Gun Metal And Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 12 Pt.1

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 12 pt.1

“The last time we were here, you held a gun to my face.”

Masterlist

I will not have you without the darkness that hides within you.

I will not let you have me without the madness that makes me.

If our demons cannot dance, neither can we.

It was safe to say that Thomas couldn't get Bonny out of his mind.

Thomas genuinely thought that when he left the bakery that the curly haired girl would leave his mind. He didn't even know her name, but he still couldn't get her out of his head.

But unfortunately for him, the fast companionship had come to an end.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't blame himself, and for the first time in a long, long time: guilt ate away at him.

The guilt for so many things to do with her that he could not name.

It was only a day later when his Aunt Polly noticed.

She stormed into his office and sat down in the chair opposite him. She lit a cigarette before she started speaking, Thomas did not greet her, he only stared solemnly.

"So which girl have you knocked up now?" Polly asked nonchalantly.

Thomas didn't honestly know how to respond to that.

She continued, "No. there's no pregnant girl... what shitty business have you landed in now? We only just got rid of the guns, don't tell me you've fucked something else up."

Thomas sighed and lit his own cigarette, "nothing of the sort, Pol. There's nothing to get in a flap about."

Polly scoffed, "well there clearly is, you've missed three meetings today and you're behind on almost all of your LEGAL paperwork. We can't conduct a legal business if you're lacking. Whatever it is, sort it out."

And so she stomped out, leaving Thomas with his thoughts. Well, more memories if anything.

Thomas thought of her hands and the way they fitted into his. He thought of the curve of her lips when she smiled, how her cheeks never seemed to grow tired of her joy. He thought of the way she became a peaceful record for him to sit next to and get lost in the sound of which.

He thought of how she all too quickly decided that they were friends and declared her name for him when she saw him in the streets. He thought of how different she was to him.

He thought of the way she smiled and he didn't, unless he was with her. He thought of the way she skipped and he didn't. He thought of the way she shone gentleness and kindness like it was her own form of light and he exerted cold glares and harsh words.

He thought of how much he needed her.

One last time. He'd see her one last time.

He'd look her dead in the eyes and examine the colour, which he'd yet to inspect. He'd look at her smile and burn it into the back of his eyes so it was there whenever he blinked. He would try and make her laugh one last time, just so he could hear it at night when the picks started hammering.

And lastly he'd remember how she made him feel. He didn't know how he felt.

But it was pleasant, and it was nice.

Thomas considered when to go. In their conversation last week, he remembered how she gave the food to the homeless children because it was clear out day, and nothing could go to waste.

So it was tonight that he'd visit. He'd go after the time the children stopped by, and just before she was about to leave, he'd go see her.

One last time.

——

Thomas stayed late, doing the paperwork that he was behind on, he filed them and noted the time. His eyes widened a bit when he realised he was later than he'd like to have been.

Quickly gathering his things, he made his way to the bakery at a steady march.

Arriving there, he noted that no lights were on and the door was locked.

He'd missed her.

Thomas kicked the stones in his path, his frustration seeping through his cold exterior as he stomped away.

He kept marching down the streets, no idea where he was going, just walking his anger off.

Thomas stopped short when he saw a weird lump in the middle of the street.

He manoeuvred around the strange rock mound in the street and for a closer look.

The rock moved slightly, up and down, up and down.

"It's just a drunk." Thomas thought.

If it wasn't for the small curls peaking out under the fabric, he would have kept walking.

Thomas crouched down next to the lump to examine the seemingly drunk girl.

Not wanting to startle the person in case they're a violent drunk, he carefully lifted the coat off the person to get a better look at them.

What shocked Thomas most wasn't the fact that he found a girl lying lifeless in the streets, no. What shocked him the most was that the girl who was on the floor, was his Bonny.

Thomas' mind instantly went into panic mode.

She looked as if she fell or she was thrown, she had her legs tucked under her and her body was leaning forward in a position Thomas couldn't imagine was comfortable.

Bonny didn't drink, so he panicked even more when he could smell small traces of alcohol on her.

She smelled of Brandy. The kind she baked with. He sighed in relief.

He turned her over so she was lying on her back, Thomas was now kneeling beside her.

He scanned over her body and noted that nothing was ripped or out of place, she only had a few scratches on her cheek from where she probably fell.

Thomas' head managed to clear for just a moment to get his head on straight.

He tapped the side of her face, trying to get her to wake up. She didn't respond.

