Serve & Protect

Serve & Protect

Summary: You moved to the small quiet town of Hawkins after transferring from the NYPD and reunite with your old partner, Jim Hopper. However, Hawkins isn't as quiet as it seems, and your past follows you there.

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Major Trigger Warning- mentions of past SA, violence, guns, language.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 13- if this is goodbye...

"After Sara I had to get away." Hopper suddenly started to say breaking the silence.

You remained curled up against his side, your face buried against his chest while he held you.

"I had to get away from that place. Had to outrun those memories, I guess." He continued to say quietly. "I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole town?"

You didn't respond, but he didn't expect you to either. Your tears had long ago dried, but he kept holding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe. You felt safe in his arms.

"What I'm trying to say is... I understand why you came to Hawkins to get away from that. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you when your past followed you here."

You tilted your head up towards him, but he was staring straight ahead looking anywhere but at you.

"It's not your job to protect me, Hop."

"Yeah, it is." He argued, sparing a quick glance down at you showing off the tears still shimmering in his eyes. "You're my Deputy. I'm responsible for you, but above all that, you're my best friend and I made a promise to not let that asshole hurt you again, and I failed."

"Hopper-"

"I should have protected you." His voice was heavy with shame, the same way his guilt weighed down upon his shoulders. He wiped his eyes with his free hand and let out a deep shaky breath before resting his head back against the brick wall.

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes after that. You didn't want to move out of Hoppers arms, and he clearly didn't want to let you go either, but you both knew that you had to go back inside and deal with this whole opening gate in Hawkins that Alexei knew about.

"Is it safe to come out?" Murray's voice suddenly shouted in the distance.

Hopper glanced down at you in his arms before looking in the direction of the man's voice.

"Yeah." He shouted back and a few seconds later Murray walked around the corner with two glasses of clear liquid.

"Figured you'd both could use a drink. Vodka?"

Hopper took one of the glasses without a word and skulled the mouthful of alcohol before you unwrapped yourself from around his side and took the other glass which Murray handed over with a gentle smile.

You nodded your thanks and down the drink welcoming the familiar burn of vodka.

"There's more inside if you guys are ready to come back in? Alexei has more details to share." Murray explained, turning on his heels and walking back towards the front door.

A few minutes later you were back on Murray's couch with another shot of Vodka while Alexei and Murray explained things in more details, including how to shut the opening gate.

Hopper re-laid all the information back to Doctor Owens... well, it was the phone number Owens had given him for emergencies and it wasn't Owens that answered. But Hopper told the person everything and requested military backup at Starcourt Mall. Whether the person on the phone believed everything he had just said is one thing and whether or not he passes it on to Doctor Owens was an entirely different thing.

"I should call Joyce and tell her what's going on." Hopper suddenly said, reaching for the phone on the table once again.

"What? Why?" You asked in confusion watching he grab the phone already dialling her number that he knew by heart.

"She's involved in this. She should know what's happening."

"No, you should keep this phone line open for when Owens calls." You argued not understanding the urgency for Joyce to know these details.

What was Joyce going to do? Was she going to go to Starcourt and take down the Russians by herself? Hell no.

"It will only take a minute." Hopper dismissed.

"Whatever." You huffed walking back to the kitchen and stealing another mouthful of Murray's vodka.

"Trouble in paradise?" Murray asked, raising his eyebrows as he motioned between you and Hopper.

"Don't know what you're talking about." You responded, screwing the cap back on the bottle.

Murray opened his mouth to argue but then Hopper walked into the kitchen, and he quickly shut his mouth.

"C'mon, we're heading back to Hawkins." He announced catching you by surprise.

"Why?" You asked in confusion because weren't you meant to wait by the phone for Doctor Owens to call?

"The kids are at the 4th of July festival and that is a stone's throw from Starcourt."

Good enough for you.

"Let's go then." You said, snapping into action.

You were back on the road within a few minutes. Murray and Alexei squished together in the back seat of the car while Hopper drove. The sun was beginning to set along the horizon, and it would be dark by the time you got back to Hawkins, but if the kids were at that festival, you had to find them.

-

Murray and Alexei remained in the car when you got to the festival. Hopper instructing them to go over the plans while you and him looked for the kids.

It turned out that finding the kids at this packed festival was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

"Hey, isn't that Karen Wheeler? Mikes mother?" You asked, pointing to the blonde woman who was entering one of the amusement rides.

"Yeah, let's see if she knows where the kids are." Hopper said, already heading straight over to the ride.

You weren't entirely sure what the ride was, but you flashed your Hawkins PD badge at the man by the gate who instantly let you and Hopper through without question. You stepped inside the large UFO shaped ride to find Karen inside with a bunch of other people.

"Karen Wheeler?" You called out, walking over to her.

The woman turned around at your voice and frowned a little in confusion when she saw you.

"Uh, what can I do for you Officer?"

"Have you seen the kids anywhere? The-the what do they call themselves? The party?" You asked causing the confusion to spread across her face even more.

"No, I-I haven't seen them. I don't think they're here yet. Why? Oh, God, what did Mike do now? Is he in trouble?" She asked sighing with a shake of her head.

"You three, up against the wall!" The lady by some kind of console in the centre of the ride ordered.

"They're not in trouble. But where are they?" Hopper clarified ignoring the other lady.

"Oh my gosh, I can hardly keep track these days. Uh, they were at, uh... Dustin's, then Lucas's, Max's... you know how it is, summer!"

You were about to ask further questions but then the ride door suddenly closed.

Oh, that ain't good.

"Last warning, you two. Up against the wall!" The worker by the control panel instructed.

"Hold the ride!" Hopper shouted back, but the woman shook her head.

"On your life, Magnum."

She pulled the lever on the control in front of her and the ride suddenly began to spin. Hopper quickly planted his back against one of the padded walls before he grabbed your hand and pulled you beside him.

Your back hit the padded wall just as the ride began to spin faster, and faster, and faster. You tilted your head up towards Hopper who met your gaze and squeezed your hand ever so slightly for silent comfort as the ride kept spinning rapidly.

Neither of you said anything nor did you release each other's hands as the ride continued to spin before eventually slowing down and coming to a stop a few minutes later.

"Hate is not a strong enough word for that ride." You muttered, Hopper still holding your hand as you walked out the UFO shaped hell ride.

Hopper snorted softly in amusement but didn't get a chance to respond.

"Jim! Jim! Y/N!" Murray's voice suddenly shouted, and you looked up to find him waving frantically in the distance at the two of you. "They got Alexei, Jim! Alexei! They got Alexei, Jim!"

Sudden dread filled your stomach. They got Alexei? Who the fuck was they?

"We gotta go." Hopper suddenly warned and just by the tone of voice alone, you knew it was bad.

You quickly looked up to find Hopper staring at someone off to the left and you followed his line of sight and spotted the terminator guy from earlier marching through the crowd towards you.

Ah, shit.

"We gotta go. Now."

Hopper's hand tightened around your own as he took off running in the opposite direction pulling you with him as you ran. However, you didn't get too far before you spotted another rough looking guy up ahead who seemed to be concealing something in his jacket.

Yeah, that was definitely a gun. Why bother hiding it like that if it's that obvious?

"Chief, there's another." You said, nodding in that other man's direction.

"Shit." Hopper cursed under his breath before diverting left, his hand still grasping yours tightly as you ran through the crowd and around food stalls. The people around you were completely oblivious to the Russian soldiers walking amongst them. They had no idea that anything was happening while you and Hopper ran for your lives.

More soldiers kept appearing at every turn and you very quickly realised that there was no way the two of you could outrun them, and Hopper seemed to realise that too. He came to a sudden halt in the middle of the crowd and let go of your hand before pulling out the car keys from his pocket and holding them out to you.

"Find Murray, get the car, bring it around back." He ordered, shoving the keys into your palm when you didn't take them.

