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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.

——

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

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!!!

Thanks for the love.

All feedback is welcome.

See ya next time!

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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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 19

“Family means bullying the shit out of your silblings until they try to stab you.”

Masterlist

He stole a day dreamers heart with a handful of clouds.

Things weren't good.

But things weren't bad either.

Ever since Dean had gone to work for Thomas, Dorothy found that she could give her family more than a slice of bread or porridge for a meal. She could cater a pie once a week or maybe Toad in the Hole if she got to the butchers at the right time.

But her father, no matter what Thomas promised, could only be as safe as Thomas could afford. She didn't like the work, but she saw the upsides. Dorothy for the first time managed to get remedies from the local pharmaceutical, but that came with the price of her father being in danger.

But nonetheless, the days moved forward. It had now been around a week and a bit since the night where Dorothy invited Thomas back to her house for another night to get his newly stolen shirt for him. She'd be lying if she said she didn't miss him.

She thought about him day in and day out. She thought of the smile that she only just started being able to coax out of him more often. She thought of his warm embrace despite cold hands, that didn't really make sense but she revelled in the feeling.

——

Thomas was the same. He thought all about her, all the time. At least this time though, he was on top of his work.

He thought back to the moment when she cried her eyes out in front of him and he leant down to her level and for the first time, he looked deep into her eyes

He saw her blue/grey eyes that were harsh shades of grey with dark lines around the edges. He saw the stormy grayscale and saw an oxymoron on her face as her smile brightened the room but her eyes displayed a cold feeling to the heart.

Her pale and slightly gaunt face made her grey azures stand out among her delicate features.

"Delicate." Thomas thought. She was delicate, though he would never say it out loud to her because she would probably clap him upside the head. But she was. She was fragile in his arms and he held her together as he encircled her in his embrace.

He missed her. Terribly.

And that's why he decided to go see her.

After contemplating reasons for justifying a visit, he decided he didn't need one.

He was Thomas Shelby. He did what he wanted.

She was probably on a lunch break of sort around now.

Perfect.

——

Dorothy didn't look up when the entrance bell chimed, "Sorry, Ms. P is sick and I need to take a break to watch the ovens. Please come back in an hour, and I can serve you then!" She tried her best to be sweet about it, but if she was honest, she was tired.

She didn't actually have to watch the furnaces, it was actually her lunch break, but Dorothy didn't have lunch.

Things had been better. She tried her best to make them look better.

She decided that as gratitude, she'd try her best to make at least one full meal for her parents per day. And if by doing that, it meant that she couldn't eat a lunch, then she didn't worry. She'd eat in the evening anyway.

"Not even for me, Bons?"

Dorothy took a moment to register the voice before her head snapped up and she let out a squeal and clap at her guest.

"Bubs! Oh I've missed you!" She ran around the counter to stand in front of him.

This was really their first encounter in daylight, when any of the public could be watching. She understood that he had a hard reputation to uphold so she held back from attacking him into a tight hug and squeeze.

"I haven't seen you in a week and I don't even get a hug? The worlds truly fallen to pieces then, eh? C'mere." Thomas gestured by opening his arms, awaiting the force of her body slamming into his chest as she collided with him, momentarily winding him.

She rushed forward and embraced him in a tight hug, one that you'd give to a friend when they have to move away or when you'd just seen someone for the first time in years. It surely felt like years.

"I missed you..." Dorothy mumbled quietly, so quietly that Thomas almost missed it.

He hummed quietly in agreement, just enjoying the moment the two had together.

"Now what's all this about watching those ovens? I woulda' thought Ms. P would have at least given you a lunch break?" Thomas leaned back to look down at her.

"Don' have 'ny." Dorothy mumbled as she dug her face further into his chest, if possible, as he leaned back slightly, refusing to let go of him.

Thomas leaned forward again, chuckling a bit to himself at her actions, "I thought I paid your father enough to give you a lunch at least."

"Needed it for other things."

"Ok, well I can pay Dean more, business is getting better so 's no trou-."

"Don't give us special treatment. We're not a charity case, Bubs." Dorothy for the first time leaned out of his embrace, not fully letting go, but just enough so she could stare up and glare into his eyes to show she was at least a bit miffed.

Thomas momentarily let go of her as he held his hands up in surrender, "I know. I'm sorry! I just wanted to make things better." He hooked his arms back around her as he rested them on her back again.

"Well don't. You're doing fine just being here. Don't need none of that extra shit." She muttered back.

"So if you don't eat a lunch, when do you eat?"

"I'll eat this evening with my parents." She sighed, wanting to change the conversation, starting to walk around the counter towards the kitchen.

"Do they know you ain't eating lunch?"

Dorothy was now halfway into the kitchen and Thomas had no choice but to follow her, "what they don't know won't hurt them." She waved a hand in his direction, dismissing the conversation from going any further.

"Well we can't have that, now can we?"

"Come on. You came at the perfect time. Thought I was gonna be alone for an hour or so." She held a door open that Thomas hadn't noticed before.

Going through, he realised it was just the back entrance to the store for staff. When going out, he found crates of God knows what that hid in the alleyway of the bakery and other building. Dorothy nestled herself on one of the crates in the corner. Going one way, there was a dead end as the crates stacked so high, you couldn't get over, and the other had a clean but secluded view of the busy market in front.

Thomas sat on a crate, opposite her. It wasn't that he was worried about about people seeing him with her and having fun. He just wanted to create space so she was comfortable.

The two sat and chatted for as long as they could. Thomas laughed and sighed at all the things they talked about.

He felt like he only spent a minute in passing when she had to get back to the bakery after only an hour and a bit.

They parted ways again, Dorothy waving furiously at him as he smirked slightly, stalking away.

