PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS - Tumblr Posts

Thomas Shelby x Kidnapped!Reader

An imagine in pieces : Requested? I think so?

Tommy was always precautious when you went out.

Finn or John would usually accompany you when you went out

But now it was Isiah who kept you company when you where out

“Stop looking at women like that Isaiah, it’s disrespectful.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

What a bean.

You had been a big fan of reading.

Once and a while Tommy would send you out to find new books to read so you could tell him all about it when he tried to sleep.

The library was like a maze and being the clumsy person you are, you lost Isaiah.

As you read around the library, you would hear Isaiah calling out for your name.

You wandered around and slightly panicked when he stopped calling your name

Turning onto one of the bookshelve corners, you saw Isiah on the floor.

Then everything turned black

When Isiah went into the Garrison, it was late, he was bloody and tired.

Tommy could have almost killed Isiah if it weren’t for Michael, telling him that Isiah is the only person who knows what happened.

“Send a search team, every man, working or not, I want them searching everywhere for Y/n, now!”

Tommy not sleeping for days until he found the first lead to who might have taken you.

Drinking heavily because you aren’t there to stop him.

Him not admitting that he misses you.

“We’ll find her Tommy.”

“I asked you to do one thing for me and you lose her. You fuckin lose y/n, Isiah! Do you know what that means?! That means I’m fuckin’ lost to shit because she isn’t here!”

People not realizing how much you meant to Tommy until now.

Tommy still not sleeping because at night he would go out and try to find you himself.

Polly trying to calm him down but knowing she couldn’t.

Everyone knew you where his anchor- Everyone.

Arthur staying up with Tommy a few days, making sure his brother was in check.

Ada reassuring him.

But when he got a clear lead. Oh how he almost killed every man in that room until he got a straight answer.

When they had located where they were keeping you, a whole mission was set up second by second to make sure you would be safe.

When he walked into the building, you were set up like bait.

Tied up onto a chair in the middle of the room.

Beat up.

Cut.

Bruised.

Soaked in freezing water.

His heart shattered.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Is Isaiah alright?” God, you didn’t think he could ever look so upset. “Is he alive?”

“He’s alright.” He slowly stepped closer.

“No, don’t. Don’t come near me. I’m bait, Tommy. We both know it.” He hated that you where right. “Make them suffer Tommy. It’s not like I can go anywhere.” The light chuckle that came out of your lips scared him. He knew that if this was your last moments, you would be okay with it.

As you sat in the chair, your heart started beating slower. You had been starved, dehydrated and beaten. Your body couldn’t handle it anymore but you determined to stay awake. His name would slip out of your lips a few times, trying to warn him that your body was giving out. But then everything went black again.

You were safe at home when you woke Tommy was by your side with the book you had picked out at the library. You dropped it when they took you. “Don’t be angry at Isaiah. It was my fault.” He looked at you, his expression was apathetic but his eyes gleamed.  “I wandered off on my own. He called out for my name when he couldn’t find me, I found him on the floor. That’s when they took me.”

Never have you seen Tommy so heartbroken You knew he was looking at every ingury.

The cut on your lip

The bruise on your cheek

The rope marks on your neck

“I’m alive, Tommy. That’s all that matters.”

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t. And don’t you dare give me some bullshit about leaving me because, “it’s the best for me” when it’s fuckin’ not. I knew what I was getting into and nothing will ever pull me away, Tommy.” You put your hand on top of his, as it rested on the lower portion of your thigh.“I made the most amazing mistake of falling in love with a Shelby and I’m never takin’ it back.”

Hail MAry im back, quick update on my life. 

Im alive, i still love tom holland and cillian murphy. I have fallen into the fandom of Sherlock and ¡ I have a boyfriend? Ill talk about that later. But I think i just needed some time to finally want to get back into writing. In two weeks its my spring break and i’ll be in france and Italy! My 11 hour flight will be for any writing and my inbox and request for anything is open 24/7!!! 

- Love, Me!

Okay okay okay! Quick question for my Peaky Blinders family… do y’all think the Shelby brothers would date black women? As a POC I’m thinking like percent wise

Arthur: 50%

Tommy: 25%

John: 65-75%

If By Chance

requested × @pollysgirl

My head nodded towards the gentleman as he handed me my bags, I sway my way around passengers getting off the train.

I looked around trying to find a familiar face, I walked around passing people before setting my suitcases on the bench. I digged in my coat for my lighter flipping it to pass the time as I waited for an old friend.

"What's shakin' bacon?" I grinned turning around and seeing my favorite person in the world world.

"Not a thing, chicken wing." I winked at her holding my arms out as she ran into me.

"Oh, I missed you." She held me tightly.

"The feeling is mutual, darling." I kissed her cheek, we pulled away smiling at each other before I notice a little boy walking up to us.

"Does my eyes deceive me, or is that baby karl." I squat down at eye level with the boy, he shy away behind his mother only peaking from behind her to look at me.

I reached in my pocket and got out a small toy car for karl making him stepped from behind his mother.

"I know your birthday was last week, but I didn't want to meet you empty handed." He hesitated to take looking st his mother before me.

"My mother says I shouldn't take things for strangers." I smirked looking at Ada as she smiled down at her son proud.

"Smart boy. Good thing I'm not a stranger, am I ada." Ada shook her head no looking down at Karl.

"No, she's one of my closest friends. We're basically sisters. " She grins rubbing his back, he looked back at me before taking the car out of my hand.

"Thank you." He says softly admiring the red fire truck.

"You welcome." I stood up straight looking at Ada, the sound of thunder ringed in the distance making us head towards the car.

"Next stop: home." Ada says starting up the car.

We finally reached Ada's house as the sun starting to set, I laid my suitcases on the bed in the guestroom she offered me until I can found myself a flat.

"Thank you for letting me stay here, Ada. It means a lot." I said sitting at the kitchen table watching her looking through her fridge.

"It's the least I can do for you helping my cousin out and all." I waved my hand as if it was nothing, imagine my surprise when I ran into Michael. He was a smart guy but he was too ambitious....reminding you of someone.

"It was nothing. I'm just glad his back here safe and sound, he was wild card back in New York." I said shaking my head taking a sip of my beer.

"Yeah, I heard. Did you met Gina." Ada asked.

"Yeah, she seemed like a good girl." I shrugged.

"Good girl?" Ada laughed before taking a puff from her cigarette.

"That girl is snake in a fur coat." I laughed with Ada at her take on the young girl.

"Oh god, I missed this..." she giggled.

"What? Talking shit." I grinned.

"That and talking with you."

"You might not be able to tell, but I'm blush right now." She coughed inhaling the nicotine as we laughed not second later karl walks staring bis hungry.

"How about pasta for dinner, I remember seeing a Italian restaurant when we past by...I pay." I asked.

"No, way. Your a guest–"

"A guest who is staying here rent free, come on Ada you know you can't win argument with me." I smirked getting out my wallet.

"You win this time, but next time I'm paying." I gave her a look saying otherwise.

The next time came sooner than I thought as I took Ada out on a lunch break.

"Guess who asked about you today." I raised my eye sitting across from her outside a Cafe.

"Does his name start with T." She nodded playing with her necklace as she rest her chin in her hand.

"He wanted to know why you haven't visited yet." I hummed tilting my head up to the sky as the sunglasses I had on blocked the sun from hitting my eyes.

"What did you tell him?"

"That you were busy trying to find a job and a flat." I looked back at her.

"Did he buy it." She shook her head no making me groan.

"He gonna want to see sooner or later." Ada says softly.

"I know." I sighed taking off my shades and putting them on my shirt.

Ada break was over and offered to drive me back to the house, but I decline telling her I was going to the park to clear my head. I kissed her cheek before we parted way, I took in the fresh cut grass and birds chirping as I found a bench under some shade with a great scenery of a field with people on the grass having picnics and childern playing.

A group of childern ran around with a football kicking it around reminding me of a memory that meant dearly to me.

I stomp in a puddle of mud getting my black shoes dirty, I could hear my mother stern voice cussing me out when I get home. I walked along the schoolyard at recess watching the other kids play, my head snapped up hearing crying from the tree I was a few feet away.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked the little girl, it wasn't unusual to see younger kids around here since we share the same recess in the small school she shook her head clenching a decapitated doll.

"No, a big kid ripped my doll head off." She sniffled rubbing her eyes, I frowned down at her before looking around for a teacher to find and surprise surprise they weren't any around.

"Come with me." I hand out my hand and she took it as I pulled her to the art room we were lucky we still had and sat her down in the chair.

I went to the cabinets and grabbed some thread and a needle that the teacher kept in case, I moved back over to her and started to fix her doll.

"I seen you around watery lane, your a friend of charlie?" She asked.

"My dad and him use to work togther in the mines, before he moved away." I said making her nod.

"I'm Ada. Ada Shelby." I told her my name and shaked her hand after I finished fixing her doll.

"Nice to meet you, Ada." I handed her back her doll, she smiled happily clenching it to her chest thanking me.

The next day I was under the same tree reading when i glanced up to see a boy from my year walking towards me, I looked back to my book ignoring them knowing they just want to cause trouble.

"What's your reading?" The boy asked, I looked up staring into his piercing blue eyes.

"Frankenstein by Mary Shelley." He nodded walking a little closer towards me about to say something when the same little girl from yesterday came running over.

She stopped next to me taking a seat, she smiled towards me before looking over at the older boy giving him the second degree.

"Why are you messing with my new friend." I looked surprised at her before hearing the boy snort.

"I'm not messing with her, I just came over to tell her thanks for what she did for you." He huffed rolling his eyes.

"Oh...well you thanked her now kick rocks." She sassed making me giggle, the boy glared at me as I continued laughing.

"I assume you know each other?" The boy opened his mouth to say something when Ada beat him to it.

"Sadly yes, this is my older brother Tommy." I chuckled again closing my book between my index finger to save the page. I grin at Tommy.

"Hi." I said.

"Hey." The bell ringed signaling recess was over, Ada said goodbye to me not even glancing at Tommy as she ran back to her class.

"Can I walk you to class." I asked smirking, he looked at me with raised eyebrow before nodding.

I never told them this but meeting Ada and Tommy was the best day of my life, I was a outsider and its hard to befriend new people you barely know. I usually wouldn't look twice at what happened to Ada but I did...why? I don't know...but I'm happy I did it, if I didn't I wouldn't have met Polly, John, and Arthur.

Thomas and I grew close we hanged out ever chance we got with Ada and John tagging along with the us, Arthur would come too just so he didn't have to do chorus...I remember having a crush on Arthur. I was always teased by Ada and John by it and I think Arthur knew too, Thomas laughed about it wondering why I a thing for his older brother.

"I don't know maybe because he knows how to have fun, unlike someone I know." I jest looking at him, he rolled his eyes.

"I know how to have fun." He grins before taking a another of his beer before handing it to me as he ran and jump off the quarry into the water below.

"Holy shit." I said looking down over the edge to see Thomas splashing in the water, I finished off his beer before launching myself off the rock and into water.

We had so much fun back then but it seems liked when we started our 11 year we had to stop, we started to changed...I started to changed my body actaully...my once small chest grew a bit and so did my hips I got a bit taller...and thomas notice this...and arthur.

Arthur and Thomas flirted with me every chance they got either in my father's shop or at the garrison, one day after coming home my mom told me we were moving back to the states and I was devastated. He messed up again and we had to move...again, I got drunk well everyone was having fun at our going away party I sneaked off and drunk kissed thomas. It was the best first kissed I ever experience even though we were both a bit tipsy, what hurt the most was that he didn't send me off me off as I boarded the boat to America.

It always amaze me how a happy memory of mines can also lead to a sad one, I looked up hearing someone clear their throat to see the very man who been on my mind every since lunch.

"Hello, Tommy." He nodded wearing that same look when we first meet.

"Hey." He took a seat next to me as I looked back at the scenery in front of me.

"How did you know I was here."

"Ada told me you were having lunch at the Cafe, so i drove over and hope for the best." I looked at him in surprised.

"What if I wasn't here."

"Than i would have took it as a sign." He said taking out a flask, he took a sip before handing it towards me.

"A sign for what?" I asked coughing a little at the strong whiskey.

"That we weren't meant to be togther." I handed him back his flask and looked down at my boots.

"Oh."

"It's that a good 'Oh' or a bad 'Oh'..." he asked.

"It's a bit of a not so happy since you took my first kiss and didn't show up to send me off kinda Oh." I said snarky.

"So...a good oh?" He joked making me slapping his chest.

"Don't get smart with me, Shelby." I glare softly at him with a faint smile.

"You haven't changed a bit." He chuckled lowly rubbing his chest.

"I don't think so..." I looked away from him, he frowned a little looking at me before grabbing me hand and caressing my hand with his thumb.

"I'm sorry for not being there when you left." I looked over at him.

"Why weren't you?"

"I was angry at you for leaving." He sucked his teeth shaking his head.

"I didn't have control over that..."

"I know you didn't and I knew then too I was mad that after we kissed it was...perfect as if we fit togther like–"

"Two puzzle pieces." He grinned nodding.

"Yeah, it wasn't fair." He sighed taking off his cap and raking his hand through.

"I know." I glanced at him and scooting closer.

"Good thing i waited in the park a little bit longer." I said smiling at him.

"Is that you saying you willing to take a chance on me." I moved my to left and right thinking.

"...yeah." I nodded leaning in making the first move capturing his lips, I held in him as hid tongue explore my mouth making me feel greedily.

"We should leave too many prying eyes." He said whispered in my ear making me look around seeing some people give us looks.

"Good idea." As we stood up tommy put his arm around my shoulder pulling me closer to his side making me put my arm around his waist as we walked towards his car.

. _. Bro... I've just watched Peaky Blinders amd trying to get my uni work together... But this fic got me stoked...

Its FAQIN GREAT!

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

Thomas Shelby x Reader

I was thinking of writing a Tommy x Reader one shot that my hands are currently itching to write XD.

Would you love to read it? With or without smut?

Oh the plot I thought about is somewhat similar to this fic I recently read but in my fic we work in the kitchen and we're more on the power side (because your writers a top herself 😌).

People who will like this post will get tagged ^^

I'll Fold Like the Makahiya Leaves (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

This gif makes me go feral 👹👹👹

✨NSFW [Mention/Scene of cheating (Not Tommy), p n v, Unprotected (cover it before you tap it? is that the term?? XD), Oral (both), Language], Thomas "gentleman" Shelby, You one rich bish (Daughter of a duke), and mention of death✨

🐧Hello!!!~ I have exams so I tried finishing this before I can go study my ars off. Also got 8 vaccinations in one go :"D so if you don't hear from me after this month I'm dead XD HAHAAHA Kidding I wont die... becuase I have more than one personality in me >:D. Also this may be a BIT long :”D BUT its a lovely story I swear :”3 sorry heh… for those who don't know what Makahiya Leaf (Humble Plant) is... Its this🐧

Anyways :3 have fun reading ^^

-----(Before the War, City of Bermingham)

The streets of Birmingham always seemed to move a little slower when you passed through. You’d see the familiar faces, offering them polite smiles and small nods from your carriage window, though your mind was always somewhere else. Your father taught you well—manners, grace, independence—but you never felt quite like the lady everyone saw.

Your father, the Duke, made sure to hire the best-of-bests to teach you everything, Literature, Combat, and Cooking. You were the best at everything as well, although your preferred cooking to which your father gifted you a restaurant of your own on your eighteenth birthday (which you managed perfectly).

At times like this when you'd be looking out the window, you’d often catch sight of Thomas Shelby, the man you secretly adored from afar, standing near his betting shop. His eyes would meet yours for the briefest of moments before he nodded in acknowledgement. It was strange, the way your lives always seemed to brush against each other but never really connected. Your father knew the Shelbys, business of course, but his feelings toward them were mixed. He respected Thomas’s sharp mind, but he didn’t want you getting too close to a man from a family like that. Especially since you were the only thing his wife left him after passing away, he was not risking it.

Not that it mattered at the time. You were, after all, engaged to Billy Kimber, a man of status, a man your father approved of.

"You have arrived Miss" your driver shouted from the outside as your footman opened the door.

"Thank you, Mister" as you jumped out of the carriage to your fiance's house.

You planned to surprise him by visiting him. Bringing along with you the pasta you cooked especially for him. With a small smile, you went forward not knowing that this was where your life would fall apart. Going in you'd see a mess was made in the living room, the maids looked at you a worry as if they warned you not to go upstairs. You slowly go up to see clothes scattered around the staircase and panic ensues in your mind. Finding his room, you slowly open the door a little to only discover Billy entangled with a woman—with your closest friend, no less. The betrayal cut deep, and you didn’t know what to do with the pain. You slowly closed the door as you went downstairs. Billy's groans and your friend imprinted on your mind like torture, you gave one of the maids the pasta and left.