"What- no. Hop, I'm not leaving you here. There's like six Russians with AK's walking around." You argued, grabbing his hand to stop him from running off.

"I can draw them away and give you time to get to the car. Now, go!"

"No! This feels like a goodbye. I am not leaving you here to die!" You snapped, angry tears rising in your eyes.

You have been through too much to lose Hopper. After everything that's happened you could not lose him. No way.

"Goodbye is always implied in this line of work. I guess I usually just put it out my mind. Maybe I shouldn't do that anymore." He began to say lifting his hand and cupping the side of your face with a gentle smile. "But if this is goodbye then..."

Hopper trailed off as he leant forward and captured your lips with his kissing you gently. Your body froze in absolute shock but only for a second before you lifted your hand and grabbed the back of his neck pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

A moment later Hopper pulled away, resting his forehead against yours as he breathed heavily, "I just had to do that once before I die."

"You are not dying." You stated sternly, biting your now swollen lip.

He nodded against your head, "then meet me around the back with a car."

"Hop-"

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his beautiful blue eyes locking with yours.

"Always."

"Then go." He responded glancing over his shoulder at the terminator guy who was getting closer through the crowd before focusing back on you. "Run, Y/N!"

Every muscle in your body was screaming at you not to go, but instead, you nodded and reluctantly sprinted off in the opposite direction while you heard Hopper behind you shouting at the Russians, luring them to him.

Jesus Christ, Jim. You better know what you're doing.

You doubled back to where you had last seen Murray and to your relief, he must have spotted you running around the festival like a headless chicken standing out in your uniform because he was shouting your name.

Following Murray through the crowded festival he led you around the back of a food stall and your heart shattered when you saw Alexei's lifeless body slumped down against the back wall.

Alexei, no.

You skidded to your knees beside him and tilted his head up from his chin knowing that position would be blocking his airways, but he was unresponsive and that's when you saw the bullet wound through his chest.

"No." You whispered to yourself shaking your head in denial.

"I-I just left for a minute... for a corn dog. A stupid corn dog." Murray was saying from somewhere behind you, his voice sounding as sad as you felt.

You pressed your hand against the still bleeding wound and pressed your fingers of the other against his neck trying to locate a pulse but there was nothing.

Alexei was dead.

"We need to go." You declared standing up and looking down at your blood-stained hand before taking in a deep breath. "We need to get to the car and meet Hopper around the back. Now."

Murray stared at you for a moment before glancing down at Alexei's dead body and he simply nodded. For the first time in as long as you've known him, Murray didn't have anything to say, so you nodded for him to follow and took off running in the direction of the parking lot, leaving Alexei's body behind.

Somehow you ran into Joyce Byers on your way to the parking lot. She was the one who had told Hopper that the kids were here, and she came here to find them, but was unable to.

A few minutes later you, Murray and Joyce were in the car speeding the car down the backroad behind the festival barely looking at where you were driving while you scanned the area for Hopper.

"Where is he?" Murray questioned.

"I don't know! Keep looking, I'll do another lap." You said once you reached the end of the festival.

Spinning the wheel, you turned the car around 180 degrees and sped back down the road you were just on until Hopper suddenly sprinted out from behind the back of one of the amusement rides.

"There!" Murray shouted the exact moment you saw him.

Slamming on the brakes, the car came to a rapid halt in the middle of the dirt road. Hopper ran over and jumped into the backseat not bothering to open the door of the convertible, and you took off down the road in the opposite direction of the festival.

"Alexei?" Hopper asked, glancing between you and Murray before looking over at Joyce in surprise at her presence.

You shook your head silently and Hopper's expression dropped before a Russian suddenly started speaking through the walkie talkie that he was holding.

"Hey, translate." Hopper instructed handing a walkie talkie to Murray.

Murray took the walkie without a word, and you realised that Hopper must have gotten it from one of the soldiers. Did that mean the terminator guy was finally dead? God, you hoped so.

The person kept speaking in Russian through the walkie but whatever they were saying, Murray clearly didn't like.

"What is it?" You asked hesitantly, glancing over at him before focusing back on the road as you drove.

"The kids are at the mall." Murray began to inform before he glanced over his shoulder at Hopper and Joyce. "The Russians are closing in on them."

"Not on my watch." You declared putting your foot down on the gas as you spun the car around in the direction of Starcourt Mall. 

-

Next Chapter

MASTERLIST pinned to profile

In The Bleak Midwinter

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 & Part 13

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mentions of death

Gif Credit: @peakymurphy​ & @peakyblinders1919​ Thank you for letting me use your beautiful gifs!

Tag: If you want to be tagged let me know.

My Intent: Alright, I’m attempting to purge this from my soul. So this is sort of a hybrid. It’s first person, because I love how that makes it feel, but you are also a character, with a name and backstory. So hopefully you don’t hate it.

Also, it should be noted I love Grace and Tommy. So Grace will be held in high regard in this story. This story takes place in season 3, I think. And this is my first Peaky Blinders story, so go easy on me. I’m full newb.

My other stories are not forgotten, but this idea gave me no peace.

As the car takes the long drive up to the manor, you can hardly believe your eyes. 

It’s far bigger than anything you’ve seen in a long time, but you expect nothing less for Mr. Thomas Shelby.

The manor is a rich red color that reminds you of the clay that sticks to your boots after a heavy rain has washed away the top soil. 

The windows stare back you like blinking eyes - tall and plentiful, like gatekeepers for the secrets inside. 

With a grand stone archway entrance that announces you’ve arrived.  

It’s more than you ever hoped to offer Finn, compared to that tiny shoebox room you were squeezed in before in Small Heath. 

It’s quiet out here in the country too. No drunken men hollering in the streets, fornicating and fighting before your son’s eyes at every turn. 

The idea of working for Thomas Shelby is an intimidating one, as it should be, but it’s a chance for Finn. A chance for something more, so you had to take it.

Finn gawks in wonder as the car pulls up the drive. 

His jaw slack, eyes wide, and you have to tell him more than once to return to his seat while the car is still moving, as he fidgets about the vehicle in amazement at what’s before him. 

You catch the smile that edges at Polly’s face as she watches your son. And you get the sense you or Finn remind her of someone, someone she lost or maybe a former version of herself, and that’s why she’s extended this offer so graciously to you.

“Who’s this? Tommy said no more visitors.” A young woman asks as Polly leads you and Finn in through the entrance, ceiling so tall you have to crane your neck back to see the top.

With dark curly hair swaying around her shoulders, deep features, and fire in her eyes, surely, she’s a Shelby. 

And judging by the way she looks only a few years older than you, you guess she’s Thomas’s sister, Ada. 

You’ve heard of her too, you’ve heard of them all, but who hasn’t in these parts.

“I brought her here to help with Charlie, Ada. Tommy is going to need a hand.” Polly says with ease, as if she’s got it all already figured out. 

A beautiful woman for her age. With dark curly locks and skin pale like the full moon. There’s something bewitching about Polly’s eyes and the curl of her mouth that makes you think she knows everything, capable of anything, and probably both.

But the weary look Ada sends her way makes you feel less confident about the whole arrangement. Like maybe things aren’t as settled as Polly made them seem.

Turning your way, Ada looks you over. 

“And the boy?” She inquires with a tilt of her head, glancing at your son who stands nervously at your side, trying to look taller than his tender years.

“Her son.” Polly answers before you can.

That answer seems to soften Ada a bit. Her eyes easing off their edge as a small almost indiscernible smile curls at the corner of her mouth.

“A widow, good.” She says, mostly to herself. 

And the way she eyes you, as you stand silently hoping to be approved, you can see the idea of your loss eases something inside her.

“Very well, Tommy’s in the parlor.” You hear her say, as you turn back to Finn with the feel of his tug on the length of your coat.

Your eyes meet your boy’s baby blues as he gazes up at you as if he’s torn between sheer excitement and intimation being surrounded by all this.