She went through to back door and he went down the alley, connecting once again to the market place, scaring a few unsuspecting buyers as he seemed to just have appeared out of nowhere.

His short daydream of thinking about Bonny was interrupted by his older brother clapping him on the back.

"Oh hello Tom! We's thought you'd gone wondered off. No ones been able to find you, yeah, for the past hour. My, my, I wonder what you get up to." Arthur laughed as John joined them.

"You reckon he finally got a bird, Arthur?" John 'swaggered' on their general direction.

"Aye! I do! 'E's been softer more! Reckon it's one of those pretty new barmaids!"

Thomas stayed silent through the whole exchange, rolling his eyes at his brothers assumptions and stalking off in a different direction, shaking his head slightly; trying to clear his thoughts or Dorothy.

——

It was now dinner in the Shelby household. Polly insisted that everyone came back from wherever they were living to go back to the Old Shelby household for one night for a 'family meal'.

The family crowded around the table, digging into the food. It was slightly tense at first but as soon as John and Esme arrived with booze, the happy family got back into full swing, laughs and potato's passed around the table.

Thomas, always the quiet observer, just sat and smiled occasionally. He didn't show it much, but his family knew that he was content and not brooding.

"So Thomas, when were you going to tell us, you finally had a girl?" Arthur started.

From there it only went downhill, for Thomas.

The family gasped and started speculating who she was. Only laughing in his face as his jaw clenched. He couldn't get a word in, not like he wanted to. The conversation only ended when he threw his fork, like a dart, right next to Arthur's head, clattering against the wall behind his head.

Arthur only held up his hands in mock surrender and changed the subject as Thomas glared daggers into the side of his head.

The dinner ensued all the same. Only now, the conversations were weighted with subtle jokes and prods at Thomas' love life.

He would never admit it, but he did find some of the jokes funny. Only because of the kind of girl they envisioned Thomas was supposedly with. Thomas could only laugh harder when he thought of the girl Thomas was really with.

Well he wasn't with her, was he?

Thomas froze in that moment. Maybe he wanted to be with her. Thomas smiled sheepishly to himself.

He was surely in trouble now.

——

I'm having far too much fun with this book.

I really just enjoy any kind of domestic fluff and I need MORE Shelby family fluff where everyone's just okay and happy. I NEED IT.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies Masterlist

Description

An introduction

Chapter 1- it’s a crime for a bluebell to look THAT good

Chapter 2- Maybe first impressions are overrated anyway

Chapter 3- “Are you a whore?”

Chapter 4- A second encounter that was not any better

Chapter 5- Intrigue and like are two very different things

Chapter 6- “I never called you Bonny, Bonny.”

Chapter 7- a warm hand is better than cold so let me hold yours

Chapter 8- Some secrets are better left surprises

Chapter 9- Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it did burn down in one

Chapter 10- “You can’t make a monster cookie to honour my name, Bonny.”

Chapter 11- If I cannot bend Heaven, I will Raise Hell

Chapter 12 pt.1- “The last time we were here, you put a gun to my face”

Chapter 12 pt.2- “The last time we were here, you put a gun to my face”

Chapter 13- What a plot twist she was

Chapter 14- “How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?”

Chapter 15- “I wish you well on your pursuit of being.”

Chapter 16- “you have shoes that need lacing up, and you don’t know how to tie a shoelace?”

Chapter 17- “A dinner of bread and butter makes the world go round”

Chapter 18- What goes up must always come back down again

Chapter 19- Family means bullying the shit out of your siblings until they try to stab you

Chapter 20- “Are we really going to make this into a habit?”

Chapter 21- “Maybe one day I’ll get hit by a train.”

Chapter 22- “Would you ever want to fall in love?”

Chapter 23- Hypocrisy isn’t pretty

Chapter 24- Isolation is not safety

Chapter 25- “This is karma”

Chapter 26- “I did not take you as the jealous type.”

Chapter 27- “You’ve known her for two months and you still don’t know her name”

Chapter 28- The story will always glorify the hunter until the lion learns how to write

Chapter 29- Grief and love

Chapter 30- However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light

Chapter 31- Tea and revelations

Chapter 32- “I have a soul as old as Rome”

Chapter 33- “Nostalgia is a dirty liar”

Chapter 34- Well-fed devils are better than famished saints

Chapter 35- “What does an ant on our planet know about our cities?”

Chapter 36- Tea and gossip

Chapter 37- Birth, death, the silly bit in between

Chapter 38- Human conceits

Chapter 39- “How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become?”

Chapter 40- Nothing ends poetically

Chapter 41- “You shouldn’t be here”

Chapter 42- Bastard. Selfish bastard

Chapter 43- “I don’t want to die”

Chapter 44- Peculiar people

Chapter 45- “Can you feel the love, Bubs?”

Chapter 46 pt.1- Successfully evading responsibility

Chapter 46pt.2- Successfully evading responsibility

Chapter 46 pt.3- Successfully evading responsibility

Chapter 47- The storm is strong, my dear, but we, we are stronger.

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 20

“Are we really going to make this into a habit?”

Masterlist

What good are wings without the courage to fly?

Thomas and Dorothy had both developed small habits with each other as of recent days.

For example; when the two greet each other, the following actions must occur:

1) Whoever spots the other first must make it their absolute mission to get their attention in the most subtle way possible.

2) If after three attempts to get the others attention continues to fail, that person is obligated to try and ram over the other person in a very tight hug and greeting.

3) Thomas learned the hard way that she is incredibly easy to topple over.

4) He will be more gentle next time.

Weather Thomas liked it or not (he really liked it) he always had to greet her with a hug, or at least hug her back when she initiated the embrace. No matter where or when.

Lucky for him, most of their encounters always seemed to occur in the early hours of the morning, or late nights when she'd be locking up.