-----

Calling off the wedding, your father cut all connections with Billy. Highly disappointed with his actions as he comforted you. You cried all week, eyes swollen in tears as you curled up to your knees on your bed. You just loved him too much it hurt.

After weeks of torture and isolating yourself. You hear from the maids that a war was in the midst. A sudden idea comes to your mind, as you ran to your father's office. The pain and torture of the memory bruising your kind heart, bringing you to a decision that only made sense at the time—you volunteered for the war effort, not as a soldier, but in a position that still gave you purpose: a culinary officer overseeing the mess halls (an Admin is what your father pushes you to do, but he made his connections make sure you cook too becuase your were very adamant about it).

Your father had connections in the war. Giving you that choice to be in war but not on the field, but still do the thing you loved the most. You buried your heartbreak in the work, letting the chaos of war drown out the memories.

-----(During the War, Meeting Thomas Shelby)

The clang of pots, the smell of food cooking, and the steady rhythm of military life became your new normal. You found comfort in the kitchen, in the work. It was easier to focus on meal preparations, and managing the chefs and budgets than to think about everything else you’d lost. Over time, the carefree, kind girl you used to be slipped away. You became mature, more efficient, and more respected. But there was still a part of you that missed who you had been.

As the day passed by, normal as it may be, you supervised the mess hall as the staff served soldier after soldier. As you passed by the back to oversee the service, a loud bang shattered across the room.

"Danny! Calm down!" A man with blue eyes exclaimed as he tried to pin the bigger man down he flipped all the tables and screamed which echoed through the halls.

You ran out the back of the kitchen and helped the other man, successfully pinning him down to the floor.

"You're alright! Danny!," you spoke in a calm tone to Dannys' ears as he continued heaving. You patted his back and talked him out of his oblivion.

"Wars outside Danny, you're in the mess hall, you're safe here," you whispered as his breathing slowly normalized.

The man with blue eyes looked over you in suprise, as he lifted Danny off the floor who was now apologizing. You said it was alright as you commanded the staff to clean his mess. You knew what the war did to people and this was almost an everyday occurrence in the mess hall.

As nurses escorted Danny out of the mess hall, the man with blue eyes approached you and spoke, "Sorry bout that, Ms. Y/L."

You then turned around to look at him and were surprised to see Thomas Shelby, how could you have missed that? "Mr. Shelby? You serve in the war?" was the only thought in your mind as he stared at you with his icy blue eyes. He nodded, "and you... manage the mess hall," he said with a small smile, you nodded.

This was the only time you two conversed fully, You've always wondered how'd he sound like, your father never really wanted you to approach him so he usually just greets you by tapping his hat and that's that.

However, after this day, Thomas Shelby started appearing in the kitchen almost every day. At first, it was just a glance as he passed by, greeting you as he walked by with his brothers who were smiling at you. But soon, he was offering his help—carrying supplies and staying after meals to clean up. You didn’t question it at first (since every other soldier would do the same, even his brothers), his presence was different, warm to be exact despite this cold war going on. You’d exchange a few words, small talk about the war, but nothing too personal. Yet, there was a quiet understanding between you. You both knew what it was like to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and soon conversations ran deeper. To you explaining about your mother's passing, to him exchanging the information on how his father left their mother. It felt really warm having him at this times.

------

One evening, as you finished overseeing the evening’s meal preparations, you felt him watching you again. You kept your eyes on the work, your hands steady as you diced vegetables. “You’ve got a habit of being in places you don’t belong,” you remarked, not looking up but knowing he was there.

“And you’ve got a habit of working to the bone,” he replied, his voice low but teasing.

You finally looked at him, meeting his eyes. “It’s better than thinking about what’s out there.” you placed the knife down and sat on the edge of the desk.

Thomas nodded, his gaze softening. “I could say the same.” approaching you as he took another pair of knives out, "Mind if I help?" he picked up a potato as he looked at you waiting for your permission.

You shook your head and smiled at him before taking the potato out of his hand, "It's alright, I don't want you hurting yourself like last time." Pointing at his injured fingers.

He chuckles as he places his hands deep in his pocket. "I'll just accompany you then," as he leaned on the desk watching you skillfully slice the vegetables, he was in awe at how your delicate hands seemed so soft even after so long.

He stood there in silence for a while, and then, Arthur and John stepped in, laughter spilling from their lips as they approached.

“Look who it is ey?! The lady chef! Our dear Ms. Y/L” John called out, a teasing lilt in his voice, as he held your hand and kissed it softly. “You’ll be cooking for our wedding feast soon!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “You’ll have to find someone to marry first, John.”

Arthur chimed in, grinning widely. “I’m sure if you keep cooking like this, you’ll have all the men lining up for you.” his strong accent apparent as he spoke.

“Better watch out, Tommy,” Arthur said, glancing back at Thomas with a smirk. “I think you might have competition.” pointing his chin out the window with other men peeping at her. They then quickly hid as Arthur pointed at them, like mice seeing a big scary cat.

You caught Thomas's eye for a moment, and he raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused (annoyed?). “I think you’re the one who should be worried,” he replied dryly, nodding in your direction. “With her cooking, she’ll have any man she wants.” as he looked down, definitely not liking the attention you're getting from other men.

John leaned in closer, a playful glint in his eye. “How about we place a little wager, then ey? I bet you’ll fall for her before the war’s over.”

“What? Me?” Thomas replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You’re out of your mind.” chuckling a bit nervously.

“Oh, come on!” John insisted, nudging Thomas playfully. “I’ll bet you a fiver you'll be chasing for her soon. She’s got that way about her, you know?” winking at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “I doubt Thomas would ever fold for someone like me," chuckling before contintuing, "but I'm in.” patting the bag of coins in your dress pocket.

Arthur smiled, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “What do you say, Tommy?” John pressed, his excitement growing. “Ten Quids? Just for fun.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “I’m n't part of this ridiculous bet. I have better things to do.”

“Yeah, like how to not smile at our lovely chef here,” John joked, causing you to blush slightly as you shook your head.

Thomas pushed his brother out, apologising to you, as the two brothers walked walked away, you felt a mix of embarrassment and amusement. The Shelby brothers were relentless, but there was something warm and comforting about their banter. It reminded you of the camaraderie you had lost.

You looked back at Thomas, who seemed to have softened a bit, as he walked towards you once again. “Don’t let them get to you,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. “They tease because they care.”

He shrugged a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. “They’re n't wrong, though. You've got talent keeping us lot well-fed.” staring at the men outside the window as they ran away. You laughed at that.

“Only as long as you’re not causing too much trouble outside,” you replied, the smile breaking through his cold exterior.

His gaze lingered a moment longer, and you felt something shift in the air, but you were still worlds apart, separated by unspoken words and hidden emotions.

-----

As days passed, Thomas was asked to serve on the field again, but just before he left for the front lines, he did something you didn’t expect.

As he walked through the back kitchen with his hat in hand, he looked at you with concern, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t usually say things like this,” he began. “But I’ve had my eye on you long before this war.”

Your heart dropped. You didn't expect that Thomas Michael Shelby would have rendered feelings for you. However, you were not ready, not yet, not after the heartbreak you’d been through. “Tommy, I…” you stuttered, fidgeting your fingers behind as you looked him straight in the eye. Tears almost flow to your eyes.

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know about what happened with Billy.” As he walked towards you, closing the remaining distance, but making sure there was still space for comfort.

The mention of Billy made your chest tighten, and you looked away. “I'm sorry Tommy, I can’t, not yet. Not after everything…”

He nodded, walking forward a bit more as he kept his eyes on you. “I understand.” As he placed his warm lips on your forehead as you inhaled. You kept your eyes closed as you heard his footsteps go further, opening only when you heard it no more and with that, he was gone.

You sighed as you scolded your heart for not taking such a kind man in your life, but you were hurt, your heart still had that scar. Inhaling the crisp air of the kitchen, trying not to break down and cry, you turned and continued cooking. Thoughts spiralling through your mind.

-----

You exchanged letters after that, brief notes of friendship and support, what you both needed at the time. However, one day, you received a different letter. You opened it knowing it was from your father, Colored crimson red just like how your father loved, you opened it with delight.

Dear Ms. Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, despite the circumstances surrounding it. It is with profound sadness that I must inform you of your father’s passing. The Duke departed this life earlier this week, leaving behind a legacy that has touched many.

In light of these events, it is imperative that you return home immediately. There are important matters to discuss regarding the estate and your father’s wishes, and I believe it is crucial for you to be present for these conversations.

Please take the necessary steps to join us as soon as possible. Your presence is vital.

Yours sincerely,

Lord Benedict Hargrove

Solicitor to the Duke’s Estate

Tears balled down your cheeks.

You were alone now.

------

With this, you were excused from your duties to attend the succession meeting with your father's connecting family (people you've never met). Leaving the war to go home.

Your father left you a hefty sum of money (possibly all his wealth) and the business he gifted you on your eighteenth birthday. Your relatives scoffed at you for this as they only got material things he owned (which also caused so much). Greedy people, you thought, they never even visited your father before he died and now they're here taking his money. The title was not given to you though, it was given to your male cousin (who was only thirteen). That was fine, you didn't even need the money from him because you had your own, you needed him but that was impossible even with all the money in the world.

-----

As the dust of war settled and the world slowly began to stitch itself back together, you found yourself in a position you had never anticipated. With the title of Duke passing to your younger cousin, you embraced your independence, leaning into the fortune your father had left you. Your father’s birthday restaurant—your pride and joy—became a symbol of resilience, not only for you but for the entire community.

Determined to build a legacy that would make your father proud, you transformed the establishment into a hub for soldiers returning home, providing meals and solace after the chaos of war. Word spread quickly about the new culinary wonder in Birmingham, and soon your name became synonymous with quality and innovation in the restaurant business. You took risks, introducing bold flavours and dishes that spoke of both tradition and your flair, quickly gaining a loyal clientele that appreciated your artistry.

In a time when women were often relegated to the shadows of men, you stood firm, a woman at the helm of your empire. Your determination and skill earned you respect, not just among the patrons but also from your peers in the industry. You refused to be overshadowed by the legacy of your father or the titles of your male relatives. Instead, you carved your path, proving that you were more than capable of handling the business and the challenges it brought.

Despite the accolades and success, a part of you felt incomplete. You often found yourself gazing out the window of your restaurant, lost in thought, wondering where Tommy went, it has been a year since his last letter. His absence weighed heavily on you, each passing day filled with uncertainty. Did he think of you? Did he know about your father’s passing? Is he... alive? Questions lingered, unanswered, like shadows at the edges of your heart.

-----

The pub was quieter than usual that evening. You stood behind the bar, wiping down a glass as your mind drifted. Life after the war had changed you. You had returned to Birmingham, but you weren’t the same woman who had left. The kindness, the sweetness—you didn’t let it show anymore. People respected you, maybe even feared you, but they didn’t know you. Not anymore.

You bought a pub close to the Shelby business (Sold to you at a lower price due to your name being famous in Bermingham). You didn’t buy it for any sentimental reason. You didn’t expect to ever see Thomas again (although your heart strings it). You convinced yourself he was gone, just like so many others who never returned.

And then, the door creaked open.

At first, you didn’t look up. You were too busy with your thoughts, too used to the routine of tending the bar. But when the room fell silent and some men left, you felt it—a shift in the air. Slowly, you raised your head, and there he was. Thomas Shelby, alive and standing in the doorway, looking very much like a ghost from your past.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You just stared, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Tom-Tommy? Y-You’re alive,” you finally whispered, the words catching in your throat.

“I am,” Thomas replied, his voice calm but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Guilt, maybe. Regret. “I’m sorry for disappearing…” as he slowly approached you, hands squeezing his Garrison cap.

“Sorry?” You set the glass down with a thud, your hands trembling. “I thought you were dead, Thomas! For a whole year, I thought—” You stopped, choking on your own words. “Why didn’t you come back? Write a letter or something???”

Thomas stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t know how. After everything, I wasn’t sure…”

His words broke something inside you. All the emotions you’d been holding back came rushing to the surface, and before you knew it, you were crying—crying. “You left me!” you screamed, the words torn from deep within you. “You left me for months!” as you backed off the counter and flaunted to the cabinet wall.

Without a word, Thomas walks into the bar closing the distance between you, pulling you into his arms (Your customers leaving). You tried to push him away at first, beating your fists against his chest, but he held you tighter, his voice low and soothing. “I’m here now… I’m here.”

You collapsed into him, letting the tears come as he held you close. The world outside didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was here, and you weren’t alone anymore.

-----(Everyone left the pub, leaving you and Tommy)

Later that night, you sat at a small table in the corner of the pub, the firelight flickering around you. The warmth from the hearth contrasted sharply with the coldness you had felt all year. You and Thomas exchanged glances, words unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

He shifted in his seat, running a hand through his hair, the weight of unvoiced confessions lingering between you. “You’re different,” he said finally, his gaze intense. “Stronger. I admire that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, the compliment washing over you. “I had to be,” you replied softly. “After everything…”

The room fell silent again, and you felt the vulnerability creeping in. “I thought you’d forgotten about me,” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes. “After you disappeared, I thought—”

“I could never forget you,” he said, his tone firm. “Not a single day passed without you on my mind. I tried to shove it away, but the thought of you being hurt… it haunted me, it did.”

His confession hung between you like a delicate thread, fragile yet binding. Your heart raced as you met his gaze, the spark of something familiar igniting between you. “and yet you left, but I understand now,” you said, the emotion spilling over (he explained that he had to be admitted to the hospital after receiving a life-threatening wound, putting him in a coma for months and weak for the rest. A reasonable reason for you to forgive him like lightning). “Although, I thought I could never forgive you.” sighing in relief.

“And now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a smile slowly tugging his lips.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d been through. “I-I missed you. Admittedly.” before pausing to look at him. "I missed you, most ardently,"

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Then marry me.”

You blinked, sure you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“Marry me,” Thomas repeated, more sure this time. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” as he stands to walk closer to you.

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You had imagined this moment in so many ways, but not like this. You stood up with him as you looked into his eyes, and realized that you didn’t need time. You had known my answer all along.

“Yes,” You whispered, voice barely audible. “I’ll marry you, but you promise this time? No disappearing?”

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I promise. No more running. I’ll fight for you.”

As he placed his hand on your waist with a knowing smile plastered on his face he grinned, pure happiness lighting up his face as he embraced you, lifting you off your feet in a whirlwind of joy. “I’ll make you the happiest woman in Birmingham,” he promised, his voice warm against your ear.

As he set you back down, breaths heaving from the joy you both shared, he placed his left hand on your cheek, gently caressing it. With his icy blue eyes locked onto your lips, he whispered, “May I?”

You nodded, but instead of waiting for him to make the first move, you pulled him closer by his collar, kissing him softly. The deep groan that escaped him sent a thrill through you as he tightened his grip around your waist with his right hand, while his left hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the connection.

The kiss was tender yet electric, answering the questions that had lingered in your mind for so long. He missed you, loved you, and that was all you needed. You pressed your forehead against his, feeling the warmth radiating between you.

With a surge of emotion, you kissed him again, this time more passionately, as if trying to pour all the lost time and unspoken words into that moment. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, lost in a whirlwind of feelings that had been building for far too long.

------

He groaned, and you held onto his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading away. Good thing the pub was closed because, within moments, you found yourselves on the floor, completely lost in each other, breathless and exposed.

“Fuck, you feel so good, dear,” he moaned, his voice rough and filled with desire as he began to thrust in and out of you. His movements were slow yet deliberate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each thrust eliciting heavy moans from your lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, craving more of him. Every inch of your body pressed together ignited a fire within you, each thrust igniting a deeper longing. His hands explored your curves, fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine as you met each thrust with your own rhythm.

“Thomas,” you gasped, your head thrown back as the pleasure built, eyes meeting his fiery gaze. There was something primal in his expression, a raw need that matched your own.

He captured your lips again, the kiss becoming a desperate dance of tongues and breaths, a promise of everything you both wanted. With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to his every move as if it were a well-rehearsed melody.

“I’ve missed… missed you, y/n,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. The weight of those words sank deep into your heart, and you pulled him closer as if the closeness could bridge the gap that time and circumstance had created.

With every thrust, the heat between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel the pressure building deep within you, a coil wound tight, ready to snap.

“Thomas, I—” you gasped, unable to form complete thoughts as pleasure coursed through your veins. Your body responded instinctively, tightening around him, and with a final thrust, you were sent spiralling into bliss, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

“Y/N!” Thomas softly groaned, feeling the way your body clenched around him, drawing him deeper into your warmth. He didn’t stop; he kept thrusting, wanting to prolong the pleasure that enveloped you both. Each movement sent another pulse of ecstasy through you, pushing you to heights you didn’t know existed.