Breathing. He could definitely see she was breathing, though it was shallow.

He tried tapping her face a bit harder this time, muttering her name a bit, "Bonny? Bonny? C'mon, wake up love." Thomas was in a state of panic, he just needed her to wake up.

He examined her body once more. Maybe he'd missed something.

After taking a good look at her - something he wished he'd be able to do under better circumstances - he noticed her body, her small, frail, body. He'd never noticed how sickly she looked with all her flowing dresses and thick coats. He never looked at her high set cheekbones and saw how sunken they were. She was thin to the bone.

After getting no where with his guesses, he quickly realised he had to get her off the streets.

Drunk men would start wandering the streets at this hour and seeing a young woman passed out in the middle of the street could never end well for her.

Thomas considered all of his options, though, he didn't have many.

His house? No, he left the keys in the Betting Shop, which was locked by Scudboat.

The small family home? No, they would ask questions that he didn't want to answer, she was scared enough of them as is.

Her house? No, he didn't even know where she lived.

...

The safe house?

Perfect.

Thomas scooped her up in his arms and went on his way.

——

Walking across the field, Thomas took another good look at her.

She was shaking in his arms, it wasn't THAT cold, but he figured that a girl as small and frail as her, wouldn't find it hard to get cold.

Maybe she was hungry, or just purely exhausted.

He remembered that from when he was a boy. Shaking with hunger. Those cold winter days when Polly thought he was freezing to death and kept wrapping him up, but actually he was just so fucking hungry that all his body could do was shake.

But not anymore. No.

Now, he provided for his family, ever since he got the legal betting licence, more money had started to appear. He could keep his family warm with fires and warm winter coats. He could feed every mouth at the table and still have more. He could afford nice clothing, and whiskey, and cigarettes to his hearts content.

When Thomas reached the Safe house, he pulled out the key that he always kept snapped into the grooves of his pocket watch.

It was a handy mechanism that his Uncle Charlie had presented to him.

So now whenever he twisted the handles on the pocket watch, the key would spring up.

Silently thanking Charlie as he adjusted his grip on the sickly pale girl in his arms, he fumbled around with the watch and put the key in.

——

Nothing had changed since the last time he'd been there.

Still the same walls and dark oak rafts that bordered the ceiling.

Thomas wandered up the stairs, kicking the door closed behind him, he got to the top of the landing and quickly realised that he had no idea where anything was.

Scuttling quickly down the hallway, Thomas peeked into each room;

"No... bathroom... liquor room - handy, but currently useless... bedroom."

Thomas rushed over to the bed and gently lay Bonny down. He stared at her for only a second more before he snapped out of it and got back to work.

He made quick work of taking off her shoes and getting her under the covers of the bed. He stroked her forehead as a last ditch attempt to work out what was wrong. She had no fever, but she was deathly cold.

Once again checking her breathing and her pulse, he crouched down and rested his head on the side of the bed. Thanking whatever he could that she was alive.

He made his way over to the mantle piece and lit the fire, hoping to get some warmth into this empty house.

"She can't have eaten yet." Thomas thought to himself. Possibly being the only coherent and smart thought he'd had since he'd found her.

He set for a path down the stairs, quickly looking back at her one last time before closing the door, trying to keep the warmth in.

He filtered through the cupboards and found a tin of beans and bread that had surprisingly not gone off yet. It must have been the cold keeping it from going off.

He heated up the beans and started boiling some water.

He poured the beans on the toast that he'd put above the stove, and filtered the tea through the strainer.

Putting all this on a slightly bent tray, he rushed back up the stairs to her room, it was only a bit warmer then.

He placed the tray on the bedside table, pulled up a chair and waited at her bedside.

He once again tried tapping the side of her face to see if she'd wake up, but she didn't react.

Thomas didn't know what to do. He had no idea what was wrong with her, he could only guess but he didn't want to try anything in fear of it backfiring.

"C'mon Bonny, I need you to work with me here."

——

I’m splitting this chapter into two parts, so here is the first part.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 9

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it did burn down in one.

Masterlist

I sat inside a room with nothing in it and realised it was still full. This is when I knew I was enough.

Dorothy spent the rest of that morning attending to her duties in the bakery. Mrs. P came in that morning with a horrible cough so Dorothy, after much convincing, managed to send her home. Thursdays were slow days anyway.

Everyone wanted to wait til Saturday so they could swoop in and get the cheap bread. She didn't blame them.