There was one incident though, when Dorothy managed to catch him on the street and tackled him into a very sudden side hug. Thomas gripped her arms in what seemed a friendly way, but was really a ploy to try and move the two mid-hug into a side alley, away from public view.

Another habit they had developed was when Thomas realised that he no longer accepted only meeting her once or twice a week.

He'd never felt the need to be this close to someone as much as possible, he couldn't explain it, but he just knew he wanted it.

So it was this way that Thomas resolved to visiting her at her lunch breaks.

The first time he showed up nearly gave Ms. P

a heart attack as the Shelby man stepped through the door. She was all flustered and blubbering until Dorothy popped her head around the corner, clapping her hands as she rushed around the counter to greet him in a hug.

Ms. P was thoroughly confused when Dorothy wrapped her arms around the very dangerous man, she was even more confused and scared when he reciprocated the action.

Ms. P was perplexed, confused, bewildered, when the dangerous Shelby man rested his cheek on the top of her head as they greeted each other with names that DEFINITELY were not the correct ones.

If she furrowed her eyebrows anymore they probably would have popped off, until Thomas Shelby looked up and told Ms. P that he was going to whisk Dorothy away for the remainder of her hour and a bit long lunch break; to which Ms. P nodded, "Of course, Mr Shelby, go ahead!"

It was only moments like these when Dorothy remembered that her best friend was a very scary man and had a large amount of influence over the area she inhabited. But she did not dwell on those thoughts because she knew who he was, and that's all that mattered.

——

Thomas linked his arm with hers, something she understood he was more comfortable doing in public view.

He gently led her to the entrance of the bakery and pulled her down the streets and markets of Small Heath.

People stared, people always stared. But Thomas didn't care. Though this time he knew they'd go home and talk about it, making speculations what the two were doing together and what they were.

Dorothy knew people were watching, but she didn't particularly care. Dorothy once again forgot who the man she was walking with was. She figured they were just nice people who stayed out of the way or greeted them because they knew her and Thomas.

Thomas and Dorothy both knew most of Small Heath by name or face. Both for vastly different reasons, but it all the same, they were known for their own reasons.

People saw Thomas and they dipped their hats, muttering a quick, "Mr Shelby."

When their eyes followed on to Dorothy they'd narrows their eyes but smile a bit and say, "Miss Dotty-Anne."

This happened a few times, some people even tried to start a conversation with Dorothy, seemingly unaware of the dangerous presence of the Shelby man stood right next to her, who was desperate to whisk her away as quickly as possible to keep her to himself.

"Is Dotty-Anne your name or something?" Thomas leaned in a bit to mutter into her ear.

"No it's not. It's been my nickname for years now, though. I can't quite remember when it occurred, but I just remember Danny calling me that in school, and ever since then, it stuck... I woulda thought you would have worked it out by now with that name alone, Bubs."

"Danny Whizz-bang?"

"Is that the name he goes by now? I haven't seen him in a while, I would love to catch up."

Thomas neglected to tell her that he was 'dead' and decided now what not the time, "Miss Dotty-Anne. Can't say the name comes to mind..."

Dorothy only shrugged and leaned into him slightly, enjoying the warmth he provided.

"I prefer Bonny, though." Thomas smirked back.

She patted his arm,"Me too, Bubs, me too." That was not the answer he expected, but the one he got nonetheless.

——

As the two wondered further into the market place, they arrived at the chippy and cafes.

"What you eatin' then?" He gestured at the rows of market stalls and corner shops.

"What? Oh, sorry Bubs, I don't have any change on me. What you getting though?" She smiled up at him apologetically.

Thomas only shook his head at her and tutted lightly, "we can't have that, now can we? Tell you what, pick something and I'll buy it for you."

"No, Bubs, you can't do that! I've been around this area of the market, FAR too expensive." She waved her hands around trying her best to be serious, but that of course backfired miserably.

"I don't care. Pick something." His voice was a bit more stern and Dorothy wasn't really sure how she felt about it. She bowed her head a little and mumbled quietly.

"What was that, Bons, didn't quite catch that?" He patted his ear, teasingly.

"Never eaten at any of these, so I don't know which to pick." She looked down at her feet and swiped at a pebble as she deemed it far more interesting than whatever Thomas was trying at.

"Well I guess we'll just have to try all of them. Of course not at once. We'll work our way down the road, try and find the best one."

Dorothy perked up at the thought that there was going to be another time.

She sighed, knowing she won't get any say in trying to pay and only walked after Thomas as he made headway for the nearest shop that of which sold quiche.

——

In the end, the two, after much bickering, settled on one quiche as Thomas tried to get her a full one, but then decided he only wanted half of his one and Dorothy insisting she couldn't eat a whole one.

So now they were walking back to the bakery, a small quiche for them to share, "are we really going to make this into a habit?" He gestured at the pastry food, hinting at the fact it seemed that neither of them could eat a full meal, but demanded that the other ate a whole plate; this only resulted in them sharing one meal.

They walked to the small one way alley behind the bakery and sat on the crates again, this time Thomas sat on the opposite side of the same large crate as hers and put the quiche in between.

The two continued to bicker when Dorothy left half a slice and Thomas came an inch close to just picking it up and stuffing it in her mouth (he would have gently put it to her mouth, but the empty threat worked either way. (Yes he was slightly bummed he lost the chance to feed her, doing that thing that couples do when they're happy. Disgusting.))

The two found themselves in deep conversations about nothing and playfully fighting about mundane things like getting to the moon (Thomas was a non-believer) and weather the violin could really be considered an instrument, (Thomas, it turns out- has no ear for music, whatsoever).

Before Dorothy knew it, she had to rush back in to the bakery, giving Thomas a quick side hug and squeeze as she left. Leaving him pining for her touch one more time before he had to go back to the real world.