“What’s a widow, mum?” His young voice asks you as he stays close around your legs.

Finn’s never seen a place like this and certainly never stepped foot inside one. 

You want things for your boy, good things, better than you have, but you’ve only ever been able to scrape by. 

But this is your chance to change all that, your chance to give him what you never could before.

“Your mum apparently.” You say with a small laugh, smiling down at him with reassurance as you pinch playfully at the apple of his cheek.

“This way,” You hear Polly say as you glance back up with the sound of her heels clicking on the wooden floors. 

Taking Finn’s hand as your lead through the house. Deep mahogany walls greet you at every turn, ornately carved and shining. 

Beautiful things fill every space your eyes can reach. Things you’ve only seen in the pictures and could never imagine lying before you in full color.

Finn’s hand reaches out in curiosity before you quickly slap it away.

“Touch nothing.” You scold him gently as fear speeds up your heart. This place like one giant bomb, set anything off and this opportunity could blow up around you.

Entering the parlor, you take in the sight of the walls filled with books as you follow Polly near his desk. 

Mr. Shelby’s seated behind it, only glancing up as you approach. 

He eyes you, your eyes catching as you feel Finn dart behind your coat. You don’t look away, don’t blink, you’re not even sure you breathe, it feels like a test and you’ll be damned if you fail it.

Polly starts in, pulling his attention as you suck in a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

He’s not as tall as you expected, Mr. Shelby. The myth larger than the man, but he has an energy about him. Bigger than life. Like a vortex, pulling all the energy from the room and pointing it squarely upon him. 

It’s in that moment you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Comin’ into the home of a man who’s just lost his wife, offerin’ to help with his now motherless child, the situation couldn’t be more bleak.

You try and smooth down Finn’s hair, drawing him out from behind you as Polly tries to seal the deal. Their words filling your ears as you turn back.

“Fuckin hell Pol, he has one. Just cause she’s- doesn’t mean-“ Mr. Shelby stumbles over his own words and you can see he’s growing agitated.

“I know, Tommy, I know, but you need help. Children require a lot of time. You have the business to think about and she needs a job. It solves both your problems.” Polly says diplomatically, and you get the sense she probably knows how to talk to him better than anyone.

“She looks weak, Pol. Skin and bone the best you can find.” He insults, his eyes surveying you briefly like an item he’s considering for purchase, but never meets your eyes.

It’s true, you could use a few pounds, but you’ve barely eaten. What little you have mostly goes to Finn. 

You take just enough to get by, keep going. You don’t have the luxuries of more, but circumstance hasn’t dampened your spirit. 

If anything, it’s made you more strong willed, you have no doubts what you’re fighting for.

“That may be, but I’m strong and good with children.” You speak up suddenly before Polly gets a chance and all eyes turn on you instantly. 

Polly looks surprised, but Mr. Shelby, his gaze is to vacant to warrant anything worth counting.

“We’ll see about that.” He answers before rising from his chair and calling for the help.

“Mary!” An old woman appears in the doorway behind you before Mr. Shelby summons her to retrieve his son. 

When she returns with the boy, Mr. Shelby is quick to take him. Holding him close as he walks over to you, his gaze cautious as he stands before you.

The boy is precious to say the least. With big round cheeks, sky blue eyes, and straight rust colored hair. 

He looks like his father, but the color reminds you of Finn’s when he was just a baby.

“Hi Charlie, I’m miss Fiona.” You tell him softly, smiling over at him as your fingertips dance along his hair, the apples of his cheeks, settling on his plump little hand as he wraps it around your finger.

You catch the little boy’s eyes on Finn with curiosity.

“This my son, Finn. He’s just a little older than you.” You tell him, explaining matters most would think are too advanced for a child of his age, but you always felt children understood far more than we gave them credit for.

Charlie glances back up at you and you greet him with a smile as you reach for him, praying he’ll trust you enough to let you hold him.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief when Charlie reaches for you in return and lets you pick him up. 

Placing him on your hip, you give him a gentle hug.

“Hello sweet boy.” You whisper into his hair as your hand runs down along it.

Charlie reaches for Finn and a smile breaks out wide on your face as Finn takes his hand, the boys enamored with each other.

Your face shoots back up to Mr. Shelby as he clears his throat. 

His eyes are hollow deep pits filled with raw madness that’s barely contained. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. 

Perhaps he hasn’t. You wouldn’t know, you don’t know this man, but you need this job, so you stare back into his eyes as if the sight of them didn’t break your heart.

“Alright then,” He says simply on a low gritty breath, giving his approval as he sparks a cigarette.

“But don’ touch anything in the house. Not a fuckin’ thing.” He practically spits out at you, his words shivering down your spine as you take it, because he isn’t the first man to send a blow your way.

“Mary prepare a room for Miss Fiona and her boy.” Mr. Shelby orders. And just like that, you’ve changed your son’s world.

 Mr. Shelby is cold and distant, and you expect nothing less of a man who’s lost his heart. So you keep your distance and attend to the little one. 

Charlie is easy to care for, easy to love. He’s sweet and joyful, and the boys have taken to each other easily. 

The only hardship is the way he breaks your heart every time he calls for his mum. You wish you knew her. Knew how to bring her to life for him.

The house is bigger than any you’ve ever stayed in, but still Mr. Shelby and his moods manage to find you even inside these many rooms. 

You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Not after the way you heard his family talking about his current state earlier in the morning. 

But still, the way he comes at you, almost as if on attack, as if he needs to bite at something to lick his own wounds, and you’re the nearest one in sight, takes even you by surprise.

You’re preparing a picnic for the children since the sun has decided to come out from its hiding place, when Mr. Shelby thinks it’s time to a have a word.

“I asked around about yeah…” He starts as he appears suddenly, standing across from you in the white tiled kitchen. 

You’re unsure if his interlude is supposed to stir a response, but you pay it no mind, barely glancing over his way as you await him to continue.

“Thought I hired a good catholic widow.” He says, his words low and full of innuendo as he pulls at a cigarette on his lips.

Your hands settle from the basket you’re tending to and offer him the undivided attention he seems insistent on having.

“I am a good catholic.” You tell him, looking him square in the eye, unflinching, because you’ve heard worse, from worse and you decided long ago others weren’t going to define you.

“Aye, a good fucking catholic girl who got herself pregnant outside of marriage.” He says, with that unflinching stare you can sense has a way of riling people up.

And it’s good, he’s good at pushing all the right buttons, because the indignant way he speaks to you easily serves its purpose and instantly you’re defensive of his claim.

“He loved me.” You defiantly tell him and anyone else who will listen. 

How dare he take the moral high ground. He may have friends, and those with loose lips who are quick to pass judgement upon you, but you’re no fool to Mr. Shelby’s doings either. 

You know about the Peak Blinders, everyone in these parts does. How dare he think he has a leg to stand on talking to you about morality.

“That why he ran off to the war stead of makin’ an honest woman of you?” He carries on, undiminished by the fire on your tongue. 

And you know you should shut up, leave it be. This man has given you a job, given you and your child room and board, food in your bellies, living in a place far more grand than any you ever could have imagined. But even now, all these years later, you can’t rest when others presume to know how your son came to be a bastard, as they are so quick to call him to your face and behind your back.

“He didn’t know about the baby and when I sent word, he gave me his. Even from the pits of hell over there he promised we’d marry once he came home, but he never made it back. Swallowed up like the rest of ‘em to slaughter.” Tears biting at your eyes as you push them down and tighten your jaw.

“So you Mr. Shelby, you and all the others, you know nothing of it. Not a thing.” You unleash upon him. 

You know the sins you committed. Know the price you and your son will pay for the rest of your lives, but you weren’t some foolish girl who got taken for a ride. And you’re tired of the world pretending as if you were.

Mr. Shelby’s goes silent with your confession, his face expressionless, but his eyes hold upon you, steady with you. 