“Please,” you whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensations, your body teetering on the edge once more. The overstimulation was almost too much, but you craved it, craved him. “I can’t… too much…”

“Just a little more, love,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, completely lost in the rhythm of your bodies. He thrust harder, deeper, chasing his release, wanting to see you unravel beneath him again.

With a series of slow, deliberate thrusts, you felt the familiar rush build once more. The world around you blurred as you scratched his back. “Thomas!” you cried out, arching your back as the second orgasm hit, sending stars dancing, moaning as you looked straight into his icy blue eyes.

“Y/N!” he gasped, feeling the way you tightened around him again, the sight of you unravelling beneath him igniting a fire within him. He couldn’t hold back any longer, thrusting into you a few more times before he finally reached his climax, spilling himself on your stomach with a low groan.

The room fell silent, save for your heavy breathing as you both heaved from the intensity of what just happened. Thomas slowly withdrew, catching his breath, and a satisfied smile crept onto his lips as he looked down at you, flushed and blissed out.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead before rising to clean himself up. You watched as he retrieved a cloth and gently wiped away the remnants of your passion from your skin, careful and tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

He returned to you, covering you with his big coat, the fabric enveloping you in warmth. You nestled against him, both of you laughing softly, the moment feeling almost surreal. You just did it on the floor.

“Quite the way to celebrate our reunion, eh?” he teased, his voice light, yet there was an underlying tenderness in his gaze.

“Definitely not what I expected,” you replied, your laughter echoing in the empty pub.

As you both settled into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the coat and each other enveloping you, the world outside faded away.

-----(Watery Lane)

The next morning, Thomas took you to meet the family. Arthur and John were already waiting when you two arrived, grinning like they’d just won a bet.

“Told ya she’d come around,” John said, elbowing Arthur. “Just took Tommy long enough.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached into my pocket and pulled out a small pouch of coins. “Here,” you said with a smile. “Your winnings.”

John chuckled as he pocketed the money, while Arthur grinned at you like you were already part of the family.

Polly watched you from her seat by the fire, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. After a long pause, she spoke. “You’ve got the backbone for this family,” she said looking deep into your eyes as she sighed. “You’ll do just fine,” Polly said approvingly. “You’ve got the strength to keep up with this lot.” puffing another hit on her cigar.

You smiled, feeling, for the first time in a long while, like you were exactly where you were meant to be. Felt like home.

-----(Married to Tommy <3)

Being married to Thomas Shelby meant more than just sharing vows; it meant a newfound power in Birmingham. There was an unspoken fear that rippled through the streets whenever his name was mentioned, and you could feel it. People admired you, not just because of your accomplishments, but because they understood the weight that came with being Mrs. Shelby. Thomas intended to keep you safe, to wrap you in a cocoon of protection that no one dared to breach. The knowledge that no one would dare hurt you, not with him at your side, filled you with a sense of security you had never known before.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you prepared for Thomas’s return home. You had spent the day tending to the pub, the laughter and chatter of patrons ringing in your ears, but nothing compared to the excitement of having him back in your arms. The warmth of his presence was something you longed for, something that made your heart race just thinking about it.

The door creaked open to your shared home, and there he was—Thomas Michael Shelby, rugged and handsome, the familiar twinkle in his eyes igniting a spark within you. You walked to him, unable to contain your smile as you flung your arms around his neck. “Welcome home, my husband” you whispered, your heart swelling at the sight of him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and you felt the world outside fade away. “I missed you, my wife” he murmured against your hair, his breath warm and comforting. Without hesitation, you leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The moment felt electric, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the weight of the day slip away. Thomas’s hands moved to your waist, drawing you closer as if he wanted to meld your bodies into one. You lost yourself in him, the world around you disappearing until it was just the two of you—lost in your universe.

Your heart raced as you pulled back, searching his eyes. There was a hunger there, an undeniable connection that only deepened with each stolen moment you shared. In that instant, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, feeling utterly cherished.

Thomas leaned in again, this time capturing your lips with more urgency. His kiss was fervent, igniting a fire within you that made your breath hitch. The taste of him lingered on your lips, sweet and intoxicating, and you could feel the pull between you, a magnetic force drawing you ever closer.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy. “Let’s not waste any more time,” he said, his voice low and filled with desire as he swept you off your feet. You gasped, both of you laughing softly, placing soft kisses on his neck as he walked up the stairs.

"Oh dear Tommy, I'll always fold like a Makahiya Leaf for you no?" chuckling as you licked his ear eliciting a deep groan from him.

"No worries y/n, I'll wait till you open again like I always do" as he kicks the door close. As he laid you gently on the bed, the air between you crackled with anticipation. He kissed you as his hands pulled your nightgown up and your hands unbuttoned his vest and polo, leaving both of you naked in minutes (With Thomas in his trousers).

Thomas’s eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him, the soft glow of the setting sun illuminating your features. You felt your pulse quicken as he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin.

“Just relax, love,” he murmured his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down your spine. He started trailing soft kisses along your collarbone, his lips warm and teasing, igniting every nerve in your body. Each kiss made you arch into him, craving more of his touch.

“Tommy,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him to continue. He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, and continued his descent, his mouth leaving a trail of heat along your skin.

His kisses travelled lower, savouring every inch of you. As he reached the hem of your dress, he hesitated for just a moment, locking eyes with you, seeking permission. You nodded, breathless with anticipation, and he wasted no time in lifting the fabric, exposing your bare skin to him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes roaming over you as if you were a work of art. With a slow, deliberate motion, he kissed your thighs, igniting a fire within you. You squirmed beneath his touch, the sensation of his lips brushing against your skin almost too much to bear.

“Please, Tommy,” you pleaded, your voice thick with desire. He looked up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face, before diving in, his mouth exploring you with a fervor that made your back arch off the bed.

His tongue worked magic, teasing and exploring, eliciting gasps and moans that filled the room. You held onto the sheets, desperately trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in this intoxicating moment.

“Just like that, love,” he encouraged, his voice muffled against you, and you felt your body respond, tightening around the pleasure he was giving you. He continued to work his magic, his movements expertly bringing you closer to the edge, the tension building deep within you.

As your breath hitched, you could feel the pressure mounting, a delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter until you felt as if you might break. “I’m going to—” you gasped, unable to finish your thought before he intensified his efforts, bringing you over the edge into a blissful climax.

Your body trembled as you rode the waves of ecstasy, calling his name, your fingers digging into his hair as the world around you spun. He didn’t stop, though; he continued to savor you, prolonging your pleasure as the overstimulation sent you spiraling once more.

“Tommy, please,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations, but he only increased the fervor, his mouth working tirelessly. Your body responded, the waves crashing over you again, igniting every nerve ending until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

With a final surge of pleasure, you let go, your second orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Both of you lay there, breathless and entangled in each other, the world outside forgotten. Thomas gently kissed your forehead, his clean fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin as you came down from the high of your shared passion.

He finally pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze. “You alright, love?” he asked, concern lacing his voice, but the smirk on his lips hinted at his satisfaction.

“More than alright,” you replied, a grin breaking across your face as you snuggled into him.

After a moment, he got up to clean up, his movements effortless and casual. You watched him, feeling a warmth swell in your chest. When he returned, he draped a big coat over you, wrapping you in warmth and comfort.

“Ready for round two?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief as you laughed, the sound echoing in the cozy room.

“This is going to be a long night,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye as you shifted beneath the warm coat. You could feel the remnants of passion coursing through you, and the sight of Thomas’s relaxed, satisfied posture ignited something within you.

With a playful grin, you pushed him back onto the bed, surprising him. His eyes widened, a mix of curiosity and amusement flashing across his face. “Oh? What’s this, then?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Just returning the favor,” you said with a smirk, your confidence surging as you climbed over him, straddling his hips. His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

As you pulled back, you let your hands roam down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt. “I think it’s time I take care of you, Mr. Shelby,” you whispered, your voice sultry and inviting. You could see his surprise morph into a pleased grin, and he nodded, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

You began trailing kisses down his neck, your lips brushing against his skin, eliciting soft gasps from him. The thrill of being in control sent a rush of adrenaline through you. With each kiss, you worked your way lower, taking your time to explore him, to tease and tantalize.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed, his hands instinctively gripping the sheets as you continued your journey. You could feel the tension building in him, and it fueled your desire to push him further. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, you paused, looking up at him with a playful smile.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, your voice a low murmur. He met your gaze, his icy blue eyes darkening with hunger as he nodded. “Always.”

You leaned down, slowly unbuttoning his trousers, your fingers brushing against his skin. The moment you freed him, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse in your grasp. You looked up at him, a wicked smile playing on your lips, before taking him into your mouth.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure, and you felt a surge of satisfaction at the sound. You began to move your mouth in a slow, tantalizing rhythm, taking your time to savor him. Each flick of your tongue drew deep moans from him, and you reveled in the power you held.

“God, you feel so good,” he gasped, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you gently. You picked up the pace, your mouth working him with a fervor that sent shivers through both of you. The sounds he made only spurred you on, pushing you to explore him further.

As you lost yourself in the pleasure of the moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, intertwined in this blissful dance. You could feel the tension building within him, and it ignited a fire deep inside you.

“Don’t stop,” he urged, his voice strained, and you obliged, wanting to bring him to the brink. You intensified your movements, your mouth and hands working in perfect harmony as you brought him closer and closer.

With a few final strokes of your tongue, you could feel him tremble beneath you, his breath hitching as he neared his peak. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice thick with need, and you took that as your cue to give it your all.

With one final push, you enveloped him completely, taking him to the edge before he finally released, his moans filling the room as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, feeling victorious as you pulled back to meet his gaze.

Thomas lay there, panting, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and desire. “You’re unbelievable,” he breathed, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Just doing my part,” you teased, wiping your mouth playfully before leaning in to kiss him again, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

You settled beside him, feeling utterly satisfied and connected. “What do you say we continue this long night?” you suggested, a playful sparkle in your eye.

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “I think I could be convinced.”

With that, the night was filled with love and sense of comfort. Thomas Shelby was all you needed. A man who could wait for a Makahiya Leave open once more and shower her with all his love.

Indeed, he was all you needed.

-----

🐧Wrote this in my laptop... The spacings off... I got lazy removing the extra spaces sorry bout the long spaces in between hope it was still readable :"3🐧

Tags in the comment section

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 6

“I never called you Bonny, Bonny.”

Masterlist

So many people have told me I need to open up

But not a single person understands that every time

I pry my apart my ribcage, releasing all of the butterflies

That have been hiding there for years,

People are too busy swatting them away

To realise what I have done for them.

"What do you mean?", she stared back just as curiously.

"Those kids... the food... the child... you. You. Who are you?" It was a rare occasion when the Thomas Shelby found himself in the unknown. He hated the feeling of being uninformed, it made him feel like he was on the outside of an inside joke that he was the punchline to.

Dorothy only smiled, thinking of the children again, "those kids have no home. Every evening on clear out day, I give them the last of the produce for free as they struggle to find food in other places, doing odd jobs for a quick coin."

She frowned at her words, "the baby, Tammy, poor girl was thrown out when she was only a few months old, left in a box. The children found her and try their best to look after her. We always have milk lying about, this being a bakery and all, so I heat it up a bit and feed her the best I can on days they pop in."

Dorothy had zoned out by this point, she was staring out the window looking into the torrential rain pouring down outside.

"Sounds like it might be bad for business." Thomas raised a brow.

Dorothy only shrugged, "those children need help, I don't care if it's bad for business, I'm not going to throw them out to the dogs or factories. I've known then all now for a year and I'd be heartbroken to hear if anything happened to them."

A tear slipped down her cheek, she made no move to wipe it away, seemingly lost in her own world.

"You're a very kind lady, Miss Bonny." Thomas stated.

Dorothy was startled by his comment, for two reasons:

1) he's never said anything remotely nice to her since they first met - well, 'met' might be a strong word. They were still strangers.

2)Bonny was not her first name, nor her last name.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. "I'm not Bonny."

Thomas chuckled, "I never called you Bonny, Bonny."

"Yes you did! You did it just then. My name's not Bonny." She stood up, hands on her hips.

"Well what is your name then?" Thomas mused.

"What's yours?"

It was in that moment that the conversation came to a holt. Neither saying anything, just staring challengingly at each other.

They seemed to be doing a lot of this recently.

"Bonny it is then."

Dorothy huffed at his words and sat down again, only to spring back up and head behind the counter to what Thomas assumed was the kitchen.

Thomas found himself following her, leaning against the archway to the entrance.

The furnace was blasting heat out, the crackling of the fire allowing a sense of comfort to wash over Thomas.

The quiet room was all of a sudden filled with the static sound of a gramophone in the corner. A beautiful classical piece played as Dorothy came strolling back around the corner. She jumped slightly when she saw Thomas leaning in the archway. Smiling sheepishly she turned towards a larder off to the side.

"Strauss, eh? Bit old school." Thomas called out from the doorway, now wondering into the kitchen.

"Few years off, it's Offenbach." Dorothy corrected.

Thomas' plan of trying to seem knowledgeable in romantic classical music backfired horribly.

"Yes, yes, of course." He tried to sound nonchalant, he was actually kicking himself at the slip up.

After 5 minutes of shuffling in the larder, she had all her ingredients in front of her.

Dorothy took a deep breath and got to work.

——

Dorothy was truly in her element.

Covered in flour, sugar, chocolate and jam, she shovelled sweet treats into the furnace.

Thomas had found a place to sit an hour ago. Just lost in his own head. He wasn't calculating or scheming. He was just thinking.

Thomas felt at peace in the kitchen of the bakery.

The sun had surely set long ago, the sheer heat radiating off the furnaces invading his mind and melting his worries. The aromas surrounding his senses, reminding him of that of his childhood, stepping into the kitchen, the smell of his mothers Chelsea Buns leaving his mouth watering.

But the best and most mind numbing sensation was the hum of Dorothy's voice as she swept around the kitchen occasionally chipping in the words she knew to 'Billy Murray - by the light of the silvery moon'.

The two not speaking to each other, but enjoying each other's company.

They were technically strangers to each other. Really, they had no idea who the other was.

But they were completely relaxed, no words had to be exchanged to feel the pure comfort that came with each other's presence.

Not that they knew that yet.

Dorothy found herself glancing over at the man - the rude man - in the corner of the room every now and again. She liked the atmosphere that came with him. She liked him a lot more than she did an hour ago.

She decided that this was nice. This was good.

Taking out the rest of the baked goods, she set them on a cooling tray, then turning to clean up the rest of the kitchen.

She looked back at the end furnace and realised there was one last batch of 'billion dollar bubs'. They were her personal favourite.

They were made up of syrup drenched oats, coated with dark chocolate, which was hard to come by. This meant they were the most expensive sweet she sold, coming at a price of 2 pence.

Rushing over to the furnace, she took them out, "they aren't burnt, but I can't sell anymore than what I've already baked."

Dorothy sighed as she plucked the tray on the counter.

She rubbed her eyes, "it must be the stress" she thought.

"Everything alright there, Bonny?"

Dorothy was startled by his slightly husky voice, it wasn't unwelcome, it just surprised her.

Nodding her head, "I by accidentally made an extra batch of Billion Dollar Bubs and I can't sell them."

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the peculiar name but didn't say anything. Thomas knew how to run a business but was clueless to the ins and outs of food produce.

"Say, would you like to try some of the Bubs?" She smiled as sweetly as she could, hoping he would accept so she wouldn't have to throw them away.

"I'm not really a sweet person myself. Never had much of a sweet tooth." Thomas shrugged.

"They aren't that sweet! It's dark chocolate, you see! They're really lovely!" She encouraged and prodded again.

"No I couldn't, besides, dark chocolate isn't exactly cheap, don't waste it."

Dorothy thought for a moment, she clapped her hands together; "well, would you say no to a thank you gift, for fixing my camera? It was very kind of you and I have nothing else but these sweets to repay you!" She smiled smugly at him. Only a monster would turn down a gift like these!

Thomas Shelby may have been a monster.

But maybe for just a second, he wasn't.

"Oh go on then..." he continued, "ill only eat a few if you eat some as well." He smirked a smile that would raise hell and trample heaven.

Always business and negotiating with Thomas.

Dorothy had no problem with this at all. She smiled even wider at the thought of eating some of her favourite sweets.

She picked up the tray and scurried over to where he was sitting by a counter. She placed the tray down and sat on the counter just by his knees.

"These are actually my favourite ones!" She gushed.

Thomas looked at the sweets to his left and picked one up, the slightly sticky sweet was warm in his fingers.

Looking back at Dorothy, she seemed more excited than he did that he would try one of her sweets.