Her vanilla and Rose-water scent lingered beneath his nostrils as she left to go back to work.

Thomas often found himself thinking of her at night, whenever he couldn't sleep or when the mud woke him up. He thought about the idea of her curling into his side, he hoped that he could one day be that warm furnace that she always craved when she got cold. He so desperately wanted to be the thing that stopped her from practically breaking her neck as she tightened into what looked like a very uncomfortable ball. He wanted that.

Thomas quickly decided that these visits would be a daily encounter and NOTHING was going to stop him from seeing his Bonny.

With those thoughts, he went on his way.

——

This was a bit slow and kind of a filler, but I needed to write it anyway.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 21

“Maybe one day I’ll get hit by a train.”

Masterlist

Of all the sad things I've heard, "I used to be so happy" is the most heartbreaking of all.

And so their routines continued.

Every Monday through to Friday, Thomas would visit Dorothy at the bakery for her lunch break. They'd get a meal and share it, all the while exchanging opinions on topics that meant nothing and everything.

Thomas remembered one specific time where the two exchanged an incredibly vulnerable chat. Thomas begged the question-.

——

"What do you fear the most?"

Dorothy put down her fork and was silent for a moment.

"Y'know what, Bubs. I don't think I'm afraid of death. I think one day I just decided it wasn't a burden to me. I suppose after smelling death in the air for as long as I have, you learn that it always just tends to sit there. On your shoulder. On your back.

Death is not a burden, more just a train to a location that we never really know the destination to.

"I think maybe my biggest fear at the moment might be losing you." She smiled sheepishly at the ground, "you're the only friend I've had that I desperately want to stick around. I'm not afraid of you dying. No. You seem like you've been able to cheat death like a game of charades your whole life.

"My biggest fear is you'll see me one day in the market on a Tuesday morning or whatever and instead of coming over with a hug and greeting, you'll look at me and see all my flaws. My nose, my chapped lips, the way my hair never sits straight. You'll think about my random spouts of rambles and how I can't sit still. You'll think about how obnoxious I am with my stupid camera.

You wake up one day and decide that for no reason in particular, that you just don't like me anymore.

"I'm terrified that I'll stop living again. Loneliness is not a fear of mine, but not living is. I'm terrified that one day I'll go to work, you'll be gone, and I won't be living anymore. I'd hate to have been given a life by whatever deity is up there, and not live it."

Dorothy settled her hands in her lap, forgetting about the tray of food in front of her. Midway through her speech, Thomas froze and dropped his fork, neither of the two seemed to realise.

Thomas, unsure what to say, nodded and with another pause said, "I really hope nothing like that happens. I suppose I fear that as well. That one day you'll see me the way I see myself."

His words were not a declaration of his feelings, but in that moment alone, Thomas was more vulnerable than he had been his whole life. Even before the mud and picks.

Dorothy moved the tray of food out of the way, she climbed across the crate and kneeled next to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a comfortable side hug. Thomas reached to the side and wrapped his arms around her torso, leaning into her ribs and just shutting his eyes.

They stayed like that for another moment, before she pulled back and dug herself into his side, she then placed the tray on her lap and got back to eating.

Thomas picked up his fork and copied the action.

Without much thought to his words, Thomas stared abruptly, "you're incredibly straightforward, Bonny."

Dorothy smiled and chuckled a bit to herself

"I love being horribly straightforward. I love making reckless actions and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolute magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying 'hug me harder' and 'you're a good person' and 'you brighten up my day'. I live my life as straightforward as possible.

"Because one day I might get hit by a train." Thomas raised a brow at her words.

"That's right. Maybe it's weird. Maybe it's scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be- to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them whether it's your feet on their thighs on the sofa or your arms around their waist or your heart in their hands.

"But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate. And there is nothing more risky than pretending to not care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the train is coming."

Dorothy was now staring off a bit into the distance, her gaze transfixed on nothing in particular.

"That's uh-." Thomas started.

"-intense? a lot? I know. Before you came along, I had far too much time to think."

——

Their escapades of personal conversations ended for that day, but Thomas found himself thinking back to all the things she'd said. He liked her train analogy it sat well with him and he supposed in that moment he registered he fact that this girls mind goes far deeper than he imagined. She was insanely intelligent, not in a necessarily academic way, but more people smart. She understood people, maybe it was from the fact that she spent a long time just observing people.

But she kept saying those words, or they kept repeating in his head, "until you came along."

He thought about all the things that had changed for him since she'd come along.

He drank less. He frowned less. He started to smile more. He found his shoulders no longer held the tense knots that wove their way into his bone. He could finally stand himself!

It seemed that a lot had changed for her. He wasn't sure maybe what had changed, but he hoped it was good. He hoped that she was better. That she was happy. That maybe she too, could finally stand herself.

——

Dorothy and Thomas both found that they finally had something to look forward to. They woke up and stared at the clock waiting to be able to get a glimpse of each other.

But what Dorothy loved the most was Saturday nights. While most girls would probably go out to the town for a drink and dance, she probably would too except she lacked the former.

But now, she had something better than drinks and dancing. Saturday was the day where her patience was truly tested. On Saturdays, Thomas didn't visit on her lunch break, instead, he appeared in the evening and sat with her while she baked for the week. He just sat and sometimes they talked, and sometimes they sat in silence for hours; only the sound of Dorothy's quiet humming filling the air.

On the fifth week of their evening meetings, Thomas danced with her. Dorothy rifled through her collection and put on a slightly paced piece that Thomas remembered before the war.

Thomas, without much warning stood up with a slight joking groan as if his limbs ached from the sheer effort.

"C'mon Bonny, you can't put on a song like this and not expect me to ask you to dance." Thomas declared with a wide gesture which made Dorothy giggle slightly.

