elliott-calls

Elliott

“Don’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm. But, be a fucking ray of sunshine☀️”

371 posts

Just A Little Longer

Just a Little Longer

A/N: Another Peaky Blinders fic with the reader as the youngest Shelby! This one, like the other, is probably set around season 4! Please enjoy!

(There are quite a few curse words, but what do you expect from a Peaky Blinders fic?) XD

Title: Just a Little Longer

Summary: A man comes to the house asking for your hand in marriage. Tommy’s not pleased.

Words: 3225

“Arthur’s called for a family meeting.” Thomas Shelby looked up from where he was seated next to you at a desk, the two of you bent over some papers, as Finn walked into the room. Immediately, he set about discreetly analysing his brother’s face, searching for any obvious sign that what Arthur wanted to discuss at this meeting was serious. The boy looked a little flustered, but apart from that he seemed fine.

“Right.” Tommy stood to his feet and you moved to follow him until Finn shook his head and gave his brother a knowing look.

“Minus the baby,” he said quietly, and Tommy rose both brows, glancing over at you just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. There weren’t many family meetings the boys had that they deemed unsuitable for you to hear - they’d been involving you in a lot more business-related work recently - and so knowing this was one of those moments set a curious glint in his eye.

“You know, I’m only one year younger than you, Finn. I’m not a baby,” you said. Nevertheless, you huffed and reluctantly plopped yourself back down onto your seat. Both your brothers smiled at your plight, clearly believing that your crossed arms, pouted lips and slumped form did nothing to aid in moving your insistent statement along the right path.

“Stay here,” Tommy told you as he moved around the desk, “and see if you can work out any more of those numbers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He fell into step with his younger brother, the two of them pacing down the hallway towards the family room. “What’re you teaching her?” Finn asked a moment later, referring to the numbers he’d heard him tell you about.

Tommy adjusted his cap. “Nothing much, just simple adding up wages and such. I want her to get more involved in what we’re doing – I’d hate for us to have another Ada on our hands where she goes off with some man and leaves the business entirely to us.” He sighed deeply. “Anyway, what’s this Arthur wants to talk about?”

“Oh, Arthur’s already talked about it. He just wants your opinion on the matter, s’all,” Finn said, an odd mix of both amusement and anger in his voice. Tommy glanced down and his sharp eyes caught sight of his brother’s clenched fists. He stopped in his tracks.

“What do you mean Arthur’s already talked about it? I thought this was a family meeting; discussions don’t start until everyone’s there.” He stared at the younger Shelby, frustration getting clearer in his voice. The two of them were standing a few feet away from the door to the family room, and though there were no clear voices emanating from behind the door, the atmosphere surrounding it seemed to be seriously intense. Finn sighed and looked at the door for a moment before turning back around and stepping a little closer to his brother.

“Look, Tommy,” he said quietly, “I’m gonna tell you this now because I know how you are with these kinda things and I think you need to be somewhat prepared.”

Tommy rose an eyebrow in expectation, mind whirring with thousands of possibilities. “Spit it out, then.”

Finn swallowed. Hard. “A man knocked on the door a few minutes ago. We thought it was for business, but when he came in, he said he was here for something else.”

“What do you mean? Get to the fucking point, Finn.”

Finn honestly wished Arthur had sent someone else to get their brother, but, as always, he seemed to be the message boy of the family. The look currently on his older brother’s face was definitely not something to be trifled with, and he hated being on the receiving end of it, so quickly set about explaining. “He wants to marry Y/N. He came to our door asking to marry our sister, Tommy, and, as expected, Arthur lost his temper. Surprised the man’s not run off, yet.”

Tommy blinked, completely perplexed. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throw himself into some pit of rage, and so he simply settled with nothing at all. Placing a hand on Finn’s shoulder, he turned, straightened his jacket and walked through the door.

The first thing he looked for was the new face in the room. His blue eyes found it almost immediately. It belonged to a fairly tall chap, probably only a few inches shorter than himself, with dirty blonde hair and light brown eyes. He had one of those faces you couldn’t decipher – was he sad? Was he happy? Angry, excited, terrified? – but at this current moment, all he wanted to do with that face was punch it.

Arthur and John stood off a little to the side, the younger of the two’s hand gripping the older’s shoulder tightly, as if keeping him in place. Arthur was breathing heavily, face bolting around to face him as soon as he walked in. “Tommy,” he said, brushing his brother’s hand off his shoulder before moving forward, “this fucking man-”

“I know, Arthur, I know,” Tommy said, voice cooler than even he expected. Calmly, he pulled out a chair and sat down, whipping out a cigarette, lighting it, and swiftly pulling it up to his lips.

The man belonging to this new face stepped forward with an air of forced dignity and honour about him. “Mister Shelby, I-”

“Don’t speak.”

He shut his mouth, blinking rapidly and ducking his head as if in embarrassment before slowly stepping back and unconsciously biting his lip. Tommy smirked faintly, taking a puff of his cigarette and looking over at his brothers. “Where’s Polly?”

“Says we can handle this ourselves,” John said.