It was safe to say though, that Dorothy was officially bored. With the slow business on Thursdays and Mrs. P being sick. She didn't have anyone to talk to. Only the gramophone to keep her company as she sung to the lovely tunes that crackled out of the fine machinery.

The gramophone started buffering weirdly, small blips of peculiar sounds flitted out sporadically, becoming louder and louder.

She fiddled with the needle on the board and only huffed. She turned it off in a hopes that it would be ok when she turned it back on again, only to realise that when she turned it off, the sounds didn't stop.

And they were still getting louder.

Dorothy looked back into the shop of the bakery, her brows furrowed - there was no one there.

Peaking out of the shop windows, she saw a van with men surrounding it and walking in front.

Men, with guns.

A rather Pompous looking man with a nasally South London accent was barking orders.

She scrunched her nose at the greasy looking man.

When he got around 20 metres away from the bakery, he stopped. The men held up their guns in front of them.

Dorothy did not fear guns. She heard the shots every night where she lived. She only feared those who could pull the trigger.

It was only when the pompous man stepped off the van and carried on rambling did she realise there was a second party.

Looking the other way, she spotted a group of men that she feared.

She did not fear these men for being men. She feared these men for the burden they carried and that they would unleash that burden for any cause that suited them.

She feared the Peaky Blinders.

——

Oh Icarus! For all you have fallen, still you flew!

And for a moment, the sun knew of you, too!

Thomas was not a man of violent rage. But Thomas had his moments.

Thomas had these moments only a few times in his life.

He had this moment when he found out his sister Ada was pregnant with his ex best friends child.

He had this moment when he lost the guns.

He had this moment when he realised that Grace was a spy. When he found out that the woman he'd almost fallen in love with, was an agent of the crown.

"Posh toffs." Thomas scoffed, "always bad news."

Thomas was fuelled by rage as he came face to face with Kimber's men. Anger at this posh twat for being... there? In his way. Blocking him from climbing the food chain.

He felt anger to Grace and her deceitful lies and curious glances.

Thomas only felt his rage dampen when he pulled up to the street where he was meeting Kimber.

The market.

A very specific part of the market.

Outside of the bakery.

The bakery where his Bonny worked.

Thomas' thoughts left Kimber, left Grace.

He focused solely on the woman he knew was peaking through the windows like other shop owners as they strained to hear the commotion going on outside.

He thought of the way her hair curled into ringlets, perfectly intertwining with other strands, framing her face. The way her small fringe fell In front of her eyes as she constantly fiddled with its placement on her face, bringing the curls to rest on her glasses that sat delicately on her youthful face.

The glasses that made her eyes look wide as if they were staring into his soul.

He thought of the way her hand fit into his when she held it that morning.

He clenched his fist, desperately, in an attempt to see if he could replicate the warmth she exerted.

Thomas couldn't bring himself to look at the bakery. He knew she was watching.

The way she reacted that morning to the presence of the Peaky Blinders left no doubt in his mind that when she put the pieces together, their short time of contact and pleasant silences, would come to a close.

Thomas, for the first time, wished he wasn't who he was.

But Thomas also realised that without being who he was, he wouldn't have met her, that stressful evening in the safe house.

He didn't know if it were a curse or a blessing

He cursed himself for not examining her beauty that night as she slept in the chair in front of him all that sleepless night.

——

The exchange went by in a blur.

Dorothy tried to process what she saw. She desperately racked her brain for excuses as she saw him.

Bubs.

Her Bubs.

Walking with the Peaky Blinders. He was the Peaky Blinders. He was the leader of the Peaky Blinders.

Her mind could only work at turtles pace as she tried to comprehend the information.

It was only now as Dorothy examined her roller dex of memories that she realised that she had never come into contact with a single Peaky Blinder.

Only seeing their peaked caps and razor blades from afar.

She heard stories of Thomas Shelby. Dreadful stories of Thomas Shelby.

But Dorothy was stubborn in her beliefs and Dorothy decided in the moment the first gun shot went off, that the man who was standing not even 30 metres away from her, was not Thomas Shelby.

That was her Bubs.

And her Bubs had just been shot.

Dorothy only gasped when when a man came leaping forwards in front of him collapsed as bullets penetrated his skin, shielding her Bubs.

Dorothy had seen death. But she feared that she'd never grow used to it. Not with the brutality that was just committed.