"Oh very well then. But I warn you, I'll show you up." She grinned cockily.

Thomas merely raised an eyebrow to challenge her, something he did quite often. Not because he doubted her, quite the contrary, but rather that he wanted to see just how far she could go.

Thomas took her hands and brought them closer to him. She put one hand on his shoulder and held his hand with hers. He rested a hand on her waist as he clutched her other hand. The two danced around the kitchen, as Thomas dipped her in the small glow of the furnace light.

She giggled each time he leant forward to support her as she leant back, he allowed the bow to go further and further until she was almost sure her back would break if she went any further, "Bubs, back up! My spine's gonna snap if you don't lift me back up!" She patted his shoulder desperately and held his hand tighter.

Thomas only tightened the hook he had around her waist and smiled with mischief in his eyes.

Finally relenting and pulling her back up to end the song.

The two parted ways when Dorothy had to take the last of the sweets out of the ovens. She had also made a habit of making extra Billion dollar  Bubs because she knew they were his favourite.

Once the night had ended and they'd eaten the extra food, a final song came on. A slow song. Thomas caught her eye with a lopsided grin and made a wild and dramatic gesture with a bow as he held his hand out for her to take.

Dorothy only shook her head as she took his hand and squealed a bit when he tugged her very close quite abruptly. Dorothy latched her arms around his neck and nestled her cheek to his chest as he attached his arms to her waist again.

She listened to his heartbeat and found it slow and relaxed. She hummed to the music feeling the tune reverberate through her ears. Thomas leaned his head forward and rested his chin on the top of her head. He sighed in content.

The two were an odd and unusual pair, but it was quickly established that the two might as well have been made for each other. She was a perfect source of warmth to his ice-like stares. He was a perfect sedative to the chaos in her mind.

The two could barely contain their anticipation for the next week or the next time they could see each other. Craving the others touch or scent or presence.

Watch carefully, the magic that occurs, when you give a person, just enough comfort, to be themselves.

——

SO MUCH FLUFF!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

The Anya-Margaret

(Thomas Shelby)

A brief description

Florence Kent.

Or should I say Dr. Florence Kent.

She is a woman well aquatinted with death. So familiar in fact, that the only obvious line of work she could go into was business with death itself.

She is a morgue worker. A diener. A pathologist. An embalmer. She does the whole lot in the downstairs of her home.

She chain-smokes and lives on a healthy appetite of cocaine, nihilism, and all abandon of self-preservation.

She's not necessarily looking for death, but she'd certainly have lunch with the man.

And some would say that she eventually did- except death in this scenario wasn't a reaper, nor an omen, not Satan, or even God itself.

This deathly figure was Thomas Shelby.

And for the first time, the devil wanted to make a deal with her.

Florence Kent can seem quite boring to the naked human eye, but soon, you'll learn like most- that it takes a lot more than a simple description to really know a person.

-CONTENT WARNING- ⚠️

This book contains very dark themes such as: Death, substance abuse, poor coping mechanisms, nihilistic conversation, traumatic events, angst.

THIS IS THE ONLY WARNING IM GOING TO PUT IN. Putting one at the start of every chapter will just be repetitive and will probably fall on deaf ears. So if any of the warnings previously mentioned bother you in any way, then I advise you step away and find another book.

Thank you!

*I don’t own anything but Florence Kent and her storyline*

The Anya-Margaret Masterlist

THIS BOOK IS NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED.

This book contains very dark themes such as: Death, substance abuse, poor coping mechanisms, nihilistic conversation, traumatic events, angst, religious devaluation.

Masterlist

A description

An Introduction

Chapter 1- “I’m thinking of killing off a few characters, just to jazz up my autobiography.”

Chapter 2- “One might wonder how she combed her hair so her horns didn’t show.”

Chapter 3- “If you knew time as well as I do, you wouldn’t talk about wasting it.”

Chapter 4- “I’ll kick my legs in fit of fear, and know not north from south or my arse from my mouth just as I roll about in the deep water.”

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 22

“Would you ever want to fall in love?”

Masterlist

The fact that the word 'lovesick' exists, that the simple absence of a person can make you feel physically ill, says a great deal about the terrible power of the human heart.

Thomas was sat in his small office at his small desk in the small betting shop. He filed through papers that he meant to work through, to examine and sign if he felt like it.

Though when he picked up the last sheet, it was in fact an envelope.

It was addressed to him in a scrawl that looked far too good for a lowly mans complaint.

He knew what was in the letter, but he didn't know what to think about it.

In his hands he held Grace's letter. The one she gave to him the night before she left for New York, asking him to run away with her.

He obviously didn't go with her that night on account that he was still in Birmingham; but he thought about her letter. He thought about the address which she listed at the bottom of the page, the place she was going to inhabit across the oceans.

Thomas, for some unknown reason, didn't throw the letter away, nor did he burn it. He left it on his desk, in between the files. He left it for another time.

It's not like Grace wasn't going to be there, should he journey off to wherever she now lived.

——

It was the seventh week of Thomas' and Dorothy's late night Saturday meetings.

They truly were Thomas' favourite time of the week. It was the time the two could be completely alone as they picked and prodded at the others brain.

Thomas had now formed a small acquaintance with the children that visited Bonny on Saturday nights for left overs.

Thomas now often found himself talking to the five children that popped in on those nights while Dorothy tried her best to feed the small baby, Tammy.

Thomas told fun stories from when he was younger to the children as best he could. Though more often than not, the kids would complain and whine as he drifted off a bit when he got lost staring at Dorothy as she looked after the small girl.

"Please, Bubs, finish the story, Charlie looks like he's going to burst from anticipation." Dorothy giggled a bit when he caught her eye and paused the story to stare.

