinking back into the pillows.
He nods with a doting smile, âIâll stay, kid. Get some sleep.â
Fin.
-
Tags: @dumb-fawkin-bitch - @resanoona - @elius-learns-to-write - @enchantedblackrose (This is a platonic-sibling-ish??? fic, the reader isn't directly a sibling though.)
Recovering from mental illness is a weird thing, particularly when you have always struggled. Itâs not fast, and itâs definitely not easy, and it is not as obvious as you would think when it does happen. It happens so slowly and by such slow increments that you donât even realize anything has changed until one day you are standing at the kitchen sink, hands in the water, sobbing with relief and joy because you realized that for the first time since you were five you donât hate yourself, and you donât fight for breath on a daily basis anymore, and your tummy isnât always messed up, and you havenât cried yourself to sleep in months, and you actually feel like getting out of bed in the morning, and you thought about dying in maybe a year, and you actually feel okay for the first time in decades even though you were certain that even just okay-ness, let alone happiness, was even in the cards for you.
Peaky blinders x sister reader with sensory issues, sensory overload piece next dears (requests are also open â¤)
Summary and cw: Reader goes into hyper sensitivity. I do not have Autism, I do however, have ADHD. I suffer with hypersensitivity and sensory overload. This particular story is one I'm writing off perosnal experience. It affects everyone differently, this is just how it affects me.
Tommy wouldn't say there was something off about you, but he'd probably say there was something peculiar about you.
You'd always been particular about things, ever since you were a baby, he can remember. He can remember you being /weird/ with things- like texture or temperature.
And he, along with Arthur, John and polly, mostly just him and Polly, assumed it was just normal; because to an extent it was. Babies find new things everyday and sometimes they don't like them, but they grow into them.
But then it became clear you /weren't/ growing into them. There were shirts you refused to wear because if how they felt on you. You'd cry and kick and scream. You wouldn't touch cold water unless it was for drinking- and don't get him started on wet floors.
As you got older, your reactions changed. You matured and he thought maybe you'd grow out of it. He hated seeing you upset
Wishful thinking. You didn't.
Here you were, 18 and gagging over how a glass mug felt in hand.
It'd been a rough morning, starting when you'd woken up. It was too hot, for one. You kicked the blankets off and moved to get up, the cold floors instantly sent chills through your body. Shoes were the first thing on, you couldn't deal with that today.
And dressing had gone okay until you'd reached for your sweater, touching the fabric you felt yourself gag. You take a deep breath, shaking your hand before going to put it on.
It was fine then, after you'd taken a few breaths and stretched the collar and you hoped to christ you stayed that way.
Finishing your routine, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth (which was hard enough on its own), you head down the stairs. You avoid touching the railing, unsure how your body would react.
"'Morning poppet," Pol hums.
"Mornin auntie."
"There's some hot water in the kitchen, get yourself some tea." She smiles softly and continues her hike to another room.
"Mmm," you nod tiredly.
You weren't sure you'd be able to finish tea, even start it really, not with how sick you felt. Your mind flickered back to the floor and the shirt, you groaned softly. Christ that only made it worse-
"Hey now,"
"Oh- sorry Tommy." You smile sheepishly. "Good mornin,"
"Good mornin', lost in thought already? Pretty early for that."
"Wish I could stop." You hum with a sigh reaching up in the cupboard to grab a mug. You slid it off the wood shelf.
Your body shuttered and you gagged, followed by a cough before dropping the cup. It shattered once it hit the ground and you groaned, squatting and holding your head.
You vaguely heard Tommy call your name, you were too busy trying not to puke. Everything was too much now- your shoes touched wrong, you couldn't wiggle your toes enough. Your hair felt weird along your fingers and your sweater- the fucking sweater. It just sat /wrong/.
"Hey," Tommy whispers, he looks panicked. "Hey are you okay?"
"Tommy," you take a shakey breath. You could feel the gag at the back of your throat. "Get my shirt off- get my fucking shirt off," you looked at the ground, trying not to focus on the fabric sitting against your skin.
"What...?"
"Tommy pull it off!"