Dorothy missed the girl standing in the middle with a pram. Dorothy missed the greasy man get shot in the head. She missed the man walking out with a heavy artillery machine gun.

All she saw was her Bubs.

——

The opposing group dispersed and wondered away, unsure of where to go.

The Peaky Blinders started to dwindle away, the excitement gone and no more toys to play with.

A few men grabbed Thomas but he waved them off, telling then to get a drink.

He may be bleeding out, but he had one last thing to do before he went to get himself sorted out.

The men slowly left, sending him confused glances which he ignored as he slouched in the direction of the bakery.

Thomas had one last thing to do. He was selfish, he knew. But he needed to see her one last time, before she would waltz out of his life, probably the same way she waltzed in.

Fire in her eyes, determination raw and unfiltered.

He stood in front of the shop as it dauntingly looked over his body.

Thomas was only severed from his thoughts when he was pulled in to said bakery.

——

A very tense moment...

I'm excited for the next chapter. I like pulling last minute surprises out of the bag and I'm debating how to go about this one!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 4

A second encounter that was not any better.

Masterlist

For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.

So collapse.

Crumble.

This is not your destruction.

This is your birth.

Dorothy awoke with a snap. Quite literally, a snap. As her head twisted out of it's awkward position resting on her hand, her neck made a rather painful and wince-worthy crack. Bringing her hand up to the side of her neck, she softly caressed the tender spot.

It was only when her eyes stammered open did she remember the events of the night prior. If she was being honest, she didn't know how to describe what had happened.

Strange?

Despite the small panic that settled in her stomach, she shrugged off the fog that clouded her brain and stretched her limbs, flinching at the sound of the joints popping and cracking.

"Note to self to never sleep sitting up ever again."

Looking around the room she was in again, she noted that the man from the night prior was no longer there. No traces of him except the now half empty bottle of whiskey in the liquor cabinet.

Eyeing her camera on the table, she picked up the awkward contraption, inspecting it in her palms. By the looks of it, it had been fixed, she admired the handy work of who she could only assume was the rude man she had met.

The panic that had only been dormant a few seconds prior, now bubbled to the surface as she remembered this was not her home and her father did not know where she was.

Deciding to not dwell any longer in this strange house that she didn't like, she slipped her wellie boots on and strolled to the door, not glancing back as she left the confines of the -in her words- offensive building.

——

Thomas Shelby was not a man to dwell on the past. Deciding the moment he stepped back in the Garrison, the day he returned from France, that the past, could only affect the future; dare he cared for the future. The past was not his concern, nor was the future.

So it was no wonder that as soon as he stepped out of the small confines of the safe house that Thomas Shelby forgot of the woman he spent the night in the same room with.

He didn't think about the curves of her face or the way the hair fell in front of her eyes; he didn't think of the way she pulled the front of her fringe back together every time it set out of place; he didn't think of the way the woman seemed so infatuated by the woods and the prospect of him having a house on the outskirts of which offended her to the point she threatened him -even if the threat was pathetic-.

No, he didn't think about any of those things.

Walking into the betting shop, he pulled his mind away from not thinking about her.

He stomped into his office, taking a look at his paper work, stacked higher than he would have liked but when legitimate business settles nicely into the company, he realises this will be easy weekend work compared to what's to come.

He rubbed the need for sleep from his eyes and sat down slowly. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his pen and began writing.

——

About a week had passed since the curious encounter the two individuals had.

It was now Saturday, Dorothy's last day of the long week before she can spend the day off tomorrow, once again prancing around with her camera.

Dorothy worked in a bakery, you see. She worked for a lovely slightly older lady who was almost sweeter than some of Dorothy's baked sweets. She hired Dorothy after she found it harder to work in the bakery all on her own. Dorothy would be lying if she said it was her dream job, but she couldn't deny that she loved the job with all her heart.

Today was clear-out day. Saturday was the day when Dorothy and Ms. P, the lovely ladies name, would work their hardest. While Ms. P spent most of the day inside the bakery, cooking up the more savoury and bulky produce; Dorothy was outside on the streets selling all of the baked goods that were left over from the week prior, before having to throw the food away.

Then, once Ms. P had finished her work, she left the keys for Dorothy and she baked all the sweets for the week. It was a good system and benefitted the bakery greatly.

The bakery was located in some of the more populated and nicer -if there is one- places in Small Heath. Dorothy never encountered any trouble, in fact, quite the opposite.