Charlie was nine years older than Tammy, making him ten. He was the one that decided the Shelby man was a minor threat compared to the men outside the homely bakery and the two got on like a house on fire. It was truly endearing to watch.

Generally while the other three kids sat around the table, talking with Bonny, Charlie wondered over with two pieces of bread, offered one to Thomas and sat next to him.

At first, Thomas decided it wasn't worth befriending a ten year old, of course. But then as time wore on, the two found themselves going from discussing mundane things and their favourite sweet Bonny made to their day to day and both their adoration for the woman in front of them.

Charlie was the second oldest of the group, just a few months younger than Matilda who was almost eleven.

Thomas did always have a soft spot for children and just had a sense of sympathy for them. He knew kids had to grow up quickly now and there wasn't much room to ever enjoy youth as it was.

Charlie, he learned, was handy with a football and had a nack for the sport. Thomas remembered years of playing footie in the park with John. He wasn't the best at it, but the determination to push his younger brother to the ground whenever he got in his way was much stronger than winning.

So Thomas liked football too.

Now Thomas became the resident story master on these nights. Some of the kids stood a bit of a way back, still cautious of the Shelby man, while others sat right at his feet.

It was moments like these that Thomas craved for a family. Where he could have children and a loving wife, someone like Bonny, who was caring and kind-hearted and pure and everything Thomas ever wanted.

After Thomas had finished the story, and Dorothy had put the extra bits of food in a bag, the children scurried off into the night.

The pair stood at the window, waiting for them to go around the corner until they were out of sight before Dorothy spoke, "Charlie's a sweet boy."

Thomas hummed slowly. Thomas wouldn't say it out loud, but he was definitely Thomas' favourite. He had grown fond of the boy who seemingly had to grow up too fast, shepherding the other children, trying to keep them safe.

Charlie did most of the odd jobs. He cleaned strangers shoes for a quick shilling and delivered messages for people who didn't have time for letters. He did what he could.

Thomas found that the two were similar. Charlie tried his best to do what he could for his peculiar family the same way Thomas did.

Everything was for his family.

Thomas admired that in the boy.

——

The two made their way to the back of the bakery to the kitchen.

Thomas now had an allocated seat at the side to sit and ponder while Dorothy busied herself with baking.

This time though, Thomas did something different.

"How do you make that Billion Dollar shite?" He stated rather crudely.

Dorothy giggled slightly, "C'mere, I'll show you."

This was very new. Usually Thomas sat back and watched. He would ask questions or he would answer them.

His next words probably shocked him most, "orright."

Thomas heaved himself out of his chair and stumbled over in Dorothy'a general direction.

"What're you doing here? Wash your hands first! Didn't your aunt eva' teach you 'bout hygiene?'

Thomas held up his hands and ambled to the sink, dipping them under the water briefly. "Good enough."

When he finally got round to standing beside her she already had the ingredients out, he took off his blazer and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. Dorothy briefly appreciated the look before moving on.

She got to work commanding, "mix this!" Or, "pour that!" And "No, that's far too much!"

Thomas huffed a little, he wasn't exactly used to being spoken to like that. Had she been anyone else, he probably would have cut her a long time ago.

"Since when were you so demanding, huh?" He nudged her a bit.

"Since this is my ball park. This isn't your betting shop, nor the streets of Small Heath. This is my territory, Mister!"

Thomas chuckled at her answer, he didn't mention the fact that he was very sure this bakery was in his territory in Small Heath, but he accepted that this was her safe space, he was only a guest.

After the last of the treats had gone in the oven, Thomas decided that maybe baking wasn't for him, but he'd do it a thousand times again for that kind of experience with his Bonny. She truly was at peace when she was working with her sweets.

But now that they had approximately 20 minutes to kill, Thomas decided to take the lead now.

He rifled through her collection of records and pulled out a nice jazzy one that he hoped he remembered the moves to.

"Oh now that's a good one!" Dorothy chimed over his shoulder, startling him a bit as he was too busy recollecting the actions to the piece.

"Go on, Bubs, dance with me!" She flicked her dress about a bit, giggling as she made big gestures with her hands which Thomas reciprocated with an over exaggerated bow.

"As you wish, Miss. Bonny."

The two pranced around the kitchen, at times she was much too far away from him and he wished he'd picked a slower one.

By the time the record was finished the two had five minutes to waste until they had to stop the sweets from burning.

They settled down again in a position very familiar to the two. Thomas sat in his chair while Dorothy sat adjacent on the counter beside him, her shins brushing his knees.

"Would you ever want to fall in love with someone, Bonny?" The question didn't startle Dorothy, but she didn't exactly expect it.

"I'm not sure, Bubs."

"How could you not want to fall in love?" Thomas furrowed his brows as he stared up at her. He adjusted their position so her stocking clad feet her resting on his lap, he brushed his thumb against the side of her ankles. He made note of the fact that she somehow managed to kick off her shoes midway through their dance.

"Easy. I don't want my happiness to depend on whether or not a person gives their attention to me. I don't want to stay up late wondering whether they are thinking about me. I don't want to cry over someone who may not care. I don't want to stare at the postman to see whether they sent a letter in the morning. Most importantly, I don't want to give anyone the power to hurt me."

"Why 'they'? Something you've got to tell me?" He stared up at her.

"I don't know, Bubs? Is there something you should know?" She challengingly stared back down at him.

"I'm a modern man, Bonny." He tilted his head to the side.

"Well that's very good. Though, I'm more just opened minded. I don't know what I want, nor the kind of person. Never been in a relationship."

Thomas only nodded. "So you don't want to fall in love with no one?"

"I never said that." Dorothy wiggled her ankles out of his grasp and got off the counter. Thomas sat back and stared at the place where she sat only a second ago, trying to process the information.