You get the sense you’ve taken him by surprise. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a fervent response, maybe he didn’t think you had fire in your belly, or maybe what Polly had told you was true, he knows a little something about the prices of war. 

Whatever the reason, Mr. Shelby doesn’t speak again and as your burners cool, you begin to feel the need to backtrack before you ruin a good thing for your son.

“I apologize Mr. Shelby. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” You say formally, cordially, albeit forced, before you scoop up the biscuits and jam, placing them into the open basket resting on the butcher block before you.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking the children for a picnic while the weather still permits.” You say softly before making a hasty escape.

You’re nearly free, basket in hand, eyes staying steady down around your hands as you try to slip past him, but his arm drops down, blocking your passage, and you’re forced to look up at him, awaiting his word.

In your short time there you’ve learned Mr. Shelby has a way of taking up space, filling even the largest of rooms when he stands in them. 

You find Mr. Shelby’s gaze waiting for you, and you brace yourself for the repercussion of your quick temper, but they never come.

“I didn’t…” He starts, his words stalling as he pulls at the cigarette on his lips.

You can feel he’s struggling, fighting with an apology of some sort. So you set him free.

“No need. You’re entitled to your opinions, Mr. Shelby. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my son. Given me a job in all.” You say, the blue of his eyes holding you captive. 

The depth of them like a pit that could swallow you up if you stand too close to its edge.

“Charlie likes you.” He notes on a long breath, his words easing the tension thick between you.

“And I adore him.” You say simply.

Your answer pleases him and seems to diffuse the moment as he offers you a quick nod and lets you pass.

Late Night Brilliance

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Summary: Barba shows up at your house unexpectedly one evening to go over a case. What began as an honest need to work through some inconsistencies, turned into a battle to maintain professionalism and composure.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M receiving), mentions of F receiving oral, fingering, light dom/sub vibes (Rafi is totally a dom).

A/N: Spanish Translations:

Querida/Cariño/Nena: Terms of endearment (darling/sweetheart/baby)

Meirda: shit

Por favor: please

The rest will be in brackets and italics after the sentence.

You were in the middle of eating your Chinese takeout when you were disturbed by a knock at your door. You weren't expecting any company and had been taking full advantage of a quiet Friday night in.

You sighed quietly as you pulled yourself off the sofa and went to answer the door. A shiver of surprise ran down your spine as you peered through the peephole. You groaned inwardly, glancing down at your rather disheveled appearance. You'd thrown on an old baggy t-shirt and leggings when you'd gotten home from work, but one look at the man standing on the other side of your door filled you with regret.

You pushed down any feelings of dread--and butterflies--as you opened the door and greeted your visitor with a warm smile. "Rafael Barba. What brings you by at 6:30pm on a Friday?"

Your tone was light and teasing, despite the unease you felt internally. He gave you his signature half-smirk, eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe, making you feel even more self-conscious.

He was wearing a beautiful three piece navy pinstripe suit with a lovely pink tie. You had no doubt he had matching suspenders under that damn vest...you hated how good he looked even after a long day of work.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said in a tone that indicated he knew damn well he wasn't interrupting anything. "I was hoping to talk to you about the Milligan case."

"Nothing better to do on a Friday night, Counselor?"

He chuckled. "My options were to spend the evening in my office, at home alone, or come spend it with a beautiful woman. I chose the latter."

You were more than a little surprised by his words, though you did your best not to show it. The two of you were known to flirt occasionally, but neither had dared to cross the line. A relationship between the two of you was out of the question, not that he was even interested in pursuing one with you. After all, he was married to his work and you were quite far from his type...you'd seen Yelina.

"Lucky for you, I also have no life outside of my job," you teased. "Come on in and make yourself at home. I've got Chinese food if you're hungry and I just opened a bottle of Merlot."

Rafael followed you in, shedding his suit jacket and draping it across the back of a dining chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his white button down and you felt a stirring in your abdomen. "Chinese sounds amazing, but I can't say I'm a fan of Merlot."

It took you a moment to register the words he'd spoken as you were too preoccupied with not revealing how incredibly sexy you thought he looked in that moment. "I, uh--I think I have some bourbon if you're interested."

You practically bolted to the kitchen to look in the cabinet where you kept the liquor. You desperately needed to be as far away from him as possible before your face gave away the thoughts in your head.

"Bourbon sounds good."

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, locating the half-empty bottle at the back of the shelf. "Two fingers or three?"

"Three," he answered, voice much closer than it had been moments before.

You turned around to see Rafael leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled into your head at the sight and you let out an audible sound you hoped could be interpreted as surprise.

You poured the drink in silence, before handing it to him and gesturing for him to follow you to the living room. "We can eat at the table if you prefer..." you trailed off.

"Not necessary. The couch looks perfectly comfortable."

He sat down on one end of the couch and you sat on the other, as far away as you could possibly get without sitting on the arm. He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn't comment on the awkward distance you'd managed to put between you.

"So you--um--you wanted to talk about Milligan?" you asked.

"Not exactly. I wanted to talk about the victim, Shelly."

"What about her?"

"Something about her story isn't sitting right with me."

"Okay..."

"I want you to go over it with me again. Maybe give me a fresh set of eyes and a different perspective?"

"I'm not sure how much help I can be, Barba. I was in the room when she disclosed--that's not exactly a fresh set of eyes."

"Perhaps, but you are a psychologist. You see things very differently from the rest of us."

You sighed. "Alright, I'll bite. Where do you wanna start?"

As the two of you began to discuss the case and the inconsistencies in the victim's story, your discomfort started to evaporate. This is what you were passionate about--what you were best at. Everything else simply faded away and Rafael became just a colleague, not a man you were hopelessly romantically interested in.

Two hours passed, but it felt like no time at all. Your coffee table was littered with files and papers, and both you and Rafael were leaning over it, examining pieces of evidence. He was mere inches from you, but you were so absorbed in what you were doing that you hardly noticed.

"Cariño, can you pass me that witness statement?" Rafael asked.

You grabbed the paper he was referring to and handed it to him, eyes still scanning the page in front of you. The term of endearment didn't even register in your mind, nor did he seem to realize he'd even said it aloud.

After a few moments, Rafael asked you another question. "Do you have the surveillance photos from the bar?"

You pushed a few folders out of the way, digging the file with the photos out from the bottom of the stack. "What are you looking for?"

"Her outfit."

"Why?"

He didn't answer as he flipped through the photos, finally landing on the one he had been looking for. "Look at this."

He handed you the photo, which you'd seen before. "Yeah that's Shelly leaving the bar before the assault."

"Right. Notice her outfit?"

You glanced at the photo again. "Typical night out attire. Why is this important?"

He handed you the statement he'd been reading earlier. "She came directly to the precinct after her assault to disclose, right? Nowhere in her initial statement does she say she ever changed clothes."

You'd been there the night in question, had sat beside Olivia as she took Shelly's statement. "She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt," you stated.

"So why didn't she tell us she went home first?"

"She might have been worried we would judge her or blame her for the assault because she wasn't dressed like a nun."

"Yeah, I suppose that's possible."

He looked a little crestfallen, like you'd rained on his parade. He knew in his gut Shelly wasn't telling the whole story, but he couldn't prove it. He needed a single thread...just one thread to pull on. He needed to know now before the trial began and the defense unraveled the entire case.

A thought dawned on you. "No semen, no body fluids," you mumbled as you searched the coffee table for the rape kit report from the hospital.

Rafael watched you, unsure of what you were thinking.

"Ahh!" You grabbed the report and flipped through it. "There was evidence of trauma to her vagina and several bruises on her body, but there were zero traces of any DNA that wasn't hers."

"Okay, but that's not uncommon."

"Perhaps if she'd waited to report, I would agree, but I think there's an alternative reason."

He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to continue.

"She went home and showered."