"Okay- okay," his hands immediately drop to the hem of you sweater and he pushes it up your torso before tugging it over your head. He tossed it to the side. You're left in nothing but pants and a bra now, heaving as you screw your eyes shut.
"What's going on?" John's at the door now, sounding just as panicked as Tommy looked.
"Go get Pol," he says simply.Â
"What's-"
"Go get Pol." He hissed, sending a glare to his brother.
You slide your hand under his jacket to grab his sleeve before dropping your head to your brothers chest. He shrugs off his coat and abandons it where it drops.
"Can I touch you?" He whispers, his hands hovering over your skin.
You take a deep breath and nod. "You can try," you mumbled.
He placed a hand on your upper back, the other in you hair. You don't seem to react and he silently thanks the heavens before stroking your hair.
"You alright?" His voice is soft, laced with concern. He understood it now, you had an episode. He hasn't seen one in years, especially not one this bad.
You nod, swallowing thickly.
"Do you need a bucket?"
You shake your head and close your eyes.
"Is she alright?" Pol calls out as soon as she's stepped into the room.
"Had an episode Pol," Tommy strokes your hair and looks up. "Can you turn on the record and tell the boys it'll be a quieter day today?"
"Tommy.." You mumble.
"And get her the white shirt she has, the long sleeved one with the small strawberry on the left."
Of course he'd take care of it. It was Tommy, regardless of how you'd voice your distaste for it, hezd always take care of the situation.
"Does she need a bucket?"
"No, she's alright."
"Broke your glass Aunt Pol," you whisper. "M sorry,"
"It's alright poppet, I can get another one."
You nod slightly.
She takes off and you can here her Inform Arthur and John. You smile slightly.
"Is it happening often? I haven't seen you like this in almost two years. You just not telling us?"
Then music.
"'Not this bad," you sigh. "Smaller things though, yeah."
He nods slightly. "Alright,"
"M sorry you have to deal with it."
"Don't be, promise it's no trouble."
He takes your shirt from Polly and slips over your head. You pull your arms through.
It was a shirt he had made, it was soft, oa fabric you never seems to mind. It was years old, and you'd slip into it whenever things got to be too much, or texture just wasn't cooperating.
"Alright sweet girl," he squeezes your arm gently. "Let's move to the parlor." He lifts you as he stands.
"Tommy I can walk,"
"I know," he smiles. "I used to carry you when you were a kid though, and much less of a rat."
"Not a damn rat," you grumble, thankful when he sets you on the couch.
"You alright?" John asked worriedly.
"You don't need a bucket do you?"
"Why do you all keep asking if I need a bucket? No Arthur, I appreciate the concern, I don't need a bucket."
Request by anon: Hello! These prompts are so cute! Could I maybe request or a tommyshelbyxstepdaughterreader? with the prompts 45 (itâs me itâs me calm down) 41 (be honestly are you ok) 39 ( where are you) or Helen at like any of the hurt comfort prompts đđ and then maybe fluff of like 15 or 10? You tantalum donât have to use them or if you only want to use one? But I just had an idea like what if Tommy got married to readers mother and while they are civil the two really donât know each other. But one day the readers mom is like out of town and reader sneaks out to a party which kinda goes south and she gets really scared but She forgets her mom is gone so itâs Tommy who picks up the phone and comes to get her. And then heâll comforts her after when sheâs still terrified of what happened (I changed a couple of things but I tried to stick to your request as much as possible)
Prompts are from this list:Â 10. âwe havenât been spending a lot of time together lately, letâs change thatâ 15. âcan you hold my hand please?â 39. âI donât know where I am, help me.â41. âBe completely honest with me, are you ok?â 45. âItâs me, itâs me! Calm down, itâs just me.â
Characters: Tommy Shelby, Stepdaughter!Reader, and a couple of OCâs
Summary: Y/n has never been a fan of her new stepfather, Thomas Shelby, but after a night out goes south, Y/n starts to think differently about the man.