Dorothy got to work with taking the sweets out of the furnaces, "your Billion dollar Bubs are looking good, Bubs." She giggled at her own joke.

Thomas didn't answer only continuing to stare off to the side.

Dorothy finished setting out the sweets to cool.

She meandered around for a while, pretending to gather her things, when really she was just milling about, refusing to admit the night has ended and she'd have to leave Thomas until Monday.

Thomas slowly came back to the present and started gathering his things. The two walked to the entrance of the bakery, Dorothy turned to lock up and place the key in the potted plant.

"C'mon. I'll walk you home." This was also new. It seemed Thomas also did not want the night to end.

He held out his arm, naïvely. He should have known that she'd go for his hand. He wasn't complaining.

The two walked to Dorothy's place in silence. Just enjoying the ambiance of the brief moment Small Heath went to sleep.

It was only when they turned to Dorothy's Lane that Thomas spoke up, "so you've NEVER been in a relationship, eh?"

Dorothy giggled and slapped his chest, "shut up!"

"You've got to have had your first kiss though, right?"

Dorothy stared sheepishly at the ground.

Thomas gaped a bit like a fish. He couldn't believe it, really.

If he was honest with himself, he was rather glad about the fact that she hadn't been in a relationship or missed anyone yet. If he was even more honest with himself, the only reason he was happy was because that way, he could be her first kiss and relationship.

But he refused to admit the latter to himself.

Those kind of demons were for another time maybe.

The two parted ways at Dorothy's doorstep. Dorothy turning around to give him the tightest squeeze she could, knowing she wouldn't be able to see him until Monday. She tried her best to remember the way he smelled and the way his warmth felt. He was warm to her.

The two quite solemnly parted ways.

——

ANOTHER ONE! YAYYYY!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 23

Hypocrisy isn’t pretty

Masterlist

You drink a little too much

And try a little too hard.

And you go home

To a cold bed and think,

That was fine.

And your life

Is a long line of fine.

The new found friendship between Dorothy Monroe and Thomas Shelby had the whole of Small Heath talking.

Two parties, unanimously known, polar opposites.

People couldn't wrap their heads around it.

Some looked at Dorothy with a disapproving glare. It's not because they were jealous of her, but rather that she even gave the time of day to Thomas.

She spent most of her days preaching kindness and never tolerating the evil.

And understandably, people didn't see Thomas Shelby as an exactly nice man.

"Hypocrisy isn't pretty." They'd snarl.

To which Dorothy'd probably answer, "we all break our rules for someone."

Her answer wouldn't justify her actions, but maybe she just didn't care.

Maybe some thought she was trying to change and tame him.

Those who admired Thomas hated her for that. Those who hated Thomas thought it impossible.

Some, mostly the more romantic young girls, liked the pair. They thought about the romance novels they read and saw the same kind of pairings walking the streets.

Many who visited and talked with Dorothy on days she worked at the counter in her bakery, all loved her and thought her the sweetest girl to ever be.

Some thought that Thomas would taint her.

Those who liked her worried for her.

Those who didn't bid her good riddance.

Despite all the speculation, their friendship was nothing like the public suspected.

Thomas was at his best when he was with her. He was a Thomas even he himself forgot about.

Dorothy was accepting of who her best friend was. She had no desire to change anything about him. She took him the way he was.

——

It was a Tuesday and Dorothy was at the counter talking with a customer who came in regularly.

Mrs. Gold-wing, the customer, usually came in to complain about her sons choice of wife or her husbands drinking habits; but this time, she ventured in with a goal in mind.

She was one of the many who were concerned for Dorothy's well-being as she spent time with the very dangerous Shelby man. She trotted in with the hopes that by the time the conversation was over, Dorothy would be fully convinced that she wanted nothing to do with Thomas Shelby.

Mrs. Gold-wing was very naïve.

Mrs. Gold-wing entered the shop and quite loudly announced her presence while at the same time motioning Dorothy to come chat with her.

It's not like she didn't like Mrs. Gold-wing, It's just that she had work to do and these chats were never short.

Dorothy ambled over, "Morning, Mrs. Gold-wing!" She politely smiled.

"Hello love, take a seat." Mrs. Gold-wing adjusted her purse in her lap, "I need to speak with you about your new acquaintance, Shelby, isn't it?"

Dorothy internally groaned. Straight to the point, but she really didn't want to have this conversation.

"What about him?"

"I'm just concerned dear. He's a dangerous man to be around and I'm worried you'll get hurt. Being with him can't possibly be good for your health." Mrs. Gold-wing tried to be tactful.

"I can assure you, Mrs. Gold-wing, I am certainly not 'with' him. He's a good friend of mine, so don't you worry." She patted Mrs. Gold-wings hand that was resting on the table, trying to finish the conversation as her lunch break was soon and she just wanted Bubs to get there quicker.

"But that doesn't make a difference! I cannot allow you to go running around with a man like that! He'll hurt you, dear! What would your poor mother say? Does she know?"

Mrs. Gold-wing was putting a toe over the line and Dorothy was getting rather sick of it. She didn't appreciate people talking about her situation like they knew her.

"Now don't you worry about my friends and mother. I'll be alright, we're good friends, he treats me very well." She shifted slightly in her seat, trying to stay composed, "Now, what loaf would you like to take this week? I must say, Ms. P did very well this week."

"Miss. Dotty-Anne, I'd very much appreciate it is you sat down! You cannot be near that man! He's so very dangerous and is no good for kind soul like you!" Mrs. Gold-wing slammed her purse on the table which the other customers did not take very kindly to.

"We all have stories we never tell, Mrs. Gold-wing. He has his own and judging him for what you don't know and cannot prove is not fair to him or me. With all due respect." Dorothy added on at the end like it was an after thought.