Tommy nodded. That was fair enough; their aunt was protective of you, of course, but nobody could compare her protectiveness to her nephews’. Theirs was fierce and completely, unabidingly built on deep love for you. Doubtless, she did not agree with what this man had come to ask of them, but she didn’t need to be there to add her input. She knew what the outcome would be.

“What’s your name?” A small smile accompanied his query as he looked up at the man in question and moved to lean his chin on his fist.

“Jackson, Sir,” he replied. “Jackson Rodgers.”

Tommy nodded. “Funny,” he said, “I’ve never heard my sister mention that name before.”

“That’s because she probably doesn’t even know the fucker,” Arthur spoke up from the side, though he remained where he was. Tommy knew his words were correct, though. Truthfully, he himself couldn’t remember ever seeing the damn man even once, and he’d made it a point to subtly visit every one of your friends to ensure they were what he considered safe to spend time with. If you hadn’t told him about Jackson, there’d undoubtedly be more people you hadn’t mentioned to him, and that would lead to endless trouble from him on your side. But he knew you knew that, and he also knew you didn’t want that. So, really, there was only one other option.

“Is that right?” He waited for the wisp of smoke to waft out of his mouth before he lifted his head a little more to gaze up at the man in front of him. “Do you know my sister?”

He seemed to stumble for a brief moment before settling on an answer. “Yes.”

Arthur scoffed and Tommy nodded. “Right. How?”

This garnered an even longer hesitation. “I’ve seen her around town.”

Both Finn and John stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of relentless laughter, doubling over and slapping their thighs. Jackson stood silent, yet Tommy could see his face growing red – not with embarrassment, but anger. His sharp brown eyes had dimmed slightly, and his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were almost white. Temper. This man had a temper, and if something as simple as two men laughing at his expense brought out that temper, he doubted he’d ever get himself a woman that escaped the occasional abuse. Despite this, Tommy couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his lips before he reached his cigarette up yet again to puff. “That so?” He put a hand out to his brothers, signalling for them to quieten down. “You seen her around town, yeah?”

Jackson’s face hardened and he glared at Finn and John for a brief moment longer before turning it on Tommy. “Yes.”

“You can hardly count that as knowing someone, Mister Rodgers.” He wasn’t even looking at the man, and yet he could tell that he probably looked like a raging bull at this moment. Sure enough, when he lifted his head just enough to lay eyes on him, red was practically all he saw.

“Mister Shelby,” Jackson said, clearly still attempting to cover his angered tone with a calmer one, “I am a respectable man-”

“Respectable!” Tommy laughed. He snuffed his cigarette and threw it across the table before crossing one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine,” Jackson ground out.

Tommy nodded. He’d thought as much. Looking over his shoulder, he pointed at his brothers. “You see Johnny boy over there?” John stepped forward, intense glare on Jackson never wavering. “He’s two years older than you. That’s it. You’re practically the same age, and yet you want to marry his little sister.”

Jackson fidgeted slightly, though Tommy could see it wasn’t out of awkwardness. His lip kept twitching, and his balled fists looked as though they were ready to hit someone at any time.

“Do you even know how old she is?” Arthur spoke up from the side, voice slightly calmer yet still extremely unforgiving. The man in question glanced over at him before turning his gaze back on the head of the family.

“Answer the question, Mister Rodgers,” Tommy said with a faint nod.

Jackson had the decency to look frightened for just a second before he schooled his features and lifted his chin defiantly. “No. But I do know that she’s a young lady that needs to be married-”

“Needs to be married?” Tommy’s voice had risen a notch. There was a deep frown on his face as he reached up to remove his hat, placing it on the table before standing to his feet and moving closer to the man stood in front of him. “Needs to be married, you say? My sister is seventeen, and only just turned. She’s not even of age yet, so don’t you dare tell me what she needs. I haven’t thought about her marriage once. She’s a fucking child.”

Jackson soon came to find himself face to face with none other than Thomas Shelby, his nose mere inches from his own. Now he was closer, he could clearly see the anger swimming in those blue - like hard, cold ice - eyes, and the way his jaw was firmly tended. No doubt he was trying desperately to maintain his composure and control the emotions that were so obviously struggling to take over.

“Children get married to older men all the time, Mister Shelby.”

“Not in this house and not to men like you.”

Jackson stiffened. “As I said, I am respectable-”

“There’s nothing respectable about coming into someone’s house and asking to marry their seventeen-year-old sister, a girl you’ve never even met before!” Tommy hissed. “Do you seriously believe she’d want to marry you?”

“She doesn’t have to want it,” Jackson said, moving his face closer to Tommy’s. His voice was challenging, steady, and yet nothing but poison. “You’re her brother. Make her!”

The man couldn’t contain a gasp as he was slapped hard on the face. The sting and burn that accompanied the leader of the Peaky Blinders’ hand connecting with his cheek only grew worse, even after Tommy had withdrew, and he hastily reached up to grasp at his aching skin. He turned accusing eyes on the offender not a second later, yet made no move to speak. All signs of confidence had drained from his face, leaving nothing but fear and shock. He expected to hear the faint sound of John and Finn laughing yet again, but nothing reached his ears. The room was silent, the only sound being the hazy voices of men working outside the room. He turned his attention back on Tommy as the man made to speak. “I would never make her marry a fucker like you,” he ground out. “In fact, I would never make her do anything. I’m her brother, you piece of shit, not her slave master. All you want from her is the money she has and the body she owns. I doubt you even know her fucking name.”