Warnings: language, some men trying to take advantage of a seventeen year old (not lots of details), Tommy being Tommy when someone hurts someone he loves (This is not canon when it comes to timeline. Iâm thinking itâs around s3/s4 but Tommy never married Grace or had Charlie)
hi! hereâs my peaky blinders master list for all the one shots/fics and stuff. Iâve done wayyy too many head canons and blurbs etc for Shelby!sis reader to make a master list for that, but you can find those through the search bar - plus thatâs most of what my blog really is!Â
Shelby sister!readerÂ
Defiant
Out of The Closet
Torn Apart
Fight It Together
My Love, My Life
Liability
Bunny
Puddles
A Bakers Help : a gangsters light (part two)
Close call
Terrible liar
Protected
lessons
stay innocent
down the isle
little artist
never be the same
long time no see
grief
glasses
always like you
you can let go
Tommy Shelby x reader
Everything is Changing (series)Â
part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six // part seven
Christmas
new years prompts
âThe party was great but now itâs time to find their way home, in the middle of the night in the freezing cold in high heels and a party dress.â
âItâs a couple minutes after midnight and there were already a couple resolutions broken.â
âShe never thought watching billions of Euros going up in colorful flames and loud noises could be this romanticâ
Peaky blinders x sister reader with sensory issues, sensory overload piece next dears (requests are also open â¤)
Summary and cw: Reader goes into hyper sensitivity. I do not have Autism, I do however, have ADHD. I suffer with hypersensitivity and sensory overload. This particular story is one I'm writing off perosnal experience. It affects everyone differently, this is just how it affects me.
Tommy wouldn't say there was something off about you, but he'd probably say there was something peculiar about you.
You'd always been particular about things, ever since you were a baby, he can remember. He can remember you being /weird/ with things- like texture or temperature.
And he, along with Arthur, John and polly, mostly just him and Polly, assumed it was just normal; because to an extent it was. Babies find new things everyday and sometimes they don't like them, but they grow into them.
But then it became clear you /weren't/ growing into them. There were shirts you refused to wear because if how they felt on you. You'd cry and kick and scream. You wouldn't touch cold water unless it was for drinking- and don't get him started on wet floors.
As you got older, your reactions changed. You matured and he thought maybe you'd grow out of it. He hated seeing you upset
Wishful thinking. You didn't.
Here you were, 18 and gagging over how a glass mug felt in hand.
It'd been a rough morning, starting when you'd woken up. It was too hot, for one. You kicked the blankets off and moved to get up, the cold floors instantly sent chills through your body. Shoes were the first thing on, you couldn't deal with that today.
And dressing had gone okay until you'd reached for your sweater, touching the fabric you felt yourself gag. You take a deep breath, shaking your hand before going to put it on.
It was fine then, after you'd taken a few breaths and stretched the collar and you hoped to christ you stayed that way.
Finishing your routine, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth (which was hard enough on its own), you head down the stairs. You avoid touching the railing, unsure how your body would react.
"'Morning poppet," Pol hums.
"Mornin auntie."
"There's some hot water in the kitchen, get yourself some tea." She smiles softly and continues her hike to another room.
"Mmm," you nod tiredly.
You weren't sure you'd be able to finish tea, even start it really, not with how sick you felt. Your mind flickered back to the floor and the shirt, you groaned softly. Christ that only made it worse-
"Hey now,"
"Oh- sorry Tommy." You smile sheepishly. "Good mornin,"
"Good mornin', lost in thought already? Pretty early for that."
"Wish I could stop." You hum with a sigh reaching up in the cupboard to grab a mug. You slid it off the wood shelf.
Your body shuttered and you gagged, followed by a cough before dropping the cup. It shattered once it hit the ground and you groaned, squatting and holding your head.
You vaguely heard Tommy call your name, you were too busy trying not to puke. Everything was too much now- your shoes touched wrong, you couldn't wiggle your toes enough. Your hair felt weird along your fingers and your sweater- the fucking sweater. It just sat /wrong/.
"Hey," Tommy whispers, he looks panicked. "Hey are you okay?"
"Tommy," you take a shakey breath. You could feel the gag at the back of your throat. "Get my shirt off- get my fucking shirt off," you looked at the ground, trying not to focus on the fabric sitting against your skin.
"What...?"
"Tommy pull it off!"