Realization dawned on his face. "Didn't you or Olivia ask that question?"

"Of course we did, but I think she was scared to tell us, scared of what we'd say."

"We need to reinterview her."

You nodded.

Rafael pulled out his phone and called Olivia. He relayed what you'd discovered and asked her to reinterview Shelly the following day. Olivia agreed and thanked him for letting her know.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said as he hung up, vivid green eyes locked on your face.

"Minor detective work, at best," you said with a shrug. "I've been doing this long enough that I should be able to put pieces of a puzzle together. Besides, as you rightfully mentioned, it's my job to study and understand human behavior."

He smiled. "Even still, it was good work."

"You found the pieces, I just put them together."

"Take the compliment, (Y/N). You know I give them so rarely."

You laughed. "Alright, alright. Thank you, Rafael."

His expression shifted slightly, gaze darkening as he looked at you. "I don't think you've ever called me by my first name before." Even his voice was lower, huskier.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. "I--uh, I'm sorry."

He reached out and grabbed your hand. "Please don't apologize. I liked hearing it...very much."

Heat began to spread through your entire body, coloring more than just your cheeks. You were unsure how to respond--the unfamiliar territory both daunting and exciting.

Rafael mistook your silence for discomfort, immediately removing his hand from yours and looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Everything in you wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him that his words--and his touch--were welcome, but you knew that would be crossing a line you couldn't uncross.

"No worries," you mumbled.

The awkward silence stretched on for a few moments, during which time you were silently kicking yourself for making things weird.

"Well, umm, thank you for your help tonight. I-I guess I should be going," Rafael muttered lowly.

He started to get up and gather the papers strewn about the coffee table. You knew you should help him, but you didn't move--frozen in place with indecision. He couldn't see the war raging inside you, couldn't hear the thoughts screaming in your head.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally forced out two words, "Don't go."

Rafael paused, holding a few papers in one hand and a folder in the other. "Pardon?"

You swallowed thickly, rising to your feet. "Please stay."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "It's getting late," he said softly. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

You nodded.

He slowly set the papers back down and came to the other side of the coffee table, positioning himself directly in front of you. He reached out, tentatively placing his warm palm against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"I need to hear you say it, querida," he murmured.

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes met his, a surge of confidence making your words clearer. "I want you to stay, Rafael."

His lips parted slightly, partially in surprise and partially in arousal. He stepped closer to you, closing the gap between you. His lips ghosted over yours before finally pressing gently against them, pulling you into a soft kiss.

You wanted nothing more than to lean into his kiss, to feel his hands on your body--you wanted to know what it was like to be worshipped by him, to make love to him.

But the rational part of your brain--the part that kept you on the straight and narrow your entire life--had managed to rear its ugly head. You couldn't drown out the voice in your head screaming at you that this was wrong--that you couldn't do this with him...he was your coworker, for god's sake.

You suddenly pulled away from him, voice coming out in a rushed whisper, "We can't."

While he was disheartened at the sound of your words, he wasn't really surprised. It wasn't forbidden--technically--but that didn't make it easy, or even right. "I won't force you, cariño."

His soft, comforting words made you want him even more. You sighed quietly and leaned your forehead against his. "We shouldn't," you whispered so softly he almost missed it.

His hands had settled on your hips and he began to rub soothing circles into your sides. "Can't or shouldn't?" he asked lowly.

Your trembling hand pressed firmly against his chest in a way that made him feel like you were pulling him closer, not pushing him away. "Please," you begged softly, neither of you sure of exactly what you were asking for.

Rafael's left hand slid lower on your hip, the tips of his long fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your bottom. His right hand pulled you closer to him, holding you flush against his body. "Tell me you don't want me--don't want this," he pleaded, voice husky with desire.

Your lips trembled against his mouth, body responding to his like it was made for him. "I can't..."

His left hand moved to grab you more fully, eliciting a soft moan of need from your lips. "Querida...tell me to stop."

"Please don't stop," you whimpered. "I need you--por favor, Rafi."

"Mierda," he growled, pulling you somehow even closer to him. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger you couldn't describe--a hunger you returned in kind.

The next several moments were a flurry of hands all but tearing at each other's clothes, desperate to feel skin to skin contact. In what had to be a record pace, the two of you found yourselves standing in nothing but underwear in the middle of your living room.

Rafael grabbed you tightly and tugged you down with him as he fell into a sitting position on the couch. You straddled his strong thighs, lips still hungrily devouring his.

He groaned lowly as your pelvis ground against his erection, the intense need for friction almost painful. His soft hands ghosted up your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease.

You pulled away from him just long enough to send your bra flying across the room. Rafael licked his lips in anticipation before leaning forward to capture your nipple between his soft lips.

You sighed softly, fingers twining through his hair in order to hold him tightly against you. He used one hand to massage your other breast before switching to ensure both received equal treatment.

"Rafi," you whimpered as the need to feel him inside of you continued to grow.

"Si, hermosa?" he murmured.

You ground down against his erection again, silently telling him what you needed.

His hands immediately went to your hips, halting your movements. "I need you to tell me what you want, querida."

"You," you begged.

He smirked. "Puedes hacerlo mejor. Usa tus palabras." [You can do better. Use your words.]

If you were being honest with yourself, your Spanish was not nearly as good as it had been when you were younger...after all, you hadn't really spoken much Spanish since high school. Working with Nick Amaro, and now Rafael, had forced you to revisit your knowledge of the language in an attempt to brush up. Thankfully, you understood a hell of a lot more than you spoke, so you were able to piece together what he was telling you to do.

"I want you, Rafael, please."

"I'm right here, hermosa."

You glared at him, which earned you a patented smirk in response.

"Si quieres algo solo tienes que preguntar," he murmured softly. [If you want something, you just have to ask.]

You bit your lip. You weren't a shy person, but you had never been very vocal during sex in the past. Your partners didn't often ask you what you actually wanted, so you weren't even sure how to respond to him.

"I want you to touch me."

"Donde?" [Where?]

You realized he wasn't going to let you get away with not being explicit, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to say the words out loud. Instead, you grabbed his right hand and guided it between your legs, placing it firmly against your extremely damp panties. "Here."

Rafael smiled wolfishly. "Now was that so hard?" His voice was teasing, but there was a heat in his eyes that betrayed exactly how turned on he was.

He didn't give you a chance to respond as he pulled your underwear aside and slipped his fingers between your dripping folds. You gasped softly, hands gripping onto his shoulders for support.

"Is this what you needed, cariño?" His fingers gently toyed with your clit, providing some stimulation, but not exactly what you needed.

"More, Rafi, por favor," you begged.

In response, Rafael slipped two fingers inside of you, twisting his hand to form a come hither motion as he sought your sweet spot. His thumb provided the pressure against your clit that you so desperately needed and you moaned loudly as his fingers found your g-spot.

"There we go, nena. Te tengo." [I've got you.]

You clung to his shoulders as his expert fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge. You were almost surprised by the ease with which you felt your orgasm approaching--you couldn't remember the last time you'd cum from nothing more than a man's hands.

Rafael slid a third finger inside of you and began to add more pressure to his movements on your clit. The stimulation was exactly what you needed and you knew your orgasm was close. You were hesitant to tell him, but you also didn't want him to stop. "Rafi, I'm so close--please don't stop."

"I won't," he murmured, changing nothing about his current movements. "Quiero sentirte venir." [I want to feel you come.]

Your breathing was labored and your legs had begun to shake--a surefire sign of your impending orgasm. He could feel your walls squeezing his fingers and he couldn't wait to feel the sensation around his cock.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as your orgasm rushed over you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Rafael slowed his motions, but didn't stop until you began to whimper and squirm away from him.

He pulled his fingers out of you and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of enjoyment. "Tastes so good, nena. Can't wait to taste you properly."