"Well go on then! Give it a try!" She encouraged.

He squinted his eyes at her, not one to take orders. But what can he say, he was curious.

Popping the sweet in his mouth, his mind practically exploded.

Thomas all of a sudden knew why they were called 'baked goods' because it was fucking phenomenal.

Thomas has to stop a groan from escaping his lips as he threw his head back, savouring the bitter but sweet taste that invaded his taste buds.

Snapping him out of his euphoria, Dorothy questioned, "whaddya think?" She giggled.

Thomas' head darted back up to look at the girl, only just registering the sound that came out of her mouth. It was a gorgeous sound.

Clearing his throat, "oh yeah, not bad. They're not bad at all." He looked away from her burning gaze.

Dorothy would have been downtrodden by his words if it weren't for the fact she saw his hand creeping for another one. She only smiled, not wanting to discourage the hesitant man.

She reached for one herself and popped it in her mouth. She was less subtle with her reaction, leaning back, a moan  leaving her throat, loving the sweet taste.

She was not aware of Thomas' wise eyed stare as the sound left her lips. She did not seem fazed by the effect she could have with those sounds - apparently far too pure for her mind to even think of such thoughts.

"I take it you like your sweets?" Thomas mused, a small smile on his face.

A genuine smile, one that wasn't mocking or fake or even suggestive. Just a smile.

"Bubs." Is all Dorothy said.

Now Thomas was confused again.

"Bubs?"

"Yes Bubs. Your name. Considering you like these ones so much."

Thomas' smile faded and was replaced with a frown, "that's not my name."

"Well what is your name?"

"What's yours?"

Dorothy smirked in victory as she recalled the previous conversation they had, had earlier when he thought it good to call her 'Bonny'.

"Bubs it is then."

Thomas's frown lifted a bit, "I don't like that name, take it back."

A very childish answer for a very ruthless man.

She shrugged and said nothing.

Thomas only now allowed himself to smile. He too, decided he liked this. This was nice.

Dorothy noticed the look on his face and was satisfied. She had done her job. Pleased that she made the rude man smile, and just for a while he was kind.

They returned back to their blissful silence that was just perfect.

Finishing the last of the sweet treats together with only one remaining. They reached forward, pausing midway through the action. Thomas chuckled, "go on then, that one's for you."

Dorothy, had another one of her good ideas, decided she didn't like his suggestion.

There were many ways she could have gone about her plan, she didn't think to consider those ones, instead doing the first thing that came to mind.

She took a bite out of the delicious item and then proceeded to shove the rest of it in front of Thomas' face.

Thomas, startled by the very forward action, decided that he would respond accordingly by doing something very forward himself and biting the rest of the sweet treat off her finger and thumb.

His lips brushing against the tips of her fingers.

Only when he had swallowed the food did he look up at her again, not being able to suppress a smirk as his face burned an attractive shade of red in the small glow of the furnace light.

Thomas decided not to torture the poor girl any further and leant back in his chair.

After a moment of silence Dorothy took a deep breath and got off the counter, her leg brushing against his knee.

"What's the time, Bubs?"

Thomas smiled only a hint of a smile. He took out his Pocket watch, "8:45, you need you be somewhere?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Ah! Fiddlesticks! I need to get back!" Dorothy flailed around. Grabbing her coat and keys off the counter, double checking the furnaces were off.

Shuffling out of the kitchen and into the shop of the bakery, she noted that the man wasn't following her.

Huffing, she turned around. He stood there, just watching her as she got more flustered.

When Thomas did not move an inch, she marched over and grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the establishment, "I need to lock up, Bubs. I can't leave you in here."

What she didn't know was that Thomas was willingly moving with her, a fond smile on his face.

She let go of his hand to lock up, after doing so she tucked the keys under the plant pot next to the entrance and booked it down the street, only turning her head to look at Thomas one last time;

"Goodbye Bubs, I'll see you around!"

And round the corner she went.

——

I WARNED YOU THIS WAS GONNA BE FLUFFY.

Whew! 2000 words, I'm exhausted! I hope you enjoyed the sixth chapter of my book!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 7

A warm hand is better than cold, so let me hold yours.

Masterlist

You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.

Through the back alleys and past the pubs; around the whore houses and fight clubs, Dorothy ran in the rain.

The farther she ran, the darker the lamp lights got and the cries of young children got louder.

This was Small Heath.

The market may be the heart of Small Heath but the slums are the reality of Small Heath. It's the version of Small Heath equivalent to that of an actor when they're no longer in front of the camera.

So Dorothy ran. She ran for the same reason that horses ran in races, to win, to beat everyone else to the end.

Dorothy ran to beat the drunks, the cries of kids she couldn't comfort, she ran for the finish line.

It was only when she reached the finish line and crossed the threshold of her home did she take a deep breath and look for her winnings.

She found her winnings in the kitchen, reading the paper.

"Hello Papa!" Dorothy chirped.

"Evenin' Dotty." He quipped back.

Without another word, Dorothy put a record on the gramophone and started cooking up a meal.

"How's mum?" Dorothy was hesitant to ask.

After another brief moment of silence, her father sighed and set down his paper; "she was looking better this mornin'. Sat up enough to nibble on some bread then right back to sleep." His voice slightly shaky, though Dorothy would never point it out, "she awoke again in the afternoon, twtichin' violently. I didn't know what to do Dotty."

His voice shook her heart. Dean Monroe was never weak, never vulnerable; but as the days got harder and the weeks got longer. It was hard to keep the act together.

Dorothy could only squeeze her eyes shut tightly before setting a piece of bread down on a plate and spreading some lard over the top.

She plopped the plate down in front of her father, he looked up raising an eyebrow, "you need to eat, Dot. There's enough bread for both of us." His voice soft with worry.

She only smiled up at him, "it's alright Pa, I already ate."

Her father stared down at her a moment longer before tucking in and eating the bread and lard. Grimacing slightly at the taste.

"I'll go see Ma."

Dorothy left the room quickly. Padding towards the door, she didn't knock, knowing her mother may be asleep.

When she opened the door, she was greeted with the fowl sickly sweet smell of pestilence.

Her mother was sick. Horribly sick. Consumption was the only answer Dorothy could gather from the few medical books she had been given.

They had nothing to treat her with. Only trying their best to use home remedies and keep windows open for ventilation.

They couldn't afford a doctor, least of all the medicine. They were lucky to have a relative from a distant country send some of her books, as she was a nurse in the war.

They tried their best to help her get better but all they could do was stop it from getting worse. They hoped, at least.

She peeked around the door, examining her mother. She was asleep, if it wasn't for the haunting rattle of her lungs seeping out with every breath she took, you would have thought she was dead

Dorothy could only frown. She had cried enough, and it didn't get her anywhere.

Walking towards her mothers bed, she picked up the tea that was now cold and hadn't been touched.

Walking out of her sickly mums room, she paused outside of the door.

'Deep breaths.' That's all it took. She counted the creaky wooden floorboards that did little to warm her house. She counted the cracks on the brick wall that scratched surface of your skin if you brushed against it.

She counted the amount of drops that fell into the bucket from the leak in the ceiling every minute.

She could no longer count anything when the ringing forced its way back into her head.

Tinnitus is what the book said.

Bloody Tinnitus.

As well as being able to look up her mothers symptoms, Dorothy secretly looked up her own. Only to find an incurable auditory hallucination disorder.

Whenever there was silence, there was ringing. The silence was so deafening.

——

It was another week yet when Dorothy saw the man again.

The man she found that maybe wasn't so rude.

It was a Thursday, a slightly grey day, but a day nonetheless.

Dorothy had escaped her home in the early hours of the morning, swiftly making her way to the bakery.

Dorothy liked the calmness of the morning, it was the only time in the day where the whole of the town was still asleep, no drunks, no children crying. Just peace.

So it was a surprise when Dorothy edged towards the heart of Small Heath and spotted the stomping figure of her one... friend, Bubs.

Instantly Dorothy had a smile on her face. The woes of home leaving her instantly as she spotted her slightly peculiar companion through the fog.

"Mornin Bubs!" She chirped merrily.

It wasn't instantly that Thomas' head shot up to look around. Only remembering the voice of the curious girl he'd met a few times.

It was rare Thomas was thankful for anything, but today he was thankful that it was too early for anyone to be out and for his brothers or family to be with him.

Despite all that, he found a very very small smile spread on his face as the petite woman stopped in front of him.

"Hello Bonny." He remarked.

It seemed the two had both grown used to their new nicknames, enjoying the mysterious aroma that followed the twos companionship.

Thomas has found himself thinking about the woman time and time again since their last encounter.

Remembering the interesting evening they had spent together: her attitude, her care for the children; her quiet humming; her baking. “Oh god her baking”. Thomas nearly melted at the memory.

Thomas' day was busy, his mind even more so.

But he always found a time when she would slip through the cracks and invade his thoughts.

"What's got you up this early in the mornin'?" She smiled curiously.

"Just an early stroll to start the day." Thomas lied for the second time he'd known her.

He was actually on his way to the Garrison.

Today was black star day.

And what a day it will be.

"And what a wonderful way to start the morning" Thomas thought. To see her on the day he may not see anyone again.

"On me way to the Garrison before headin' out." Thomas added.

Dorothy nodded before clapping her hands together and gasping;

"I actually need to stop by the Garrison, do you reckon you have time to spare to come open the shop with me then walk to the Garrison together?" She grinned at the thought of spending the early hours of the morning with her new friend.

"You don't have to, of course! I just figured that it'd be nicer to not have to walk alone, it's awfully cold ou-" she was cut off.

"Go on then, lead the way." Thomas gestured his hand in the direction of the bakery. Surely no one will be out for a little while longer.

Thomas was just about to turn away towards the bakery when she grabbed his hand and began walking with him.

Raising an eyebrow and looking over at Bonny, she didn't seem fazed by her actions, only a small smile on her face as she bounced a bit in her step.

Thomas shrugged and got on with walking.

The two found themselves in a peaceful silence again, finding that they didn't have to talk to enjoy each other's company. It was a good arrangement for both of them.

This was good and this was nice.

And that's all they needed in that moment.

——

All it took was stepping into the bakery for memories to overcome the both of them.

While Dorothy wandered off to the Kitchen to take a few pence, Thomas inhaled deeply, smelling the rich scent of bread and sugary sweets.

His hand now feeling cold that Bonny had let it go.

And there it was again, the humming. The beautiful humming that she absentmindedly did whenever she was concentrating.

Thomas recognised the tune but couldn't place the memory.

Strolling back over to him, she instead linked her arm with his as they walked towards the Garrison. This time, she was chatting his ear off, but he didn't mind - her voice was soft and silky, she didn't have to hum tunes for her to put him at peace.

It seemed as though time had flown by when Thomas noticed them creeping upon the doors to the Garrison. Unwinding his arm from hers, he opened the door for her.

She grinned at him and walked through, sending a cheery smile to Grace, who was the only one behind the bar.

'Oh yeah. Grace.' Thomas had found himself forgetting about her these last few weeks.

In fact, he hadn't seen or thought about her at all since the night the guns were found.

Since the night he'd met Bonny.

Before Thomas walked through the door of The Garrison, he heard the sweet voice of Bonny, "Oh hello there! I was wondering if you could help me with something!"

Thomas shook his head. Always polite as always it should seem.

Walking into the Garrison finally, he spotted Bonny leaning over the bar gushing to Grace about the dress she was wearing.

Grace looked startled by the woman in front of her, slightly taken a back by the way she walked in and immediately announced that she loved Graces winter dress.

She didn't immediately notice Thomas walk in, finding herself comfortable around the girl who so insistently asked the fabric of which her dress was made.

Dorothy had that sort of way about her where she could make a room warm just by walking in, she made everyone in the room comfortable and relaxed. Everyone wanted to get a look at her.

When Grace finally noticed Tommy, as did the rest of the pub. The place went still and silent, feeling colder than before. He made the room stiff and antsy. His presence demanding that everyone looked at him.

Grace's attention turned away from the sweet lady in front of her. Grace didn't get the chance to ask for his order as she was interrupted by the girl whose attention had also drifted.

"There you are, Bubs, I almost thought you abandoned me for a second!"

Thomas only chuckled at the woman in front of him, the two of them looked to be in their own world together. Unaware of the stares of Grace and the other attendees in the Pub.

Grace cleared her throat, trying to get Thomas' attention.

She hadn't seen him in weeks, thinking she was making progress in her efforts, only to find out he had been galavanting around with this woman she had never seen before.

Dorothy looked back at Grace, smiling sheepishly for forgetting her presence,

"Look Bubs!" She gestured towards Grace, "isn't her dress gorgeous?"

Every other party in the room had been rendered speechless.

Who was this girl?

Did she just call him Bubs?

Did she just talk to him like that?

Did he let her?

But Thomas didn't care. He didn't even acknowledge Graces dress, only staring fondly at the girl in front of him who huffed at his lack of response.

Grace was blushing furiously at the forward-ness of the girl and her approach to the Shelby man.

The atmosphere changed again as the silence filled the room. Everyone's eyes on Thomas, gaging his reaction to the blunt command that was certainly not ok to ask a Shelby.

Thomas only smirked a small smile, not tearing his eyes off the woman he'd become to be rather fond of,

"yes, Bonny, it's lovely."

——

ANOTHER ONE FINISHED. Yayyyyyy!

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 8

Some secrets are better left surprises.

Masterlist

The ocean does not apologise for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness for the space they take and so, neither shall I.

The moment between the two individuals was quickly interrupted by the slamming open of the Garrison doors.

Thomas, after hearing the no so quiet chatter, knew who had just entered.

Dorothy strained her head around Thomas' shoulder and saw men with peaked caps.

It was the Peaky Blinders.

Dorothy felt her knees shake as they made their way into the pub.

Thomas quickly decided that these idiots were not going to ruin his companionship with the curious woman before he could finally work her out.

Seeing her fear of the men sent a small pang to his heart. Those were his men. They were supposed to be frightening. So why did her reaction only hurt now?

Quickly grabbing her arm and rushing to the back room before any of the men could start a conversation, he muttered, "let's get you your drink then, eh?"

Dorothy didn't make a move, her eyes fixated on the blinders so Thomas tugged on her arm and dragged her to the cellars down the stairs.

Thomas unknowingly smirked a little when he remembered their evening when she dragged him out of the bakery and into the pouring rain.

——

Dorothy was scanning the bottles around the cellar, taking each one out individually and scanning the tags and ingredients for the perfect one.

"I thought you don't drink?" Thomas asked, trying to make conversation. Very out of character.

"I don't" she muttered some of the ingredients out loud as she read them, "but some of Ms. P's bread has rum and brandy in them. You need the perfect one for the best taste..." she trailed off again.

"ai fi crezut că vorbesc cu un zid de cărămidă" Thomas muttered to himself.

"oh fi liniștit! sunt aproape terminat." Dorothy bit back.

Thomas let out a slightly animalistic noise when Bonny answered back in his mother tongue.

After composing himself, he cleared his throat, "you speak Romani?" He chuckled to himself. "Of course she does."

"My father taught it to me. Said it was important for 'is lil' gewl to know 'er roots" she laughed at her impression of him.

"So you come from a gypsy family, eh?" Thomas felt like this may be one of his only chances to ask her more questions as she's distracted now.

"I'll assume you do too?" Her eyebrows furrowed when she read the brandy bottle in front of her.

"What clan did he travel in?" Thomas asked carefully, this hopefully being his key to working out who Bonny is.

"What's with all the questions, Bubs?" She raised a brow, still examining the lacquered paper.

"Damn. Caught." Thomas only sighed.

Dorothy gasped when she found the perfect bottle, she shoved it into her bag while pulling out a few coins.

"Don't worry about pay." Thomas mentioned.

Dorothy scrunched her nose up, "but I have to pay, that's how this stuff works..."

"I'll just put it on the bill" Thomas shrugged.

"No, Bubs, you can't pay for this. It's under the bakery's money anyway."

Thomas only shrugged again, putting an end to the discussion. Dorothy only huffed and slipped one of the coins in his waistcoat pocket. That being her only compromise to the deal.

Thomas only grinned at her.

"So why can't I know your name?" Thomas hesitantly cautioned, hopefully getting the result he wanted.

"Why can't I know yours?" She bit back

"What's your name, Bonny?"

"What's yours?"

A sense of deja vu passed over the two as they remembered that they've had this same conversation three times now.

"Besides, Bonny and Bubs seems perfectly fine for now. We've become fast friends, Bubs, even though you held a gun to my face the first time we met."

Thomas missed half of that conversation when she mentioned the part of them being friends.

Thomas' voice got stuck in his throat at just the thought of being friends. Despite how sad it all was, Thomas revelled in her statement.