"Okay- okay," his hands immediately drop to the hem of you sweater and he pushes it up your torso before tugging it over your head. He tossed it to the side. You're left in nothing but pants and a bra now, heaving as you screw your eyes shut.
"What's going on?" John's at the door now, sounding just as panicked as Tommy looked.
"Go get Pol," he says simply.Â
"What's-"
"Go get Pol." He hissed, sending a glare to his brother.
You slide your hand under his jacket to grab his sleeve before dropping your head to your brothers chest. He shrugs off his coat and abandons it where it drops.
"Can I touch you?" He whispers, his hands hovering over your skin.
You take a deep breath and nod. "You can try," you mumbled.
He placed a hand on your upper back, the other in you hair. You don't seem to react and he silently thanks the heavens before stroking your hair.
"You alright?" His voice is soft, laced with concern. He understood it now, you had an episode. He hasn't seen one in years, especially not one this bad.
You nod, swallowing thickly.
"Do you need a bucket?"
You shake your head and close your eyes.
"Is she alright?" Pol calls out as soon as she's stepped into the room.
"Had an episode Pol," Tommy strokes your hair and looks up. "Can you turn on the record and tell the boys it'll be a quieter day today?"
"Tommy.." You mumble.
"And get her the white shirt she has, the long sleeved one with the small strawberry on the left."
Of course he'd take care of it. It was Tommy, regardless of how you'd voice your distaste for it, hezd always take care of the situation.
"Does she need a bucket?"
"No, she's alright."
"Broke your glass Aunt Pol," you whisper. "M sorry,"
"It's alright poppet, I can get another one."
You nod slightly.
She takes off and you can here her Inform Arthur and John. You smile slightly.
"Is it happening often? I haven't seen you like this in almost two years. You just not telling us?"
Then music.
"'Not this bad," you sigh. "Smaller things though, yeah."
He nods slightly. "Alright,"
"M sorry you have to deal with it."
"Don't be, promise it's no trouble."
He takes your shirt from Polly and slips over your head. You pull your arms through.
It was a shirt he had made, it was soft, oa fabric you never seems to mind. It was years old, and you'd slip into it whenever things got to be too much, or texture just wasn't cooperating.
"Alright sweet girl," he squeezes your arm gently. "Let's move to the parlor." He lifts you as he stands.
"Tommy I can walk,"
"I know," he smiles. "I used to carry you when you were a kid though, and much less of a rat."
"Not a damn rat," you grumble, thankful when he sets you on the couch.
"You alright?" John asked worriedly.
"You don't need a bucket do you?"
"Why do you all keep asking if I need a bucket? No Arthur, I appreciate the concern, I don't need a bucket."
Pairing: Shelby Clan x Sister!Reader, Arthur Sr. x Daughter!Reader
Request: âHow about a peaky blinders x sister reader who has a stress seizure condition (I get âstressâ seizures). Anyway maybe reader is Johnâs twin and a mother figure to finny. So like when Arthur Sr. Come back R is under A LOT of emotional and physical stress from the business and what not and when he comes home it sends R into fit, and just like how the family deals with it (having prier knowledge of her condition). Sorry if this doesnât make sense or makes you uncomfortable. Keep up the amazing workâ - anon
Note: Disclaimer - I am NOT qualified to speak on terms of epileptic/nonepileptic seizures and the psychological/physical effects they can have on a person! However, I hope I did my very best to raise awareness. If any of you suffer from seizures, just know that I am extending ALL my love out to you and know that I am ALWAYS here to talk if you need it. You are stronger than you know. Thus, I hope you enjoy. All my love x
Warnings: Mentions of epilepsy, seizing, mentions of severe anxiety, swearing, drinking, fluff
Iâm really confused by people who excuse everything Anakin Skywalker did. Like yeah the guy had every reason to be pissed off. He had a shit childhood, got adopted by some space monks who dismissed his needs, got manipulated by a creepy older man, lost his mother, had all kinds of trauma. I can totally understand why he was angry and wanted change. But I donât think killing everyone was the best coping mechanism. Call me crazy, but I think there were some steps he could have taken to change things before immediately jumping to space genocide.