Your eyes widened slightly, having found the action extremely arousing. Your gaze then traveled down his body, landing on his still clothed cock. Your eyes flicked back up to his, your expression practically begging him to fuck you properly.

"Hay algo que quieras?" [Is there something you want?] he asked with a smile.

"I'd really like you to lose the boxers."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, enjoying your demanding tone more than he'd expected. "Stand up for me, querida."

You did as he asked, albeit slowly.

He lifted his hips and slowly tugged his boxers down, finally freeing his painfully hard cock. Your eyes widened slightly, gaze appreciative of his member. He was both thick and long, and the head was leaking enough precum to give you the strong urge to taste it.

Your eyes never left his cock as you tugged your own panties off, wanting to be just as deliciously naked as he was. You started to drop to your knees, but Rafael reached out and grabbed your arm.

"What are you doing, nena?"

"I wanna taste you," you answered softly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, swearing softly in Spanish under his breath. "As much as I would love to feel your pretty little mouth on my cock, I don't think I can take it."

You felt incredibly disappointed and your expression must have shown it because his gaze took on a slightly pitying look.

"Just a taste?" you pleaded.

He couldn't deny he wanted it as badly as you did--probably more so, but what really pushed him over the edge was the sound of your soft voice begging him. He didn't wanna say no to you--ever.

He released your arm with a soft sigh. "Está bien--just a taste." [Alright.]

You grinned, feeling pleased at having won. You dropped to your knees and gripped his cock in your warm hand, gently stroking him before leaning forward to lick the precum from the tip. Rafael groaned at the feeling, followed by a string of Spanish curses as you took his cock in your mouth.

The sensations you were providing him had him making more noise than you'd ever imagined. His fingers fisted into your hair and his hips jerked as you pleasured him--a feeling of pride settling into you as you listened to his moans. You felt powerful, having made the great Rafael Barba turn to putty in your hands.

His grip in your hair tightened and he pulled you off his cock much sooner than you would have liked--a groan of displeasure leaving your lips in protest.

"Get up here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was the same tone he used in court when he was tearing someone apart on the stand.

You immediately did as he asked, once again straddling his thighs, but this time, you awaited further instructions. Everything about his demeanor oozed dominance and you were more than happy to slip into a submissive role for him.

He gripped his cock and slid the head between your folds, sending sharp bolts of pleasure through both of you.

"Dime que me quieres," he demanded. [Tell me you want me.]

"I want you, Rafael," you answered instantly.

He smiled at your clear willingness to obey. "Dime que me necesitas." [Tell me you need me.]

"I need you."

He leaned forward so his lips were inches from your ear. "Vas a gritar mi nombre?" [Are you gonna scream my name?]

"Si, Rafi! Please!" you begged. "Te necesito dentro de mi." [I need you inside of me.]

He rolled his hips up slightly, pushing the head of his cock into you. He held you tightly in place, not allowing you to move lower.

"More, please!" you cried, desperately trying to lower yourself onto him fully.

"Rogar por esto, nena. Dejame escucharte." [Beg for it, baby. Let me hear you.]

"Please, Rafi, please," you pleaded. "I'll do anything--please. Please just fuck me!"

His grip on your hips lessened just as he rolled his hips upwards, allowing him to plunge into you as you pressed yourself down on him. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you, but pain quickly turned to pleasure as he began to move.

"You feel so good, querida. So tight and warm--made for me, weren't you?" Rafael murmured into your skin as he slowly rolled his hips.

You whimpered slightly, the slow pace not enough to soothe the burning ache within you.

He noticed the way you shifted, clearly seeking more friction, so he loosened his grip on you, allowing you more freedom. You gripped onto his shoulders, using them as additional leverage as you began to ride him properly.

Salacious sounds filled the room, a mixture of your bodies joining together and your shared moans and whimpers. Rafael's mouth nipped and sucked at your pulse point, your collarbone, and your lips--anything he could reach.

The position was enjoyable, but Rafael sensed you needed more--and he felt the need to take over. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he stood, flipping you onto your back on the couch.

You gasped in surprise, delighted at the change in position. Rafael immediately took charge, bending your legs towards your chest and thrusting into you hard and fast.

"I need to feel you cum, hermosa. Dime que necesitas." [Tell me what you need.]

You were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, and your brain was struggling to make sense of the words he was saying. It took you a moment to understand, but even then you couldn't find the words. Instead, you slipped your hand between your bodies and began to rub your clit.

Rafael pushed your hand out of the way, replacing it with his own. He'd be damned if he wasn't the one who made you fall apart. "Vendrás por mi?" [You gonna come for me?]

"Rafi!" you cried out--the only coherent thing you'd said in minutes.

Your pussy clenched down on his cock, squeezing him so tightly he nearly came on the spot. He continued to fuck you exactly as he had been, fingers still pulsing against your clit.

Moments later, you came with a loud cry of his name, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing down on you as he rode you through the orgasm.

He removed his hand from your clit, using it instead to grip the back of the sofa, his other hand supporting his weight on the arm. He chased his own high, finding it a few seconds after you. He groaned your name as his hot seed filled you up, hips still pumping for a few moments before he collapsed on top of you.

You wrapped your arms around him as he came down, aftershocks wracking both of your bodies.

Once you'd both caught your breath, Rafael lifted his head to look at you. He smiled as he took in your fucked out appearance--evidence of your enjoyment written all over your face.

"You're so beautiful, querida," he murmured.

You blushed. "So are you."

He chuckled. "I'm not quite sure a man wants to hear that he's beautiful."

"Eres muy guapo, papi," you said with a grin.

His eyes darkened slightly. "That's much better."

He pulled himself up so he could kiss you properly. When he deepened the kiss, you found yourself heating up--the desire once again building in your core.

"How 'bout I take you to bed and properly worship you, cariño? Would you like that?"

Your eyes widened. "You don't have to..."

"I know, but I want to. I wanna taste that pretty pussy properly before I fuck you again."

You grinned a little, enjoying the twinkling in his eye as he looked at you. "Second door on the left," you stated, pointing down the hall.

"Perfecto," he murmured as he stood up. He leaned down and scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you towards the bedroom.

"Rafi!" you yelled in surprise, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

He tossed you onto your bed and crawled on top of you to kiss you deeply. "Now, if it pleases the court, I'd like to spend the next 15 minutes with my head between these sexy thighs."

Your cheeks blushed as you chuckled lightly. "It pleases the court very much."

He gave you one last grin before lowering himself between your legs and sending you to heaven as many times as your body would let him.

It was super hard to pick just 10!!!

I'm stretched out on your grave- Kate Rusby

I'm a wanted man - Royal Deluxe

Wonderful Life - Smith and Burrows

What he wrote - Laura Marling

Do I want know - Arctic Monkeys

Is this desire - PJ Harvey

St.James Infirmary Blues - TheWhite Stripes

Nick cave and the bad seeds: ⬇️

Brother, my Cup is Empty

Abattoir Blues

Beat the devil's tattoo ----------------------------------------------------

K, It's the 10th anniversary of Peaky on 12 Sept and I must know, what are the top 10 songs you associate with Peaky Blinders?

Oh Lee @zablife I love this!!! What a beautiful way to blend the 2 things I talk about most on here: music and Peaky! However, it was so hard to pick just 10 - I hope you don’t mind my 2 honorable mentions at the bottom!!

Ok so of course I could have just added 10 songs from the soundtrack that I obviously associate with the show since that’s where I was exposed to them…but I decided to dig a little deeper, look through my playlists, and pick out some songs that make my mind go to the show whenever I listen to them. So without further ado, here’s my 10 (+2) songs — I’ve added links to the songs if you’d like to listen to them:

1. Grandfather Collar by Liam St. John

I just had to include this song because, for me, there’s no better song where every single lyric reminds me of Tommy and his energy.

2. Backbone by KALEO

This one immediately makes me think of the Shelby Brothers in the war — so much so that I just had to make a moodboard based off of it.