He cleared his throat, registering all the other things she'd said, "I should probably apologise for the gun thing..."

Thomas' train of thoughts was stopped by the slamming open of the cellar door.

Maybe it was a good thing he was distracted, what was he thinking? Apologising? Very un-Shelby like.

There, at the top of the stairs was Grace, rushing down, "Thomas I need to tell you something!"

Thomas sighed. Poker face back on. He said nothing.

"Uhm. I should go. Ms. P is probably waiting for me..." His Bonny scuttled off before he could stop her.

Grace only glared at the girl until she rounded the corner, out of the back way of the Garrison as to avoid the very prevalent Peaky Blinders in the hub of the Garrison.

"What do you need, Grace?" Thomas pinched his nose.

Now the day has properly begun.

——

Ahhh this chapter is very short, sorry!

It's still very important for the sake of friendship enrichment and all that!

"ai fi crezut că vorbesc cu un zid de cărămidă" = you would have thought I was talking to a brick wall.

"oh fi liniștit! sunt aproape terminat"

= oh be quiet. I'm almost done.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are welcome.

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 10

“You can’t make a monster cookie to honour my name, Bonny.”

Masterlist

A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest... because she should be absolutely certain in the depths of her soul that the most terrifying thing in that forest was her.

Dorothy said nothing as she sat him down in the waiting chair.

She also said nothing as she rushed to the back room. She plodded around looking for the best equipment that she could.

The silence continued until she was sat right in front of him, tugging his waistcoat and shirt off.

Nothing was said as she prepared to dig around inside his shoulder for the bullet.

This horrible silence was different to all their other silences that they usually had. It was different because Dorothy was confused.

She now knew he was Thomas Shelby, of course.

But she didn't know how to equate her Bubs on the same line as Thomas Shelby.

They were completely different people in her head.

Dorothy very quickly realised she was foolish for ever thinking this man her friend. Dorothy knew nothing of her Bubs, their friendship was built on an accidental meeting and unexpected run-ins.

The silence was shattered as she plunged the spoon and icing stick into the wound (she sterilised them first, of course) and Thomas' voice roared.

She could only wince in apology as his body instantly jerked away. She had no way of holding him down so she could only move back and forth with him and plunge the utensils in further.

After a horrible 2 minutes of digging around, the bullet was out and on the table.

She grabbed some thick string and a needle and sewed his wound. Thomas only reduced to grunts and the clenching of his fists at the numbing pain.

As she leant forward she cut the string off with her teeth, Thomas could smell her hair - she smelled of vanilla and sugar and rose water perfume.

Dorothy then thought back to the very little time she had spent with this man, she thought of the way he looked at her and answered her. There was nothing malicious in his face.

Dorothy just couldn't be scared of this man. She couldn't work out why, but she just couldn't.

She thought of all the innocent people he had probably killed and she empathised for them.

But that wasn't her Bubs. Her Bubs wasn't a man she knew, but a man she would like to know better.

She had never met Thomas Shelby and she hoped she never will.

The man in front of her was her Bubs.

Maybe this is one of the things people would call one of her flaws. She couldn't help but see someone's heart before their name, because people were not their looks or their family.

She refused to see him as Thomas Shelby because Thomas Shelby was a horrible man, but not her Bubs.

Dorothy repeated these words like a mantra in her head. You could say she was making excuses and maybe she was, but she didn't care. Not right now.

——

There was a long moment of silence after she handed him a bottle of Brandy, the same one she had bought that morning, well, he had.

She was staring at the ground, not saying anything.

"So..." she coughed, "Shelby, huh?"

Thomas for some reason ignored her question and instead answered with his own, "why did you help me?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you help me?" He repeated, "you know who I am, you can't possibly want me here, especially now that not only five minutes ago, I was bleeding all over your shop."

Dorothy only sighed, "I don't know." She furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly trying to come up with an answer of her own; "Friends help friends?" She stated more like a question rather than anything else.

"But I saw you, this morning. I saw the way you instantly recoiled at the sight of my men. Now you know they're my men, why are you still helping me?" He prodded further.

"They aren't your men. At least not to me they're not. They're Thomas Shelby's men. You're Bubs." Her answer didn't make sense. For a third time in their short companionship, Thomas thought she was daft, or worse.

She continued, "the man I've spent time with is not a gangster." That one hurt. "A ruthless man" ok I get it. "A killer." Low blow. But fair.

"The man I've spent time with is Bubs. I've been naïve to think I knew him, but I want to know more about Bubs. Not Thomas Shelby. Because Thomas Shelby is only a name with connotations wrapped around it. Thomas Shelby has become all of those things. But despite all that; Bubs is not Thomas Shelby." Her rambles, though not entirely coherent nor logical, seemed to be good enough for her when she nodded her head.

Thomas could only nod his head, supposing that was a reasonable answer.

"So what would you have done if I'd died? Eh?" He joked a bit, to lighten the air. Not a great way of doing it, but ok.

She only shrugged, giggling a bit, "I'd have made little cookies in the shape of monsters, to honour your reputation that you seem hell bent on keeping. Oh! and I'd make them with dark chocolate, because I know you like dark chocolate." She smiled a small smile, that only he could see.

He only scoffed jokingly, "you can't make a monster cookie to honour my name, Bonny."

"Of course I can! And what a mighty terrifying monster it would be! Buyers would tremble at the sight!" She shook her fist at the sky.

Thomas was silent for a moment, followed by the sound of roaring laughter. He laughed a laugh that he hadn't in a while.

Though she was mocking his reputation, he found her profound statements highly amusing.

And just like that, the previous events were forgotten. And in that moment, they were not Dorothy and Thomas. They were Bonny and Bubs.

And it was nice. And it was pleasant. And that's all they wanted it to be.

——

Oooohh that's a big leap! I tried my best to write their feelings in the most honest way possible, I hope it's alright.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 11

If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.

Masterlist

"Aphrodite," I plead to the moon drenched sky "Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?"

From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh.

And I knew.

Saturday.

It had been two days since that day.

That awful day.

That wonderful day.

After Bubs - or, er - Thomas was all stitched up and talking again. They found themselves talking about everything and nothing. Dorothy thought back to that day and sighed: things did not end on a good note.

——

Thomas and Dorothy howled with laughter as Thomas re-told some childhood stories, mostly centred around his brothers antics as they got into God-knows-what.

After sobering up, Thomas thought back to her words earlier that evening.

"The man I've spent time with is Bubs. I've been naïve to think I knew him-."

Thomas also realised that he knew nothing of the girl other than the basic small talk things they had previously discussed.

"So where about are you based? I've never seen you 'round ole' Watery Lane before, eh?"

His question made her stiffen. The life at home that she'd forgotten about when she was with him came rushing back in a blur, all too familiar.

"Oh, that's nothing to worry about, Bubs." Dorothy's smile wasn't genuine but just a quip to get Thomas off her back so she wouldn't have to answer questions.

Seeing her stiffness, he decided that maybe the question could wait for another time; "so still Bubs, eh?" He nudged gently.

"Of course you are! Still my good friend Bubs." She smiled proudly.

Thomas' heart twanged at her words.

The light-hearted conversation moved on, at one point, Dorothy broke open a tin that had boiled sweets in them, Thomas recognised the sweets as the ones the lady down the market used to sell before she passed.

"She gave me the recipe for them when I told her I was baking sweets in the bakery, she said 'I always remember you youngins coming into ma shop and feastin' on ma boiled sweets! I always knew how you liked 'em!'"

Dorothy giggles at the accent and Thomas smiled fondly at the memory of the lady.

Thomas like he'd stated previously, never had a sweet tooth, especially not after the war; but he did indulge a bit in the boiled sweets he remembered so strongly from when he was young and wide-eyed.

The conversation carried on, Thomas spoke with as big gestures as he could manage with his injured shoulder. He talked about his brothers, his sister, his Aunt Pol. For a brief moment he even mentioned a memory he had of his mother. Dorothy felt like she knew them personally from the stories Thomas told.

Dorothy knew what happened in that home before the war. She did grow up on the same streets as the Shelby boys, albeit, she didn't hang around them, but she knew of them.

She knew that their mother died. She knew that their father left. She knew of the Gray children being taken away. She knew of all of it.

Thomas paused when he'd realised he'd been talking for fifteen minutes straight - more than he had in a long time - and looked at Dorothy intently.

"Well I think I've talked enough about my escapades and family; what about yours?"

Thomas knew she knew all of the things that had occurred in his boyhood, so he found it highly unfair that he didn't know any of hers.

Dorothy didn't smile at the question or shake her head like she usually did. Instead a frown placed its way on her face. Her hands which had been sitting in her lap previously were now dancing about. Her fingers in one hand danced around on the back of the other in her lap. Thomas noticed she did this when she got nervous. She'd done it that morning when his men had walked into the pub.

Thomas also frowned at the sight; he thought she would do what she did earlier and change the subject but instead, she only smiled a nervous smile.

She spoke of when she was young. She spoke of a time when she could eat at least one good meal a day. When she could still go down to the sweet shop. When she had full cheeks and a rosy face to match.

She didn't speak of home or her family. Thomas also noticed this but decided it good to let her talk of what she wanted.

"I remember actually when I was still in school - I was in Johns year, and one day at lunch, John kicked a ball and it hit me square in the face." Dorothy broke out into a fit of giggles.

"He didn't even notice, he just ran in, scooped the ball back up and ran back to you lot." Dorothy cringed at the memory.

"Yeah that sounds like John-boy."

Thomas continued, "So you're the same age as John, you went to the same school as we did, I must have come into contact with you at some point!"

Dorothy thought for a moment before clicking her fingers, "I think there was this one time! It was at the cut, I think. I was running around with friends, doing god-knows-what and I think you and Freddie Thorne were racing each other to the other side of the river, when one of my friends picked up Freddie's clothes and your shirt and ran off with them!" Dorothy roared with laughter as she trailed off at the end, trying to keep her giggles controlled.

"That was you!" Thomas could only gape at her.

"Well, technically it wasn't me, it was my friends, but sure." She shrugged and doubled over in laughter once again.

Thomas only shook his head at the memory. The two of them had got out, Freddie had to trek back down Watery Lane in only his shorts while Thomas had his suspenders on. Thomas got a right earful from Polly that night.

Thomas scowled a bit, but couldn't hold it at the sight of Dorothy clutching her belly with laughter.

Thomas thought that by asking her all these questions, he could get a bit further to the truth of who she was.

If Thomas was being honest with himself, he knew it would only take a bit of digging for him to work out who she was. But for some unknown reason to him, he decided that he liked the mysterious aura that came with this petite girl.

But despite all this; Thomas was tired of beating around the bush.

He slapped his hands on his thighs and stated, "right. Go on then. Let's hear who you are. I think it's only fair, don't you? Eh?" Thomas not so subtly inquired.

Dorothy's mood dropped.

She wasn't one to get angry, and she certainly wasn't angry, she didn't do angry. But she was definitely a little miffed right now.

She knew that if she told Bubs who she was, he'd look into her and see everything about her. He'd look into her home life and see pity. He'd look into her mind and see bells of warning that never stopped ringing. He'd look into her heart and determine that though, broken, it was unbearably full and for a man like Thomas Shelby, he wouldn't be comfortable with a heart like hers.

"Who are you to sit here and talk to me about being fair? Your whole business is built on the foundations of murder and petty lying. Don't talk to me about fair, Shelby."

Dorothy wasn't angry.

But it was in that moment she saw him, Thomas Shelby. She saw that killer in his eyes flash for a second then disappear.

Thomas' gaze softened when the impact of her words hit him.

It was then, he learnt another thing about Bonny. She was kind, but she wasn't weak.

Kindness is often mistaken for weakness and that is a mistake you don't want to make.

Kind people are not born that way, they do not stumble into it, kind people are forged in fire and darkness and imploding stars... they have steel cores. Throw a punch and you'll break your hand.

The devil runs when the good man goes to war.

Their silence lasted until Thomas heard his name being shouted in the streets. He didn't realise just how much time he'd spent in the bakery.

Dorothy sat in her chair. She felt guilty for her words, but she had no other way of keeping her name close to her heart. Thomas could read her like a book if he wanted to.

But unlike Thomas, she was not burdened with her name. She had no squander with the way people spoke her name.

So she kept it close to her heart.

Because it was then, she knew, that once Thomas Shelby had her name, her heart would surely follow, not far behind.

Thomas stared at her for another moment. He lifted himself out of his chair, groaning in slight pain which made Dorothy flinch.

He left the shop, the bell chiming loudly enough to shake the tension but not push it to leave.

But he left. Without so much as a goodbye.

Dorothy sat for another moment. She sighed and got to work with cleaning up.

——

So no. Thursday did not end on a good note.

But lucky for Dorothy, it was Clear-out day. So hopefully the people of the market, would surely keep her busy.

But never enough to distract her from the aching pain in her stomach as she thought of her friend.

——

Awww this one was kinda sad.

Well anyway, thank you for 300 reads! The support is crazy!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

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 Chapter 12 pt.2

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

Masterlist

Earlier that evening...

Dorothy was exhausted. She'd spent a terribly long day at work with no breaks. She just needed the day to end so she could go home and sleep.

Slowly as she finished the last batch of sweets, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She grimaced at it, she never usually got so worked up when baking; but today it was all a tiresome experience.

As she unintentionally slammed the cookies down on the counter, it triggered the ringing in her ears that had gone off sporadically throughout the day.

She swayed from side to side as she stared at nothing in particular.

Home. She needed to get home.

Grabbing her keys and coat, she locked up and seemingly drifted out of the bakery.

As time wore on though, lifting her feet became an effort and her moves became sluggish.

She had no energy to run the safe route back home as the idea of a gentle jog made her feel un well.

She needed water. She needed food.

Dorothy was used to a lack of food, she could cope. But she needed water.

A common symptom of tinnitus is low blood pressure. She wouldn't be surprised if that was it.

She was cold. She was thirsty. She was hungry.

Somehow, despite all this cold, she was sweating profusely, panting hard as she tried not to slouch too much.

Dorothy stumbled around the streets of Small Heath until her vision very quickly narrowed and she fell face first into the jagged cobbles.

——

Thomas had his head in his hands, he was rocking slightly in his seat, muttering nonsense to himself.

Thomas didn't panic, he always had everything under control. But this time, he couldn't do anything.

He checked his watch for the first time and realised, much to his surprise that it'd only been ten minutes since he'd found her. It felt like an eternity. He couldn't do anything.

Thomas cursed himself for not noticing these things sooner. She was unnaturally small and frail.

He promised to himself, that if she woke up - no. She had to wake up - that he'd look after her in every way he knew how. He didn't care if she wanted nothing to do with him. He just needed her to be okay.

Dorothy gave Thomas a part of himself that he hadn't seen in a long time. A part where he laughed more and relaxed deeper.

Dorothy saw the lost pieces of him and stubbornly stitched them back together, kissing the wounded parts of him and giving them a name.

He chuckled to himself at the name. Definitely not a very suitable name for big, scary Thomas Shelby.

"What're you laughin' a'"

Thomas bolted up right at the scratchy voice.

She was awake. His Bonny was awake.

Thomas could only stare at her for a moment, she looked confused, scared, even.

"Bubs. Where am I?" Her voice was panicked and croaked painfully.

"We're in the safe house, love. The place we first met, you remember?" Thomas at this point was kneeling up against the bed, his eyes were wide, his hands itching to grab hers. instead, all he could do was fist the blanket, desperately.

"I hate be be a bother, but could I have some water, please?" She smiled sheepishly as if she'd just asked him to bend over backwards.

"Of course, love. Sit tight, I'll just go grab some." He scuttled our, not wanting to be away from her for too long in fear of something happening to her.

Dorothy neglected to mention that she couldn't exactly feel her legs quite yet, so she wasn't going anywhere.

Dorothy observes the room around her. The bed was small and seemed big enough for two of they got real close. The walls were a sea grass green, which complimented the dark oak mantle.

She revelled in the warmth of the fire, something she only felt when sitting near the furnaces.

Her cocoon of warmth was interrupted by one Thomas Shelby storming back in with water.

Thomas, ever so adamant to help her, ignored her arms reaching out to grab the glass. He instead, leant her forward a bit and rearranged the pillows so she was sitting a bit more up right.

He then grabbed her chin, and brought the glass to her lips, and tipped it slightly.

Dorothy sensed that he maybe needed to do this in order to comfort himself that he was helping; so she just let him do it.

The water slid down her throat, her throat scratched at the hydration as it settled in her stomach, she almost immediately felt better.

Thomas wiped his thumb against her chin, discarding the droplets that's missed her mouth.

She only smiled weakly at him.

"How's your shoulder?"