Jackson had the good sense not to answer. Each word the older man uttered seemed as though it was dripping with venom, and it was all aimed at him. If he’d ever doubted the notorious Peaky Blinders before, he didn’t now.

Hesitantly, he looked over at Arthur, John and Finn, all leaning against the wall, smug looks gracing their faces. “You lot are mad,” he said quietly, though it was loud enough for them all to hear. “Why you wouldn’t want someone like me as your brother-in-law I have no-” He stepped back as another slap was aimed at his still-burning skin, and this time, the distinct sound of laughter coming from the three men by the wall reached his ears. He clung to his cheek yet again and glared at Tommy, who stood rooted to the spot, feet apart, arms crossed over his muscled chest, and an all but emotionless expression on his face.

“Do you want to say anything else, Mister Rodgers?” he asked, calm and smooth. Jackson breathed in deep and had the decency to look slightly shameful.

“No, Mister Shelby. I don’t.”

Tommy nodded, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He stepped forward. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to come here and ask that of me. You’re a brave one, I’ll admit, but if you actually walked through that door with the intention of marrying my sister than your skull is thicker than it looks. When she marries, and it won’t be for a few years yet, it’ll be for love or for business. I’m not handing her over to the first man that walks through my house.”

Jackson scoffed and opened his mouth to speak again, but Tommy held up his hand and tilted his head slightly to the side. “You’ve had your say, Mister Rodgers, don’t speak another word. You came here with a question, and my answer is no. Now, get the fuck out before I hit you again.”

“Run back to your mother, boy,” Arthur said, and Jackson had just enough time to give him the middle finger before turning and hurrying out the door.

“Yeah, and don’t come back, you rat!” John shouted. “Else Tommy’ll beat you up and leave you to rot on the front step!”

Tommy rolled his eyes at his brother’s words but nevertheless smiled slightly, shaking his head. The door shut loudly, almost shaking the building, and he sighed before reaching down for his hat. “He won’t be coming back.”

“He better not,” Arthur said, smoothing back his hair. Tommy looked at him for a moment before walking towards him. He knew his brother, and he knew Jackson had probably received a mouthful from him before he himself had had his go; Arthur’s temper was not something to be messed with and certainly not something easily reined in.

“You alright?” he asked.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. The nerve of that boy, though, Tommy…”

Tommy placed his cap on his head and reached out to squeeze his brother’s shoulders. He ducked his head to catch his eyes. “No one’s going to be marrying Y/N anytime soon, Arthur, least of all someone like that. She’s the last Shelby; we’ll wait for her, this time. She’ll make her own choices when she’s older. But, for now, we look out for her, as we’ve always done, and we keep those fuckers off her tail, alright? No one’ll get near her if we have anything to say about it, which we will. The next time someone comes in here asking for her hand in marriage, we’ll say nothing, and I give you permission to punch him in the face before we kick him out onto the streets.” He smiled at Arthur, who returned it immediately, before pulling him into a quick hug. “No one’s taking our girl away from us just yet, brother.”

You grumbled something incoherent as your mind puzzled over the numbers on the paper Tommy had told you to continue with. They were all over the place, really, and all you wanted to do was scrunch it into a small ball and throw it into the fire. Of course, you wanted to earn your firm place in the family business, but you knew it wouldn’t be for a little while yet, and even so, numbers were not your thing.

Footsteps coming towards you broke you from your slight reverie and you lifted your head, sighing in relief at the sight of Tommy. “Thank God,” you mumbled before giving him a smile. “Is everything okay?”

Your brother nodded, reaching for his pack of cigarettes still laying next to you and moving behind you while lighting one. He glanced over your shoulder. “Yeah. Just dealing with some idiot.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing for you to worry about. How’re you doing with those numbers?” He sat next to you and listened intently as you showed him all you’d done so far and what was left to do. All the while, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on your guileless, youthful face, and his attention strayed entirely to the way you were rapidly talking childish nonsense and getting increasingly frustrated simply at the prospect of dividing.

He shook his head the slightest bit, wondering to himself how anyone could take one look at you and think it alright to have you as their wife. You were a child, the baby of the family, and he wasn’t just saying that. Giving you a husband would take away your freedom and your innocence, something he adored in you, but, more importantly, giving you a husband would take you away from him and your brothers. No matter what anyone said about the Shelby family, the one thing that would always remain true was the fact that you came before anything else, even the business. He’d be damned if he handed you over to a man – any man – and only saw you a few times a month, or even possibly a year. You kept the family together; you were the light, the hope, and the future of the business, and without you he’d probably spend most of his days at the pub, drinking away his problems instead of sitting with you, listening to you simply speak and feeling those worries and fears drift away into nothing. You kept him sane. You kept him whole.

And he needed to hang onto you just a little longer before he let you go.

Just a little longer.

Just A Little Longer

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