3. Brother Run Fast by KALEO

Ok so there’s a few KALEO songs that I can add on here, but I’ll leave it to 2 for the sake of the others haha … this one also has that almost haunting tone to it - definitely makes me think of the brothers.

4. Heavy by The Glorious Sons

The lyrics of the song are pretty self explanatory as to why I’ve associated it with the show. I mean: “it never paid to be merciful” , “I’ll put you down if the group’s what you need” and the opening lyric “come heavy or don’t come at all” are shining examples of why.

5. Heaven Loves A Fire by LAOUD

I like the vibes of this one - they’re rather haunting and I can honestly see it playing over some of the scenes … it also makes me think of Arthur and the struggles he faces throughout the series.

6. Sleeping On the Blacktop by Colter Wall

Another song that’s just got the same vibes as Peaky. A few of Colter Wall’s do — @moral-terpitude wrote an amazing piece with The Devil Wears A Suit and Tie … this one can be another candidate to play over the montages we all love.

7. Work Song by Hozier

I couldn’t make the list without a Hozier song on it … I have a few in my playlist, but I chose this one because of the vibes it gives off. Everyone knows it, everyone loves it - I think it fits the show perfectly.

8. Grim by The Blue Stones

I just found this song/band recently and have been vibing with it. I think a lot of the lyrics match the Shelby Brothers and the whole song has these kind of ‘f-you’ vibes that are prevalent in the series…again, another montage candidate??

9. Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Kinda like Heaven Loves A Fire - the vibes are just haunting and the lyrics are pugnent…I think it could either many of the characters.

10. Song of A Dead Man by Taylor John Williams

This is another song that holds strong Tommy vibes — it’s also just overall haunting in its tone and some of its lyrics.

Honorable Mentions:

1. Dipped In Bleach by Liam St. John

This is another artist whose discography lends well to the show … a lot of the songs he has are gritty and the topics he includes really relate well with Peaky.

2. Makin’ It by Bishop Gunn

This is a bit of a lighter song, but I definitely find myself thinking of the Shelby brothers while listening to it - again, mostly Arthur … the lyric “if hells where I’m heading, then I’m making good time” resonates with all of them, I think.

———

Ahh this was so fun, Lee!! I hope you liked my choices!! Like I said - I can go on and on about music — if you’ve made it down this far, thank you for reading!! I’d love for you to share the songs you associate with Peaky Blinders too…I’m ALWAYS looking for new songs!!

With All Of Me | Part One

For: Anon Characters: Rafael Barba/(Female) Reader Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault/Rape Word Count: 2,059 Notes: So, I got these three prompts all at one time in a row, and they lended themselves to a three-part imagine. So I hope y’all enjoy this short story!  Prompt: Imagine a Barba x Reader where you’ve been assaulted and are too scared to name the assailant because they are of a higher rank. Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“Barba,” the prosecutor answered, his phone balanced precariously between his shoulder and ear as he accepted coffee from the barista behind the cart. He smiled his thanks, carefully adding a small serving of sugar before swirling it twice with the skinny stick and tossing his trash before snapping on the lid.

It was supposed to be an easy day. He didn’t have court, he had one meeting about striking a plea with their most recently indicted criminal, and there was a conference that afternoon on tracking the movements of serial criminals via social media. There was no doubt in his mind that he could even call it an early night. Yet, Benson’s incessant and frantic mumbling on the other end of the line was starting to make him doubt the simplicity of his schedule.

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Polaroid perfect

Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader 🔞

Rick learns the truth about his daughter's relationahip in a very unpleasant way.

A quick in and out, that was all Rick and Daryl had planned for the day.

Rick sat crouched in an abandoned hallway, planning their strategy of going through the section of houses they had selected.

"You brought the list, right?" Rick asked Daryl who was busying himself with the initial walker check.

"S'in ma bag." The archer's voice sounded as he stepped back after declaring the house safe. " ya know, like e'rythin' else cuz ya refused ta bring yers."

Rick only responded with a mumbled repeat of Daryl's words and reached over to grab the dull green canvas bag that sat against the dust covered side table.

He had to take another folded up bag out that laid on top of their supplies. 'Really? We've got bags in the car..' Rick shook his head to himself and fished for the supply lists people had given them, pulling the papers out and scattering them over the floor as a corner caught on the bag's drawstring.

"The hell?"

Rick's voice of surprise had Daryl turn and look his way, freezing the second his eyes landed on the items scattered on the wooden floor.

Both men were silent as they stares from one photo to the next.

A simple photo of you smiling, with Daryl kissing your cheek.

"Oh, look! It has a tiny mirror thingie! Can we try to take a photo together, please?" With an eye roll and a huffed laugh Daryl complied and sat down next to you for a photo. "Dunno why yer willin' ta waste film on a guy like me." He mumbled against your skin as you raised the camera to position it right.

Just as you pressed the button to snap the photo, Daryl pressed his lips to your cheek.

Next to it a less innocent one, of your chest. Rick easily recognized it with how your hair was visible and the scar on your shoulder he tended to when it was a fresh wound. Daryl's tattooed hand was covering one of them, a gauze patch peeking up from underneath his hand.

"Tha' wasn't so bad now was it?" Daryl kissed your cheek as he readied a gauze to place over the freshly cut lines in your skin. You winced as you moved, but shook your head. "It was okay I guess.."

After Daryl had applied the gauze you slumped down on your back, arms crossed around your chest. It was a sight to see, according to Daryl, who had placed his hand over your gauze covered skin and snapped a photo.

As Rick scanned the images one by one, Daryl stood frozen with his eyes on just one of the frames.

Your lower half, marked in bruises and fresh bitemarks. Legs spread around scarred hips and a cock buried to the hilt inside of you. On your thigh a small fresh cut heart still bled.

Sighs and pants filled the air in the small, dusty room you were holed up. "Shit, yer gonna be the end'a me one day.." Daryl's gruff voice was barely above a whisper, thrusting into you and staring at where you teo connected. It looked like he was in a trance, until your voice pulled him back. "Why don't you take a pic? For when you're on the road."

There were more, some laying faced down but it was clear the whole collection had the same theme.

"Daryl.." Rick didn't bring his eyes up to meet the hunter. Instead they were focused on the most explicit photo that was in his view. He had no interest in seeing what Daryl packed below the belt. And even less in seeing it inside of his daughter.

A hand slammed down on the printed paper, a loud smack sounded through the hallway.

"You're sleeping with my daughter?" In his eyes a dark stare, his hand still spread over a photo. Daryl knew exactly what photo.

Daryl nodded his head. "..yeah. She asked me. Asked 'er ta keep quiet, dun wanted folk talkin' bout shit tha had nothin' ta do with 'em." Daryl paced the two half steps between the walls of the hallway, chewing his thumb til he broke the skin.

With a sigh Rick picked up the photo his palm rested on.

"This?" His palm covered the worst of the image, his other hand pointed at the bleeding heart. "And m'not even going to mention the obvious, is in no way acceptable."

Daryl struggled to find his footing, nervously staring anywhere but at his brother who looked dead at him.

"I swear, I.." He stumbled over his words, unsure which ones would anger Rick the least. "She was fine with it. Ne'er did anythin' she didn' want."

There was a moment of silence between the two men. The only sound heard was the shuffling of pictures being gathered and stacked.

"We're going to drop this and finish this run." Rick stuffed the photos back all the way at the bottom of the bag.

"You, me and her. Tonight over dinner." With the bag on his hand he walked over to Daryl and shoved it against his chest. "First we do what we came here for."

And the run went well. They found the needed items, along with some requested things as well. Their haul was better than expected, but the two men still shared no words besides the needed ones for the job.

The drive back to the community was silent and getting all the items to their destinations was done in seperate ways.