Thomas stares in disbelief at her question. Here she was, limp in a bed, after being found passed out in the streets; and she just asked him how his shoulder was.

It was almost comical.

"I find you passed out in the middle of the streets and you ask me how my shoulder's doing?" Thomas chuckled dryly.

Dorothy only shrugged, "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, I didn't want to scare anyone!" She had a guilty look across her face, She looked at Thomas as though she had committed an unspeakable crime, that not even HE could stand. "Say Bubs, how did I get here?"

"I carried you. Is that a problem? I understand not liking to be touched. Did I offe-?"

Dorothy gasped, "Thomas! Your shoulder! You can't be carrying anything in that state! Especially not heavy things like a person!"

Her statement reminded Thomas of the food that he'd made her, he ignored her accusation and turned to the tray, placing it in her lap, "when did you last eat?" He tried to be as casual as he could, not wanting to arouse suspicion of his actions.

Dorothy paused, "I had a bit of the chocolate batter from one of the Pookie bears!" Dorothy tapped her left fingers on the back of her right hand.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the motion which she quickly settled, "Bonny, when did you last eat?" His voice a bit stronger, but not enough to frighten her. He saw how she could get frightened easily.

Dorothy's pause was even longer this time. She mumbled something that Thomas couldn't quite hear, "what was that, love?"

"Thursday..."

Thomas' panic only grew, a sick feeling settled in his stomach. "What did you eat on Thursday?"

"Boiled sweets with you..." Dorothy didn't look him in the eye. Terrified that his last ounce of respect had gone down the drain.

She knew that Thomas Shelby could eat three meals a day, and no financial crisis would occur.

Dorothy hoped that she'd have been able to keep this sort of thing under wraps from Bubs just a bit longer. So she could enjoy, if just for the briefest second, having someone close like a friend, who just enjoyed who she was.

With his next words, she knew that the jig was up: "why haven't you eaten since then?”

Thomas didn't honestly expect her next words. Though, when he thought of them, they made a lot more sense than what he was thinking.

He thought that maybe she was insecure. He thought that maybe she was like him and sometimes just forgot to eat.

But instead, he got, "Couldn' affor' it." Her voice was mumbled, but he'd heard it loud and clear. His heart broke slightly.

A single tear, rolled down her face, neither of them moved to wipe it away: her out of pure embarrassment; and him out of shock.

"Of course." Thomas thought. "Of course that was it. Half of Small Heath is practically a homeless shelter."

It just had to be his Bonny caught in the middle, didn't it?

Thomas didn't say anything for another second, Dorothy tensed when she heard him inhale deeply.

"Well go on then. Eat up." Thomas' voice was full of exhaustion and something else she couldn't quite catch.

If she hadn't of been so desperate, she would have refused politely. Instead, she took a slightly shaking hand and picked up the fork.

The shaking Thomas saw. She wasn't just cold. She was starving.

She took a good few mouthfuls until she stopped, feeling rather full and content at the delicious and filling food she'd eaten.

She usually just had bread and lard or potato peel stew, something along those lines.

She only now deemed it okay to look at Thomas, now that she'd felt like the tension had eased. Thomas though, did not look impressed.

"You gonna finish that? It's just one piece." He raised an eyebrow.

Dorothy felt terribly stupid. "Oh my! I didn't offer you any! I'm so sorry, Bubs. I really didn't mean to be so selfish. Here. Take it. I'm full." She pushed the tray in his direction, terrified of making a wrong move.

Thomas grew even more concerned. She never acted like this around him. She was acting like every other person in Small Heath. Scared to offend. Skittish.

Thomas hated it.

"Now don't go acting like all those other people back in that shit hole. What happened to Bonny, eh? You weren't scared of me before, and you have no reason to be now." His words hurt to say. She was scared, and he hated himself for it.

Thankfully, her shoulders relaxed and she smiled gratefully at the reassurance. She hated how she left things off with Thomas on

Thursday, she was scared he wouldn't want to see her again.

"Now are you gonna eat the rest of that or not?" Thomas leaned forward.

"Oh! No thank you. I'm quite full actually, it was lovely though!"

This, Thomas deemed, was not good enough. She was gonna eat the whole of that bread, weather he had to spoon feed her or something equally embarrassing - for her.

"Now C'mon. It's only one slice, you can finish that." Thomas pushed a bit more.

"I'm really full, Bubs. You don-."

"Bonny. Eat. Now." Thomas' voice was stern, far more than he would have liked. He didn't want to be like that with her.

Dorothy bowed her head a bit and picked up the fork again, eating in minuscule bites.

She looked up at the room again and smiled slightly; "the last time we were here, you held a gun to my face."

Thomas chuckled at the memory, "aren't I glad I didn't follow through with that... nearly shot ya. Thought you were a copper."

Dorothy decided that she didn't care for Thomas' business, and when he was with her, it appeared he wasn't too interested in talking about his business either.

It truly was their little escape.

She put down the fork again, trying her best to be subtle, but like most things, it didn't escape Thomas.

Definitely not now, not anymore.

"Do I need to help you, or are you gonna help yourself?" His tone sounded alike to that of a scolding mother that made Dorothy slightly curl in on herself. It was endearing. But she was full.

"Bubs, I seriously can't eat anymore. I'll just feel sick."

But Thomas was not having it. Instead he sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, he put the tray on his lap. Dorothy thought he was going to take it away.

"You remember last Saturday, at the bakery that evening. You made an extra batch of your dark chocolate sweets?" He didn't give her time to answer, only cutting up the toast into smaller pieces, "you remember how I said I'd eat some if you ate some with me? Well how about we try that? Hmm?" His voice was soft. It dragged Dorothy in like a draft from under the door.

She contemplated it for a minute before nodding slightly, "this is not gonna end well."

Thomas put a piece in his mouth before taking another bit and bringing it towards Dorothy's holding his and under the fork so it wouldn't fall onto the bed, should the food decide to be stubborn.

He smiled satisfactorily when she bit it off the fork. This continued on for a few more minutes until the toast was finished.

If she was being honest, Dorothy felt sick to her stomach. But the small, proud smile on her Bubs face, made it all worth it.

He handed her the tea cup and she drank it slowly, trying to hold down what she could.

She definitely ate too much.

Thomas stayed perched where he was on the edge of the bed. Dorothy moved over a bit so he could get more room.

There was no conversation, the only sounds in the room was the crackling of the fire. Thomas enjoyed the comfort, feeling rather proud of himself that he helped her a bit. Dorothy stayed silent for fear that when she opened her mouth, her stomach would purge whatever was sitting there.

The moment continued for another minute, until Dorothy very abruptly asked, "where's the water closet?"

"Down the hall, first left. You need any help?" He lifted up a bit, reaching out his hand to help her up. Instead of grabbing his hand, she bolted out of the bed and ran to the bathroom.

"A girl thing..." Thomas thought to himself. He remembered when he was younger and Ada still lived with them, that she'd get up every night without fail, rushing for the bathroom.

Thomas settles back down until he heard retching coming from the bathroom.

He immediately sprang into action, rushing down the corridor, his first thought was intruder, but when he peeked around the slightly ajar bathroom door, he saw Dorothy, spewing her guts out.

Thomas' heart wrenched at the sight.

He didn't really know how to comfort her so he did what he saw Polly do to his mum when she came home off her face and vomiting on the floor: he held her hair back, brushing the strands off her face and rubbing her back slowly.

Thomas for a second time, felt guilty. He shouldn't have made her eat so much.

All he could do was whisper sweet nothings and apologies into her ears until she finally calmed down.

She sat back and Thomas reached up to pull the flusher, of course after checking that she was definitely finished.

He leaned against the wall, still rubbing her back as she leaned into him. Her shoulder digging into his chest, but he didn't mind, as she rested her head on his shoulder, facing away from him.

"I'm sorry, Bonny. I shouldn't have made you eat so much. I forgot that's not how stomachs work..." he chuckled softly.

She could only breathe out a laugh, wiping her chin from any muck that sat there.

Unfortunately for her, she slightly missed the toilet bowl and got a bit of it down her front.

Groaning slightly at the burning feeling in her throat.

"I hate to be a bother, but could I have some water, please?" Thomas only let out a small laugh at her words from earlier.

"C'mon. Let's get you back to bed, then you can drink to your hearts content." He smiled bashfully at her.

"You know I don't drink, Bubs." She mumbled, slightly dazed.

Thomas shook his head. He could never forget. He could never allow himself to forget a single thing about her, for fear of losing her.

He gently placed his hands under her arms to help lift her up with him, he turned her around,  his eyes scanning her dress that didn't look too great anymore, "I think there is some clothes around here in the drawers of the bedroom. I reckon Pol moved some of me shit in here. Complainin' 'bout this place feeling like home." Thomas shook his head.

This time, he grabbed her hand, leading her back to the bedroom, she walked with him, willingly, her eyes slightly glossy after the last few minutes.

Though the events of that night were worrying and full of panic. They could both agree that it was nice, and it was pleasant. That's all it needed to be, when they were together.

——

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 13

What a plot twist she was.

Masterlist

I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone.

“Ah, shit.” Thomas sighed. He was digging around in the drawers, only finding his slightly older penny collar shirts and three piece suits. After a bit more digging, he found some braces and loose trousers.

Thomas let out an undignified snort at the realisation and of what she had to wear.

He turned to her, holding the braces, loose trousers and dress shirt; a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No!” Dorothy could only gasp, “I can’t wear those, Bubs!”

“I’m sorry, Bonny, it’s all I’ve got for you.” His grin only getting wider.

Dorothy huffed and snatched the clothes, trudging to the bathroom.

She scrunched her nose up at the smell that still lingered in the room.

She mumbled curses she’d heard her father say in Romani whenever she got in trouble, the words slightly escalating when she laid them down in front of her. She stopped short when she heard Bubs laughing down the corridor when she snapped a bit louder.

“Don’t laugh at me! This is going to look stupid enough, as is. I don’t need you laughing your arse off at my expense!” She huffed indignantly.

She only heard him sober up a bit after she had attempted to tighten the braces around her shoulders a bit more. The shirt was gargantuas on her and she felt like a pansy trying to tuck it all the way in, only giving up halfway. The trousers pooled around her ankles so she had to role them up, hoping Bubs wouldn’t mind. Then the braces to help keep the trousers up, didn’t even shrink enough to sit comfortably on her shoulders, so she had to hold them up as she was walking around, feeling like a mayor of an old western city in one of those cowboy movies who snapped their braces back on their chest. She felt utterly stupid.

It didn’t get any better when she walked back into the bedroom and Thomas didn’t react, his eyes only widening. For what? She did not know.

——

When Bonny stepped out of the the bathroom, Thomas felt his heart stop. He took in her small frame. The sight was almost comical as she desperately tried to keep the trousers up and the sleeves falling over her hands making them look like small paws.

Even though she was drowning in the fabric, he thought she looked... cute? He couldn’t describe what it was. It was the equivalent to what Thomas imagined was the feeling of meeting an energetic puppy or the excitement of a child when they get handed some liquorice.

Thomas smiled, a small smile. She was cute.

It was another thing to add to the list of things she was and he wasn’t.

The silence ebbed on. Thomas could only stare. She could only stare back.

Thomas’ mouth twitched a bit. He broke out into boyish sniggers as she stared back unimpressed.

She put her hands on her hips, “oh yeah, laugh it up, I’m sure it’s s- Oh!” Her hands flashed like a light to the trousers that were so close to falling down again, now that she’d let go of the braces.

The action only made Thomas laugh harder.

“Are you done?” She raised an eyebrow as he wiped his eyes and sobered up a but. Nodding his head as he recovered.

“Here, let me help you.” He made his way towards her, Dorothy only pushed his hands away: “I’ve already tried that! They don’t tighten anymore!”

Thomas didn’t say anything as he grabbed the strap of the braces and wove the strap in on itself to make a knot on her shoulder, then doing the same with the other. Dorothy’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and tapped her head.

“There we go. Much better.” He patted her shoulders and stepped back, seemingly proud with his work. “Now, back to bed. I have some questions and you need to answer them.”

Dorothy’s stomach dropped. She knew this was coming. She’d have to talk about it eventually.

Sighing, she sat on the bed, Thomas sat in the chair next to the bed. Dorothy half missed him sitting closer, but she didn’t say anything.

——

“So what’s all this then? Why am I finding you in the middle of the streets, face first in the cobbles? Eh” Thomas leaned back expectantly, making sure he had full control of the situation.

Dorothy knew that keeping secrets from friends was the best way of losing a friend. But she was equally terrified that by telling Bubs the truth, that he’d bugger off and not want anything to do with her.

The guilt would have been immense, though.

“I have low blood pressure... something like that, I think.” Dorothy stared down at the quilted blanket, doing the tapping thing with her hands again.

“Ok. And why couldn’t you get food on the table since the last time I saw you?” He leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowed a bit.

Dorothy cringed at the bluntness of his questions, “couldn’t afford it.”

“But you work at the bakery, does that not source an income?” His gaze pierced into the side of her head, she refused to look at him.

“Mama needed it...” he voice even quieter now.

“Is she sick?”

Dorothy nodded her head, she pulled her lips into a tight line and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think about her home life.

Thomas knew this was a sensitive subject for her - hell, this whole conversation was -, he understood the feeling of watching family members fall apart and whither away right before your eyes.

“Where ‘bouts do you live?”

The pause lasted longer than Thomas liked, he feared the worse, “she has a home, right?”

“Hampton Lane.” Her answer was honestly worse than being homeless, in Thomas’ opinion.

Hampton Lane has a wide expanse of whore houses, anyone who lived on that street were whores themselves or drunks.

Thomas’ chest tightened. Before he could ask the dreaded question, she answered it quickly, “I’m not a whore though! I promise! Never done anything of the sort!” She shook her hands in front of his face, desperately pleading that he didn’t think her to be like that.

“So your poor blood pressure, what does that do?” She thanked him for changing the subject.

“Makes me light headed easily n’ other stuff like tha’” her voice croaked as the inner turmoil seeped out of her.

“What other stuff?”

“Tinnitus, n’ that.”

Thomas had heard of tinnitus. Men in the war quite often got diagnosed with it after hearing the shells go off so many times, it became white noise.

Thomas connected the dots, “s’that why you’re always humming, and put records on?”

She smiled a bit at the fact he’d noticed. It was weird, but it showed that he cared.

Thomas patted his knees and stood up, checking his pocket watch, noticing how much time had passed.

“You look exhausted out of your wits, I’ll leave you to sleep and then tomorrow, we can see how you look.” Dorothy smiled, as he left and closed the door behind him.

As she heard him walking down the stairs, she thought of the way the warmth left the room as he trotted further away from her.

She settled down under the covers and closed her eyes, welcoming sleep as it wrapped itself around her eyes.

——

ANOTHER ONE DONE!!!

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 14

“How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?”

Masterlist

Sunshine all the time makes a desert.

While Dorothy slept soundly and heavy in the bed upstairs. Thomas sat for hours on the sofa, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He racked his brain with ideas on everything to do with Bonny.

He thought about where she lived.

He thought about why she lived there.

He thought about how she could live there and still be the Bonny that he knows.

He thought about her, and her stature.

He thought about how he didn't notice straight away.

He thought about the fact that he could just ask around and get her name.

He thought about how doing that could break her trust in him.

And finally, he thought about how to help her.

Thomas had never cared so deeply for someone that wasn't his family. If he was honest, it scared him.

He knew that by getting out of her life, she'd be safe, but he had to be - nay, needed to be selfish.

He needed her.

The night drifted on and Thomas found himself wavering in and out of consciousness.

His body aching to go upstairs and check on her.

It was only when the clock on the mantle struck 2:00 did he push himself off the sofa and stumble up the stairs, his bones aching and his joints creaking with strain.

He opened the slightly ajar door and peeked round.

She was curled up into a tight ball that he doubted could possibly be comfortable. She had her curls strewn over her face, the fringe falling about haphazardly. Thomas knew that if she were awake she'd find herself fussing with the placement of it on her forehead.

Creeping in a bit further, he sat down on the chair next to her bed and just looked at her. Taking in her frame, although she was shrouded by the loose clothes, which Thomas could still not get over, she still looked deathly thin and pale.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and smiled slightly.

"This is kind of creepy." Thomas thought to himself, only now catching the fact that he'd been just watching her while she slept.

He got back up and stiffened when a floorboard groaned under his foot.

His eyes darted back to her, he saw her face scrunch up, she dipped her head so her nose was touching her knee. Thomas was baffled by the fact that she could sleep like that and still move her head the next morning.

Maybe she was cold? Thomas didn't know. The only logical thing he could think to do was to take the spare blanket and put it over the duvet that she was sleeping under.

Thomas didn't know if it was the warmth that stopped her shaking or the extra weight, but he sighed in relief when her shaking subsided.