Dorothy had earned a small reputation among frequent market goers. Her sweets and sweeter smiles attracted all kinds of customers. Famous for her cute and creative names, she'd coined names such as: 'Pookie bears'-baked sweet bread, shaped like a bear; 'sweet circles'- doughnuts with a special added ingredient that no one had yet worked out; and finally the one she was most famous for, 'Bonny bunnies'- a small cake that stood upright in the shape of a rabbit, with a filling of chocolate or jam in the middle.

As well as being an adoring girl, she was also very caring. She found herself during the week, often leaning over the counter to give her buyers sweet and caring words as they explained to her their woes. She was deeply empathetic, and even though it got her down sometimes, she carried on, knowing that the world will keep moving forward and she had to keep up.

——

Thomas marched through the streets of Small Heath. People seemed to fly out of the way of his path, pushing their young children to the side.

The market becoming a bit quieter as he walked past. Thomas didn't bat an eye. At least he didn't until he heard the screams of a woman and the running group of boys charging in his direction. They were sniggering to each other as they tossed around a bag of what looked to be bread and an assortment of other items.

He would have just kept marching if one of the bodies of the boys hadn't crashed  into his.

'Oh shit' everyone thought, probably.

The boy stumbled back, clutching the clearly stolen bag of food to his chest.

His friends scampered off, fearful of the events about to take place.

The boy stammered out, "uh-uhm, Mr Shelby, s-sir. I'm so sorry -uhm- I, um."

Thomas hated petty criminals. These boys clearly did not need to steal, not at all, but did it anyway for the supposed thrill.

Thomas was about to make a move, when very quickly, a woman came tumbling through of the crowd, out of breath.

"Hey!" She panted, "that's not very nice!"

The statement itself did not seem very intimidating, but with the heartbreak and disbelief apparent in her voice made you feel as though you had kicked a puppy. The boy might as well have with the way she saw it.

The woman stepped forward, ignoring the Shelby man and standing next to the boy.

"If you would be so kind as to give back my sweets, that would be highly appreciated, thank you very much" she held out her hand expectingly as the boy meekly placed the bag back in her hand.

"Now I don't want to see you stealing from me or anyone else again, you hear me mister? It's very rude and there are many better ways of spending your day." Her tone like a disappointed mother, scolding a child. Usually petty crimes like this were dealt with in a harsher way than this, but by the look in the boys face, it seemed to do just the job. "Now go on, run along, I don't want to see you or your friends faces unless you are buying from my shop." She put a hand on his shoulder, "Most are only 2 pence, you'd enjoy them more if it was honest earned food."

She patted his shoulder and he scampered away, avoiding the Shelby man who had watched the whole encounter silently.

It was only now that she looked up and noticed the man. Her eyes glaring up at him as he scrutinised her under his gaze.

"Oh. Hello again." Her voice seemingly cheery but the look on her face said otherwise to the man she wasn't too fond of, standing in front of her.

Without so much as a hello back, the Shelby man inquired, "so you're just going to let him go? Eh?"

"Well yes. He is only young and will learn that bad things will always come to bite him back." She stated stiffly.

Those words somehow sent a shiver up Thomas' spine. Recollecting all of the horrible things he had done.

Nodding in agreement, he said nothing else.

The movement in the streets seemed to have resumed as the two stood there in the streets, just gazing at each other.

A weird crossover, but not an unwelcome one.

——

AND ANOTHER ONE!

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Feedback and comments are wanted.

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Gun metal and daisies (Thomas Shelby)

Masterlist

An introduction

Dorothy Monroe

The stars would be so proud to know their atoms created someone like you.

Photo for Dorothy can be found on other places where I post this story. The woman I used didn’t want her photo on tumblr. Thanks for understanding.

Thomas Shelby

Unfeeling and bloodless, you are like a God

Polly Gray

She wears strength and darkness equally well, the girl has always been half-goddess's half-hell.

John Shelby

You chug a fifth of alcohol and everybody is too busy cheering to wonder how empty you must have been to do it.

Arthur Shelby

They broke the wrong parts of me.

They broke my wings but forgot I had claws.

Ada Shelby

We are the granddaughters of all the witches they couldn't burn.

Gun metal and daisies is so amazing! Do you have like a certain idea of how many chapters you want to write?

Hi! Thank you so much!

Well as you may know from Masterlist there is currently 31 chapters of it on my Wattpad and I’ve planned the rest of the book in chapters; so if I stick to my planning then there will be 47 chapters in total!

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