There was no way the two men could look each other in the eyes right now. Rick went home and hoped to not find you until dinner, too afraid he might snap, unable to hold back all that he was feeling at this moment. His mind was reeling the second he sat down, making him jump up from the chair and pace around.

Dinner. He was going to focus on dinner.

With that in mind he set off to the pantry, going through all the recipes he knew, deciding on a meal with the ingredients he found.

A couple of houses down, Daryl needed a nap. He laid down on his couch but sleep wouldn't take him, his mind wandering off to all possible bad outcomes of tonight's dinner. He as well couldn't lay still, tossing and turning until he sat back up in frustration and hauled himself up the stairs and into the shower. He focused on cleaning himself up, scrubbing off the thoughts of a ruined friendship and rinsing away the fear of banishment.

Rick stood in the kitchen, thanking whoever listened for the fact that his family was busy and not available to question his clearly frazzled mind as he busied himself chopping down the greens he picked and cutting the few potatoes he was given in thin slices.

With care Daryl sifted through his clothes, trying to find any that didn't scream 'dirty redneck' at him from where they sat in the drawers. He dug past checkered flanels with torn sleeves, black buttown downsthat were once nice clothing items but now were nothing more than once expensive fabrics with holes in them.

Rick sighed as the warm water his his skin as he cleaned the cutting board. Pans with the greens and potatoes sat ready on the stovetop, and the meat sat prepped in the fridge. He was content with his work, looking around the kitchen as he dried the used items and placed them back in their respective cabinets.

Daryl's hands found plastic at the back of the drawer, pulling at it to reveal the bag Carol had gifted him, an outfit she brought back from a run with the Kingdom.

He stared at the thick, fancy patterned fabric. Shining threaded flowing patterns over a dull black fabric. The sleeves were long, with a small button and clasp to keep them rolled up. Along with the nice button up were sleek black pants that fit him perfectly.

Back in the kitchen Rick stood at the stove, finally having changed out of his gear and into home clothes. Now that he had a full kitchen and ingredients available again he enjoyed cooking, and even though Michonne and Carl weren't joining tonight he still put effort into it.

He had just put the meat in the pan when you came home, quickly questioning him about the food.

"Just go change and get back, dinner's almost ready." You watched your dad wavee his spatula in the direction of the stairs and for a second you wondered if he had found someone's stash and Daryl had comvinced him to smoke some as well before you did as he asked and went to change out of your dirty work clothes.

Before he left Daryl gave himself one last look in the large mirror that hung by the front door. He looked nice, he heard Carol's voice in his head as he looked ar how the few strands of shorter hair fell around his face while the rest was held together in a low ponytail.

By the time you came back downstairs your dad had set the table and was moving pans onto their coasters.

Wait.

Why was the table set for three? No one else was home for dinner tonight.

Rounding the corner the kitchen came into view and your stomach fluttered but you were unsure about what caused it.

Was it the butterflies that came with Daryl standing in your kitchen, seemingly filling three glasses with water in what looked like clean, fancy clothes? Or was it the anxiety moths that made thoughts of why he was here dressed up nicely in the first place?

"Looks good, dad." You mused as you walked past him to the sink.

"Let me take one." Next to Daryl you took one glass and the full pitcher, mouthing a subtle 'what the fuck?' at him, getting an eyeroll and a nod towards Rick.

"No need to fake the niceness, hon. I saw your little private photo collection."

You felt the glare at the back of your head and your body froze, hands stuck on the glasswares, unmoving.

Daryl murmured a soft apology before he moved to set the glasses on the table, coming back to take your items as well.

"C'mon, let's sit down 'n eat." With careful hands he maneuvered you to your seat at the table, where you had not dared to look anywhere outside of the scratched white of the plate in front of you.

The sound of spoons hitting pans and cutlery scraping plates all muddled as the panic rung in your ears.

You had kept part of your life secret with the utmost care, never a single moment of worry yet and nkw here the two most important men in your life sat, and ate in peace.

"Sweetheart, you should eat." Your father reached a hand across the table to take yours in comfort.

How were they so calm under all of this?

"I won't scream, or yell. I just need you to eat." With his hand withdrawn from yours he tilted the pan of potatoes for you to scoop some onto your plate.

The atmosphere at the table slowly settled as you all ate, but the more empty your plates became, the closer the dreaded topic came.

With pans and plates empty, Rick's voice cleared the awkward silence.

"So, how long?" He glanced between you and Daryl, seeing who'd answer first.

"After the prison fell." At Daryl's quick response you perked up. You listened how he recollected the events of your time spent separated between the fall of the prison and reuniting after that unfortunate meeting with the Claimers.

"Oooh look at this! Do you need some help, pretty lady?" The door to the storage unit you hoped up in got toen open to reveal a group of men, old and clearly mad in their doings.

"Claimed."

A voice you recognised sounded from the back of the group.

Daryl.

He went on to share how laying claim on you kept the men away from you and how he thought after reuniting it'd be done and over, but the oposite proved itself fairly quick.

"You know you didn't have to do all that, right? I mean, I know it was all to keep up the act, but I also know you don't like getting close like that." You and Daryl walked along the tree line, carefully eyeing a boar in the distance. "Hmhm, s'alright. Was nice, really." He dropped the subject immediately after and decided to focus on teaching you to hunt properly.

With focus and precision you took the shot, hitting the animal and joining Daryl to go see. "Great shot."

Upon seeng the animal lay lifeless on the forest floor you jumped into Daryl's arms with glee, quickly pulling back upon realizing your mistake.

Daryl's mind raced those few seconds, screaming at himself to make it happen now or never and his body moved out of its own.

His hands had remained on your hips and pulled you back in, ever so carefully nuzzling your cheek and making his way to press his lips against yours.

It was clear in Daryl's wording he wasn't having fun sharing the stories, but the glances he couldn't keep from happening told Rick more than Daryl's words.

"Ya gotta know, I care fer 'er. Really do." There were no truer words, nothing he could make it more clear he never had any ill intentions with you.

So now Rick stared at you, a look in his eyes that told you he was waiting for you to speak.

His look did nothing but frustrate you. "Really? You really think I'd sleep with just anybody just because the world went to shit?" Daryl could do nothing but smile behind his glass of water as you glared at your father. It was all true and he knew it firsthand.

"Reminds me of when ya smacked tha' Woodbury guy cuz he assumed ya were an easy fix." You sputtered out a laugh at the memory. "I don't even know how he thought that would work.."

"Hell, ya even turned me down lord knows how many times 'fore we found 'im again." Daryl nudged at Rick, recollecting the time you spent together with the Claimers.

His comment had you shy away again a little, still not comfortable to discuss any of that with your father in the room.

"Look." Rick interrupted the silence that had fallen again. "I'm not entirely agreeing with this, but at least I know Daryl's able to take care of you."

A stern finger pointed between the two of you next. "I just don't want to see any of it. Understood?"

You looked at Daryl and then at Rick. "So, that means you're okay with it?" The blessing turned the moths from before back into fluttering butterflies that spilled the words right past your lips, not even time for your brain to filter them.

"I promise it's not just what you saw in the photos, there's so much care and love, too. He even taught me how to hunt so I'll have food if we ever got separated." There was excitement in your voice, happiness even. It sang through the room as you rambled on about the feelings shared between you and the hunter.

"Think yer dad's heard 'nough fer today." There was a smile on Daryl's face as he could feel the unease radiate from his dearest friend. "M'headin' home. Ya get sum rest an' we'll talk t'morrow, yeah?"

As Daryl retreated you moved to go wash the dishes in silence, only the sound of running water and clanking plates to be heard. You didn't even notice the scrape of the chair across the floor, or the shadow cast beside you as your father joined you at the counter to dry what you washed.

"You know what?" His voice spoke suddenly beside you, pulling you away from your task."I'm glad it's Daryl you picked to be your partner."

A/N: Lords this took way too long. I hope it's any good 🙏🙏