He left the room again, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Going back down the stairs, back to his whiskey, to waste the night away and think about his Bonny.

——

Thomas had not realised that he'd fallen asleep when he woke up that morning to the sound of shuffling upstairs.

For a brief moment he panicked before remembering the events of the previous night.

He cracked his neck and pretended to make himself look busy or lost in thought as he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. He pretended not to notice her, though he did twitch a bit when the sound briefly stopped.

Though it was followed by the sound of feet slamming down the stairs. Thomas thought she had fallen down the stairs, but was pleasantly surprised when two arms wrapped around his shoulders before he could turn around.

"Good morning!" She rasped excitedly in his ear, squeezing him tight.

Thomas froze. He, for one, was definitely not used to this kind of physical contact. Any physical contact for that matter.

But surely, he found himself relaxing back, "mornin' Bonny. I see you've slept well."

She came around the side of the sofa and sat down next to him, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes, "yep!"

She settled back down and with that, they settled into silence.

"You hungry?" She peeked over at him.

"You must be very hungry, I imagine." Thomas  waved off her question, annoyingly.

"Maybe I am, but you must be hungry."

"If you're hungry then I can go raid the kitchen for food?"

These two were honestly useless. Couldn't make their minds up for shit. If anyone else was there, they surely would have stormed out and made the decision for them.

Huffing at the fact they were getting nowhere, Dorothy stood up, grabbing Thomas' arm and trying her best to pull him up. To which Thomas responded by staring back up amusedly as she feebly attempted to lift the weight of a fully grown man.

"For gods sake, man. Help a girl out!" She squealed when he suddenly jumped up and she lost her balance, still gripping onto his arm.

She shut her eyes as Thomas' arm jerked back and pulled her back up, steadying her, he chuckled mockingly at her.

Once she had recovered, she slapped him on the chest, "meanie!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow at her language and tutted teasingly.

"Right, food it is then. I'll see what I can steal from your kitchen. You must be starvin'!" She marched off determinedly in the direction she hoped was the kitchen

Thomas only watched her walk away, very confused. Wasn't she supposed to be hungry? Isn't that how this works?

Following her into the kitchen as she opened cupboards and tried to find some ingredients to use.

"Go on then, sit down. I'll be done in a jiffy!" She waved over towards the table.

"Yes dear." Thomas chuckled mockingly, to which Dorothy let out a small giggle.

"Aha!" She smiled at the box of oats that she'd found..

Thomas watched her as she fiddled around at the stove, watching her movements as she hummed quietly to herself.

Even though the two were nothing, not even close to a couple, they both shared brief moments of domesticity around each other.

——

Thomas was lost in his thoughts as a bowl was placed down in front of him. A bowl of porridge.

Thomas hated porridge.

He remembered when he was younger and they could barely put anything on the table, for ages, all he could eat was porridge. Plain, bland porridge. It reminded him of when eating was a privilege, not a right.

Thomas hated porridge.

He stared at the bowl with a frown until Dorothy sat in front of him and leaned on her hands on the table, tilting her head up at him.

"Where's your bowl?" Thomas furrowed his eyebrows.

"There was only enough for one portion, so I just made one for you." Dorothy shrugged.

"You haven't eaten anything in three days, Bonny." Thomas frowned at her. He pushed the bowl in her direction.

"Yeah but that's alright. I'm not going to waltz into your home, sleep in your bed AND eat your food. That would be very rude of me."

"It's also rude to refuse food when it's offered to you." Thomas pointed back at her.

"Is this going to become a routine, Bubs?" She slumped out of her chair.

Thomas quirked an eyebrow at her as she dug into a draw and pulled out another spoon.

Thomas understood what she was getting at and chuckled lightly to himself, "we're never gonna eat a full meal at this rate." She shook her head.

Thomas noticed that she hadn't made a move to eat anything yet, and glanced up at her, she only gestures to the bowl saying, "go on, give it a try! I saw the way you looked at it earlier, but I believe I can convince you." She waited impatiently.

Thomas only took a bit on the spoon, he tried his best not to grimace at the mush, but his eye twitched, just a bit.

He decided it was best to just get it over and done with then eat a few more and make sure she ate the rest.

Thomas shoved the spoon in his mouth and for a second he just let the mush sit there.

Thomas, to say the least, was surprised. The porridge was sweeter, it was thick, it was smooth and it confused him.

He swallowed the food and put his spoon down. Dorothy leaned forward expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?" Thomas could only gush before he stopped himself.

Dorothy leaned back in her chair and smiled smugly. Dorothy didn't have a big ego but she knew where her talents lay, and she, without a doubt, could make anything taste sweet and good if she tried.

"So let me guess, you're an aspiring chef, going for the big leagues?" Thomas picked up her spoon and gestured for her to take it.

Dorothy dug the spoon into the sweet porridge, "would you believe me if I told you I was a horrible cook?" She grinned before scooping the food to her mouth, "I'm only really ok at sweet treats, never had much experience cooking n' that. But I do think I hold the world record for spreading lard on toast."

Thomas let out a small laugh and picked up his spoon again, surprisingly going for another spoonful. Dorothy only grinned and went back to eating.

Thomas thought of the taste of lard. He remembered it when that's maybe all he could get if he wanted something on his bread in the morning.

Thomas hated lard.

It was only then that Thomas leaned back and thought of Dorothy's situation. He hated it.

He didn't pity the woman because that's not what needed to be done. He didn't find it endearing that she needed his help last night. He didn't like the fact that she was so overwhelmingly caring that the idea of feeding herself first, even though she had not eaten in three days, was a preposterous idea. He didn't like that she refused to back away when she realised who he was, she only seemed more comfortable.

Dorothy seemed lost in thought, just as much as he was.

"What's on your mind?" Thomas took another mouthful and leaned back.

Dorothy shrugged, "there's something very important in human bonds that relates to eating. See, I read a book on it a while ago, it's a very primitive thing, eating communally. The logic behind it is that when a person feels comfortable in the environment they're in, they feel safe to eat. People only eat when they know they can put their head down to chew and not get it bitten off. There's just something lovely about small intimate things that we do in our day to day that no one thinks about."

Thomas mulled over her words and found himself agreeing with what she had said.

Nodding his head slowly, "you read a lot then?"

Thomas lit a cigarette as she finished the last spoonful of porridge, "I try my best to read as much as I can to educate myself. After having to leave school, I found that I wanted to learn more. I want to do so many things, Bubs. I want to become a photographer. I want to be what history will call an intellectual. I want to live and be. I know I will not amount to much, cosmically. But maybe, just maybe; if I could change someone's life, for the better; then I know, I will not have lived in vain."

Dorothy stared off into the distance before seemingly snapping back and smiling sheepishly at the information she'd just very unintentionally shared.

Thomas liked her small rambles, it made him want to listen and engage in the conversation. She made him talkative, and he thought he liked it.

"An intellectual then, huh?" Thomas smiled fondly at her. Thomas wanted her dreams to come true.

He'd be lying if he said that he didn't already have plans to help her achieve them.

——

ANOTHER ONE IN THE BAG.

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 15

“I wish you well on your pursuit of being.”

Masterlist

He looked at her

The way she needed to be looked at

Like the whole world could crumble

And he wouldn't blink.

After Dorothy cleared away the bowl and spoons, she turned to Thomas, "well, I best be heading off then. You've got a business to run, Bubs. Doubt that you'd want to waste anymore time here?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Waste! Waste?" Thomas thought. "How could any of this be a waste?"

"Nah. Besides, I want to make sure you don't go falling over when I'm not looking. At least not 'til the end of the day."

Dorothy, if she was honest, had no desire to leave. So without any fight, she only grinned and strutted off to the living room.

She plopped down on the sofa and got herself comfortable, "you're lucky it's my day off, Bubs. Or Ms P would have wrung my neck.

"Not to mention it's my Sunday off. I don't have my camera with me, so you're stuck with my incessant rambles."

Thomas didn't mind. He rather liked her rambles. They kept him out of his head.

"Well, I doubt you'd actually want to be outside anyway. Looks like rain's coming." He gestured out of the window to the blustery weather.

Thomas liked the fact that he had her to himself for the day. Just a day to escape and enjoy life. With her. His Bonny.

——

The two talked continuously as the day moved ever closer to night. They hadn't moved an inch off the sofa, except the two of them leaning in towards each other as time wore on.

Dorothy now sat with her legs, thrown over his lap, as he rested his hands on the trousers she was wearing.

"Y'know what? I rather like the trousers. I think it would do me good to find some women's trousers to wear. Would make clear-out day a helluva lot easier."

Thomas thought for a moment and nodded. He liked the trousers on her, she looked nice with them on.

——

"So anyway, I told him to fuck right off! I wasn't having any o-."

"Did you just curse?" Thomas leaned closer, chuckling at her in disbelief.

Thomas never thought he'd hear her curse. She looked far too doe-eyed and innocent for that.

"Yes... what about it?" She squinted her eyes at him.

"Oh no nothing. I just thought you'd be too good and kind hearted for all that, but I've learnt not to be surprised by any of your plot twists."

"You can be a good person with a kind heart and still tell people to fuck off when needed, Bubs."

Thomas nodded his head, satisfied with her answer.

——

It was now mid-afternoon, the house had gotten slowly more chilly without the two noticing, so now they were curled up quite close to each other, trying to preserve body heat.

Thomas had his arm around the back of the sofa which she leaned her head on. Her knee was touching his thigh as she curled closer.

Dorothy yawned slightly. She definitely was not used to this much social interaction in one day. She thought Bubs was great, but all the talking really took the energy out of her.

Thomas raised an amused eyebrow, "tired?" He cocked his head, mockingly.

"Alright, just 'cause you don't sleep, doesn't mean the rest of us have to be practically narcoleptic." She glared back at him.

Thomas only cracked a grin.

Dorothy, quite suddenly got up and headed straight for the bookcase. She scanned the shelves for one that interested her or one she had already read.

She pulled out an old book that was dog eared around the corners and had the spine crackling at the sudden movement.

Thomas didn't question her, he only watched her movements. It seemed she had a lightbulb moment in her head when she scanned the cover.

"'The pursuit of being.'" She smiled at the book.

The title reminded Thomas of a conversation they'd had earlier.

——

"Is your goal to have a purpose, Bubs?" She sniffed quietly.

Thomas didn't honestly know the answer. He supposed he was looking for purpose, or the things that came with it more like.

Money, power, whiskey sours, sex. The important things that made him strive for purpose.

"I suppose, why do you ask?"

"The pursuit of being always baffled me." She put a hand on his arm, Thomas now looked her in the eye, "look, years from now, you will find all the things you held dear, were all trivial to the core.

"All those silly little things you cared about meant nothing. And the naïve quest for perfection was a giant fucking waste of time. So I don't know, Bubs." She sighed a bit, and patted his arm before retracting her hand, "I wish you well on your pursuit of being."

Thomas didn't know what to say. He had no idea where that came from. Dorothy had never said anything like that.

"You speak from experience?" Thomas cautioned a bit.

"You can't change things by loving them harder, Bubs."

——

The nature of that conversation startled him. It seemed that the more he spent time with her: The more sides he saw.

Ever since she had opened up the night before, their conversations ran deeper and darker.

Though Dorothy never lost her innocent charm that she carried.

It seemed that she decided that being cold and stand-off-ish by the things she'd been through was pointless and only caused worse suffering.

Thomas admired her for that. To take ones demons and turn them into a lesson, an example; is something he couldn't do with his.

Dorothy sat back down with the book, only this time, she placed a pillow in his lap and laid her head down on it. Wriggling a bit to get settled.

"Comfortable?" Thomas peered down again her, amusedly.

"Very." She hummed.

Dorothy went to work with reading the book aloud. Thomas rested one hand across the back of the sofa and the other one, he took to fiddling with her hair. She didn't seem to mind as long as he didn't pull her curls out.

"I grew those curls myself, thank you very much! I'll have no one ruin them!" He remembered her stating earlier.

It seemed after a while, she got a bit tired as her arms slumped a bit and her words got a bit lazier and slow.

Without warning, Thomas plucked the book from her hands and took it in his own, he picked up reading from where she stopped.

The two didn't exchange any more words than the ones Thomas was reading. The atmosphere was very peaceful and mind meltingly warm.

Dorothy shifted a bit, she turned on her side and faced Thomas. He didn't say anything.

As time wore on, she found herself leaning closer to his warmth. Very soon her nose was nuzzling his abdomen, she was slightly bleary eyed and Thomas almost, almost cooed at her.

Thomas had now taken to clutching the book with one hand and using the other to rub the centre of her back, slowly.

It was something he remembered his mother did when he couldn't sleep at night.

It put weights on his eyelids, showing him constellations of pin-pricked-porcupines, dipping their quills into ink bottles, writing 'sorry' letters for all the wishes they couldn't grant.

It wasn't before long that he heard small kitten snores coming from under the book. Thomas also found his eyes dropping slightly.

He leaned forward carefully, placing the book on the coffee table.

He shifted a bit so he was lying down a bit more.

"This is getting very close. Almost too close." Thomas thought. But Thomas didn't care.

He realised that here, he was going to be selfish. This was his Bonny and it was going to stay that way. He'd keep her safe. He'd keep her close. He was scared that if he let her go then she'd fly away. To a great mind, nothing is little; and though she was small in stature, she made up for it in all the ways that mattered. A heart three times too big for her chest.

Thomas, with those thoughts, shut his eyes slowly, and drifted off to the land of Nod. Thinking of his Bonny.

——

I WARNED YOU THIS SHIT WAS FLUFFY.

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 16

“You have shoes that need lacing up and you don’t know how to tie a shoelace?”

Masterlist

Mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth.

Teeth dripping lead,

And lips bleeding red.

Lashes curled for war,

Onyx armour for my eyes.

Tongue waxing lyrical

Of both beauty and battle cries.

Dorothy awoke to the immediate smell of coal, smoke and whiskey. It reminded her of the days when she hung around the cut with her friends as they smoked and drank. Though she didn't, she enjoyed the memory all the same.

It reminded her of the smell of the meadows on a rainy day. It reminded her of the days when you walked past the factories and listened to the sound of the men working. It reminded her of peace. It reminded her of home.

Dorothy, still in her bleary warm state, nuzzled closer to the smell, digging her nose into the gorgeous scent.

It was only when she heard the sound of amused chuckling did her brain decide to start waking up.

Dorothy felt a hand draped around her waist, holding her back and another on the back of her head, stroking her hair slowly.

"You alright there, Bon Bon?"

Dorothy still didn't open her eyes, only snuggling closer to the bed warm feeling that she had.

"Mhmm. 'Mells nice" her voice had a slight lisp which Thomas found himself cooing at.

"That was so fuckin' cute." Thomas' mind screamed at him.

"Thank you, very kind." Dorothy could hear the teasing in his voice.

It was only when her mind caught up with her did she snap her eyes open.

She slowly lifted her head to look up at the voice, and seeing Bubs' face, only inches away from hers gave her a bit of a fright, "Jesus H Christ!" Dorothy's head jolted back, her body falling with her, it was only when she felt the feeling of falling did she realise the full extent of their positions.

Before she fell too far, the arm on her back and her crown, stiffened slightly and she stopped falling a bit, it was a bit useless though because she was already halfway down, though she appreciated the attempt.

It was only when she heard the howl of laughter did she fall completely as the grip on her back softened and she fell to the floor with an "oomph."

"Ah shit, Bonny!" Thomas cackled with laughter, his head thrown back, "I didn't mean to let go of you!" Thomas continued to belt out long roars of laughter and soon Dorothy found herself laughing as well.

After they had finally sobered you, Dorothy wiped her eyes, giggling slightly, "what's the time, Bubs?"

"Uhhh, 6:30." Thomas soon found himself dreading the fact that she was going to have to leave soon.

He knew he could see her again, of course. But a part of him still told him to let her go. She would be safer without him. But Thomas Shelby was nothing if not selfish.

And Bonny was his. And Thomas did not share.

"Ah, well I should probably get a move on!" Dorothy also found herself a bit melancholy about the fact that she had to leave this small house of bliss and peace. Though she knew she'd see Bubs again. They were friends still, right?

She didn't care who he was.

"I'll walk you back then, don't want you toppling down Hampton Lane. People might get the wrong idea seeing you passed out in the streets." Thomas tried to convince her.

"You don't need to walk me, I'm very capable, I'll have you know. But I'll let you just because I like you so much." Dorothy grinned stubbornly.

Thomas would never admit it, but his heart swelled a bit at her words.

"Ah. I just realised how weird it's going to be, walking home like this." She gestured to her attire.

"Here, I'll give you my coat so no one will notice, hopefully."

Dorothy stared outside and saw the blustery wind, "I don't think so, have you seen how cold it is out there? I'm not letting you get wind chill burns or nothin'"

Thomas, apparently, didn't care about her concerns as he took his coat off the hook and draped it over her shoulders. He sat down and tied his boots, glancing up at Bonny, she stared down at him confusedly.

"Something on me face?" Thomas quirked.

"I've never figured it out.”

"Figured our what?"

Dorothy smiled sheepishly and looked at her feet, "how to tie laces..." she traced the patterns on the floorboards with her sock clad foot.

"Isn't that like the first thing you girls are taught in school? Like sewing n' shite?"

Dorothy's glare at the floor deepened, "you think I listened to that stuff? Let alone attended?" She grinned at him, rather proud of her childhood rebellion.

Thomas only shook his head, "I'll have to teach you sometime then." Thomas patted his thighs and stood up, he stared at Dorothy, she stared back, confused.

"What?"

"Where are your shoes?"

"I thought you had them."

"Oh they're upstairs."

Dorothy darted up the stairs, tripping slightly on the second step.

When she stormed back down the stairs, she leaned against the wall to slip on her small shoes. Thomas noted they had laces holes on them.

"You have shoes that need lacing up, and you don't know how to tie a shoelace? So you're only logical solution was to take them out instead of learning?"

"Yep" Dorothy states, popping the 'p'.

Thomas shook his head again. Strange girl.

Once Dorothy got the heels to sit straight, she skipped over to Thomas and grabbed his hand (even though he offered his arm) and made headway for the door.

Once Thomas had locked the door and Dorothy had marvelled at the nifty contraption; she grabbed his hand and tugged him across the field, "hurry up, Bubs! The rain'll start if we're not fast enough!" Thomas finally managed to keep up with her jogging at a brisk walk.

Once they got closer to the darker side of Small Heath, Thomas pulled her closer to him, his arm now on the small of her back protectively.

"Why do we keep going weird ways down back alleys?" Thomas looked around at the slightly unfamiliar area.

"The noises. They're quieter here."

That was the only explanation Thomas got and he supposed it was either the noise of the whore houses or her tinnitus. He didn't know exactly.

After a few more weird turns and one fence, they finally reached a doorstep with a battered door and a worse for wear door frame.

Without warning, the door flung open, "Ah sweetheart, there yer are! Darcy's in th-. Is that Thomas Shelby, Sweetness?"

Dorothy shrunk into herself a bit at the question, "yeah, Bu-Thomas, meet my dad, dad meet Thomas." She winced at her slip up.

Dorothy didn't like calling him Thomas.

Thomas didn't like her calling him Thomas.

"You two friends?" Dorothy's father smiled widely at his daughter. Seemingly not deterred by the fact he was a Shelby, only that his daughter had someone other than Ms. P.

"Yeah, Dad."

He threw open the door fully,"Well invite him in then. Tonight's a night of celebration!"

——

A slightly shorter one!

I'm thinking that when this book is done, I'll start a one shots book series of Thomas and Dorothy in different scenarios that I couldn't put in this one. So please, please, PLEASE send in some cool scenario ideas I can put them in. I want to get a list going so you can get a taste of it all!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback is always welcome.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 17

“A dinner of bread and butter makes the world go round.”

Masterlist

Watch carefully,

The magic that occurs,

When you give a person,

Just enough comfort,

To be themselves

Upon entering the quaint house, Thomas observed the room, he saw the cobwebs clouding the corners, he saw the peeling wallpaper where there was even wallpaper. The bricks, had no paint over them and had holes in them.

The furniture was slim to none and every room apart from the bedrooms and bathrooms, it would seem, all became one room.

Thomas noticed how he never left the cold temperature from outside, there was no fire lit and there seemed to be a draft gliding over his feet and past his ankles.

Before Thomas could fully absorb the contents of the house, he heard a squeal from his side as Dorothy, who he didn't realise was still holding his hand, let go and ran towards the armchair across the room, "Mama!" She charged for a creaky old armchair that didn't look to comfortable.

Occupying the chair was a pale woman whose face seemed long and drawn in on itself. She had bruises under her eyes that looked like they'd been there for years. She looked fragile like crumbling wood or an empty old house.

"You're awake! You're out of bed!" Dorothy tackled the lady gently in a hug.

Thomas notes that the woman had curly hair just like Bonny's, but Bonny had the same dirty blonde hair colour as her father. Thomas assumed this was Bonny's sick mother.

Bonny had seemingly forgot about her fathers or Thomas' presence. Thomas only stared at the girl as she chatted enthusiastically at her tired mother, who appeared to be, though sick, very happy at her daughters presence.

Thomas was clapped on the back, "Right then, they'll be there for hours, them. Want a drink?" Bonny's father was apparently not fazed by the gangster in his house. In fact, he was rather welcoming.

"Wouldn't want to intrude." Thomas bowed his head a bit to be respectful. He didn't usually do this, but with the importance of Bonny in his life, he wanted to make a good impression.

"Ah, none of that. Ya can stay for one drink! Today's a day of celebration, Darcy's getting better! Ain't been a day like this in months!" Bonny's father stalked off somewhere and Thomas went back to his thoughts.

"Months? It's been like this for months?" Thomas could only think of what his Bonny had been dealing with all this time.

He found himself angry. Not at her, but at the world. How could the universe treat a girl like her so poorly? How could the universe not put food on the plate of the wise; or not the race to the swift; or the wealth to the hard-workers?

"And who's this young lad in my home, Poppet?" Bonny's mum peered over her shoulder.

Dorothy gasped and clapped her hands. She rushed over to Thomas and pulled him by the forearm towards her mother.

"Bubs-err-Thomas, this is my mother, Mama, this is Thomas." Dorothy once again winced at her words.

"Call me Darcy." She nodded her head in Thomas' direction, not shaking his hand. He assumed it was for fear of spreading something rather than his name, so he didn't take it personally.

"Call me Tommy." Thomas nodded back.

"So how did you two meet? You've never brought any friend home? Not even your old mate Matilda." Darcy inquired.

"Ah, well you see mum..."

Dorothy went on to tell the story of how they had met, leaving out the gun to her face, of course.

Once her father had come back through with a bottle of rum and cracked it open, the conversation flowed more, though Bonny didn't drink, it didn't stop her from banging on about how she came to meet Thomas.

Darcy had a fond smile on her face as Dorothy made big enthusiastic gestures. Dean, her fathers name, had also leaned forward in the conversation, just happy at the atmosphere.

Thomas only leaned back with his glass, laughing along to the story and memories of the past few weeks. He found himself at peace again. This was a family home, and it felt so warm and homely despite no fire lit. The family was just warm and put together.

Thomas loved it.

"-so in other words, first and second impressions of dear Tommy, were horrendous and it was only the third time when I decided he was no longer and arsehole!" Dorothy finished the story with a wide grin.

Darcy threw her head back in bliss and jubilance as her daughter retold the tale.

Thomas also found himself bent over laughing, "me? An arsehole? I've never been so insulted!" Thomas put a mocking hand on his heart. The family only laughed harder at the antics of the two.

"Ah, look at the time. I better go to make some food for everyone!" Dorothy stood up, patting down her new trousers, the story of which Thomas laughed the hardest at.

"Oh yes, I should be going then." Thomas stood up abruptly, gathering his senses as he momentarily fell out of the warm family bubble.

"You won't stay?" Darcy stared up at him, a small smile on her face.

"Oh come on, son. You can't bail on us now. We've still got the rest of the evening to go!" Dean chuckled and stood next to Thomas.

Thomas often found that the term, "son" directed towards him to be a death wish, but in this moment, in this home: He was not Thomas Shelby. He was Tommy. He was Bubs. He was not a killer or gangster or anything that was said about him outside these walls.

Dorothy throughout the whole exchange had said nothing. Thomas decided that maybe it was okay to stay for a meal then head off.

"What we got then, Da?"

"Ah! Y'know what? I think we 'ave some butter?" Dean called from the living area.

"Bread 'n butter it is." Dorothy sighed.

"Y'know what they say, a dinner of bread and butter makes the world go round!"

"No one says that, Da."

Casual conversation resumed while Dorothy was shuffling around in the kitchen area. Thomas found that the married couple in front of him were a bit in their own world so he decided to go see what Bonny was doing.

Stalking into the kitchen, he found Bonny sifting through a cupboard filled with random food items. She pulled out a very small block of butter and a loaf of bread.

She examined the bread in comparison to the butter and got out a tin of lard as well.

Thomas watched from the corner, Bonny, seemingly in her own world, humming quietly.

Thomas now recognised some of the songs she sang. He recalled his mother singing them to him when he couldn't sleep at night. They were in Romani, and the words flowed together like a birdsong.

Dorothy cut up a few large pieces of bread and put them over the stove tray.

Though she only put three on, she got to work with separating the butter, after realising that maybe it won't be enough, she whined quietly, a sound Thomas heard like a stab to the heart. He still did not move.

After the bread was toasted she quickly took to taking the hot coals and trying to extract what was left with her tongs and put them quickly back in the large tin next to the stove.

She tried melting the butter a bit to help it spread and it seemed to work a bit, but she still didn't have enough.

With what was left, she mixed the softened butter with some of the lard and spread it on the third piece of toast and with the last, she just placed lard on it.

"It'll have to do..." He heard her mumble.

"Foods ready!" Dorothy called behind her. Dean and Darcy shuffled over to the very small table with only three chairs. Dean had an arm around Darcy's waist, though she was using him for support, it was clear she was also just happy to be in the arms of her husband again.

Dorothy looked around, trying to find another chair or stool.

As she brushed past Thomas, he grabbed onto her arm and pulled her close, "you could just share a seat with me, you had no problem doing it earlier." Thomas smirked teasingly at her. He saw the opportunity and took it without hesitation.

Dorothy only huffed our a laugh and smacked his shoulder while Thomas only grinned at her.

She came back with a very un-sturdy looking stool and perched on it.

The family got to work eating, Thomas noted that Dorothy gave her father the butter and lard piece of toast, which he didn't seem to mind and gave herself the lard one. Thomas only sighed, he knew how stubborn she was with this stuff.

Conversation stated back up as Dorothy leaned closer into Thomas' side and he steadied an arm on the back of the slightly rocking stool to keep her stable.

Thomas found himself thoroughly enjoying the night and just having fun. Something that he really hadn't had for a while. Thomas rued the day that all this would ever have to end. But for now, he kept these moments locked safe and close.

Because it was pleasant. It was nice. And she was perfect.

——

FAMILY FEEELS

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 18

What goes up must always come back down again.

Masterlist

She wasn't doing a

Singlething I could

see, except

Standing there,

Leaning on the

Balcony railing,

Holding the

Universe together.

Though the night was long and loud, it was also too short for comfort and boisterous. Thomas and Dorothy both walked away from each other with bowed heads, regretting instantly that they ever parted.

They both knew that it wouldn't be the end of their companionship, but leaving each other made it painful, if just for a few hours.

Darcy found the Shelby man charming and respectful. Dean saw him a man with no ill intent, only guilty of rumours.

Thomas walked away and found that the house felt more homely than the one he occupied.

Thomas hated small spaces, but for the first time, that small space was comforting and warm. For the briefest second as he sat in that kitchen, he let his mind wonder, he thought of his mother, and he saw her smile. He allowed himself that thought and treasured it for the rest of the night.

Only making it all the more sweet as he felt his mothers smile on his conscience.

The night went off without a hitch. The dinner continued as Dorothy asked about Deans day and he joked of his unemployment.

Dorothy only grimaced what she thought to be a smile at the joke. Her father had been unemployed due to having to look after his wife. Originally, Dorothy was going to stop working but after examining the income, they found that she was the main breadwinner of the family.

The night continued on as Thomas recounted stories from his childhood, he hoped that the more he spoke of old times the more he could figure out his Bonny.

He was aching to know her name, but out of respect he didn't look too deeply. The parents never once gave her name, only sweet pet names reserved for daughters.

As Thomas got up and decided that he'd best head back, Bonny was engrossed in conversation with her mother. Dean clapped him on the back and walked him to the door, chatting quietly as they walked and stood there for a few minutes, waiting for Bonny to come through the door to bid him goodbye.

——

Dorothy awoke tiredly, the events of the night before were tiring as she'd stayed up til the early hours of the morning, thinking of Bubs and how he just fell into the comfort of her home.

She left the house with thoughts of her Bubs as she made her way to the bakery, prepared to start the day.

——

It was safe to say that the day did not go as well as it could have. Though forever the undying optimist, even Dorothy struggled to see the light of her day.

Ms. P had come down with a terrible case of flu- or worse.

The bakery had become infested with rats, meaning all the produce was ruined and they had to close it for a few days as they gathered the money to get the problem removed.

Next, she finds out that the boys who had stolen from her the other week had been running around again after, in her opinion, very stern talking to.

And lastly to end the day she learns that her father had found work.

Now usually that probably would have been good. She was ecstatic at first. But when she found out that it was to be a part of Thomas' up and coming business; it was safe to say she almost stuck her fingers in her eyes.

Her father had desperately tried to explain that he was tending to the money banks, no razor gang stuff. He pleaded that she saw the desperate state they were in and that they SURELY needed the money.

But Dorothy was overcome with a sense of bubbling anger. She stomped out of her house in a fit of blind rage. She couldn't quite work out who she was angry at, but first she needed a walk.

Maybe she would have given in to the idea, had she not come across the one Shelby man she didn't want to see.

Though she was angry, she had no desire to lash out or hurt anyone, so she tried her best to keep marching. Though she forgot that the two had a habit of late night meetings so there was no way of him not seeing her.

"Bonny?" She heard a small smile in his voice. Had this been any other situation, she probably would have squealed and pulled him into a hug prodding for a story or the inner workings of his mind.

Dorothy kept on walking, at least she planned to. She planned to until her forearm was grabbed and she was rugged to a standstill.

"Where're you off to at this hour, eh?" Thomas chuckled, no quite noticing her foul mood, "'m I gonna find you in the middle of the streets again?"

"What do you want?" Dorothy snapped at him. Very out of character.

Thomas blinked slowly, only now recognising the look of anger on her face. "What's this all about then, huh?" He tugged her a bit closer.

He was trying his best to be close to her, he didn't know why he wanted it, but he just felt safe when she was in his arms or her hand on his. Something close. Something meaningful.

"Oh I don't know!" She three her hands in the air, forcing Thomas to let go of her, "maybe it was the fact that I came home today, from a VERY hard day at work, only to find out my father has signed his death warrant away to your administration. At this rate, dad's gonna be dead before Mama."

Dorothy only blinked at her words, so blinded by her rage that seeing red turned into dark stormy colours that clouded her vision.

She was worried for her father and his safety, Thomas got that, "Look, he's going to be protected, as a matter of fact, your whole family will be protected. He won't be going around slashing people to pieces. He's very good with money so I've seen to it that he watches the books. Your father will not come to any harm while I'm looking."

He steadied his hands on her shoulders, trying to level with her.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes that had tear drop residue still sitting in between them.

"Can you promise that, Bubs? Can you promise that my father will not come under any harm while he is under the protection of Thomas Shelby?" She made sure that it wasn't the Peaky Blinders who were going to watch out for him, but Thomas himself.

"I promise. I promise that you will still have your father for as long as I can provide for you. As much as I want to Bons, I can't shield you and your family from everything, if I knew I could get a cure for your mother from Comptons chemist, I'd be down there before sunrise. If I could ever stop you from shedding another tear in your life, I would bring the sun closer to dry your eyes."

Thomas wasn't used to emotional speeches. They made him feel vulnerable. But Dorothy made him feel vulnerable, she made him relax and enjoy life. She made him able to stand himself.

After Thomas' words she only then caught up with her own. She brought a hand up to her mouth as she shed more tears, "Oh my God, Bubs. I'm so sorry!" She grabbed onto his elbows as she sobbed in front of him, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Thomas pulled her close, taking the chance to be near her, "I'm so sorry Thomas, I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry!" It was safe to say she was ugly crying now and was getting tears and all kinds of things on Thomas' shirt, but he didn't mind.

He pulled back for a second to look her in the eye after she calmed down a bit, reduced to only small sniffles now, "my Bonny-."

"Oh so I'm your Bonny now?"

"Shut up- My Bonny, you have too many smiles left in you to be sad."

Dorothy cracked a smile for the first time that evening, the final tears escaping her eyes as she still clung on to the lapels of his jacket and dug her head into his chest again.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry about your shirt. Tell you what, I've still got the shirt you leant me so I'll exchange it for the one your wearing now and I'll clean it." She didn't give him much of a choice as she grabbed his hand, still wiping her face with her other and lead him away to her house.

She called out behind her shoulder, "Don't worry! I cleaned it! I promise!"

——

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