"Miss. Dotty-Anne, I have half the mind to go find your mother and tell her of you gallivanting with Thomas Shelby! It's hardly appropriate for someone like you, to be seen with someone-."

"Someone like me?" A new voice entered the conversation, "someone like me, Mrs. Gold-wing? That's very derogatory, don't you think? I don't appreciate being spoken about like that."

Thomas had seemingly appeared from nowhere, leaving Dorothy's heart to leap out of her chest, from fright or happiness, she didn't know.

Mrs. Gold-wing also didn't take to kindly to the newcomer in their conversation. She pursed her lips and took a trembling hand to her purse.

Thomas continued, "I don't think it's very kind to go talking about other people's mothers like that. It's not kind to pretend to know someone, y'know?"

"That's what I wanted to say!" Dorothy's internal monologue screamed. She coughed into her hand, trying to conceal a laugh.

Mrs. Gold-wing didn't say anything as she stood up with shaking legs and manoeuvred around Thomas who stayed stock-still where he stood, watching her scuttle out of the door.

"I've never been so happy to see you, Bubs." Dorothy put a hand on her heart and sighed deeply.

"Really? I woulda' thought you'd always been the happiest what when that one time I stuck a gun to your head?" Thomas smirked slightly, offering a hand for Dorothy to take to pull her up.

She took the hand and with a swift motion, Thomas pulled her up into a welcoming hug. Assuming his normal position of resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"Shuddup" she mumbled into his chest.

Dorothy pulled back after a moment, and leaned back to look up at him, "let's get out of here, eh Bubs? I need a break from all this."

Thomas offered just arm and the two walked on.

Thomas kept his promise of trying at least one food from every shop, down in the food quarter. Today, they were having cheese toasties. Thomas was never crazy about them, but he ate them nonetheless.

As the two made their way back to the crate-filled alley, they talked quietly among themselves.

Thomas noticed Dorothy smelling the air and her eyes darted to the cardboard box that held the cheese toastie. Thomas only smirked a little and moved it slightly away from her hands which were twitching slightly. He could have sworn that he heard a small whine come from her as he adjusted the position of the steaming box of cheesy deliciousness.

They were midway through their conversation when Dorothy gasped and let go of a Thomas' arm. She crouched down and opened her arms wide. Thomas stared at her for a moment, his brain trying to catch up with the present, but he was surely interrupted by a small "oomph" coming from Dorothy as she was knocked back a little.

Thomas instinctively jutted out his knee which he stabled her against. Thomas looked down at the little bundle Dorothy held in her arms, whatever it was, it was crying, a lot, and very loudly.

"Sh, sh, shhh. Calm down Theo. Sh, sh, sh. What's wrong love?" She held the crying child close to her chest. When the child seemed to calm down a bit, she pulled him back so she could get a look at his face, trying to see if she could magically tell what's wrong.

"It's Tilda!" The boy cried out.

By now, there was a small crowd forming as people watched the scene. Thomas too, watched on. Unsure what to do.

Those words alone seemed to be enough for Dorothy to take Theo's hand, "where's Tilda? Take me to her."

She held her hand up a bit, as a silent plea for Thomas to help her up because she had no way of getting up with the slightest grace if she pushed off his knee.

Without a moment to spare, Theo spurred off and Thomas found himself following.

They shortly arrived at a cramped, narrow and dirty walkway that was seemingly abandoned.

Though as the group got further in, the two adults heard whispering and hushed chatter.

Soon they came across a huddle of the five kids but one was missing and that scared Dorothy the most.

Dorothy observed the scene and they saw Matilda on the ground with Charlie hunched over her, his hand on her forehead.

Leah stood to the side, shifting from foot to foot. Leah and Theo were the most tightly knit in the group, they spent a year together roaming the streets before they found Matilda and Charlie separately. Leah was seven and Theo and was eight.

Immediately, Dorothy sprang into action.

"Right. Leah and Theo, I need you to take these," she rifled through her dress pocket and pulled out a few coins, "go and find Mr. Whites corner shop bakery. Not mine though. Look around the stall and find a loaf of bread that has mould on it. He always has them at the front of the stall."

The two scuttled off down the walkway, nudging past her.

Dorothy turned to Thomas, "You and Charlie need to go find me a towel and a bowl of cold water. Ms. P always has a basin in the back."

Dorothy turned back to Matilda, and Thomas saw that as his cue to leave. Charlie was already darting ahead of him.

Dorothy wiped Matilda's forehead with her sleeve as it had a sheen of sweat covering it.

Dorothy took off her coat and wrapped it around the shaking girl.

The winter was harsh here, Dorothy didn't have a good, thick winter coat but it was the best she could provide.

The girl was shaking and was semi conscious. Dorothy figured that it was at first a cold which has probably now turned into flu.

"Ok. You're going to be alright Tilda. I'll sort you out." Dorothy nodded to her, trying to keep her emotions at bay.

"Where's Tammy, Tilda?" Dorothy looked around a bit, trying not to sound too panicked.

Matilda croaked our, "in her box, we wrapped her up. But-." She coughed a bit, "-but we decided it was good to keep 'er 'way from me. Don' want her ill."

Dorothy nodded as she looked to the side trying to find the box, but in the end resolved to looking for it later.

Before she knew it, Thomas and Charlie were back with a bowl of cold water, a towel and a glass. She forgot to get a glass, good thinking on Thomas' behalf probably.

Without a word she took the bowl of water, she soaked the towel and laid it on Matilda's forehead. It was times like these, that she was very glad she read those med books she was given.

Next came the mouldy bread. It was only a speculation that she'd read about a few times in books, but apparently mouldy bread worked as a medicine of sorts to combat illness.

The paper was very interesting, it was by a very young man called Alexander Flemming; she'd heard it worked a few times, but she'd never done it herself.

"Okay Tilda, I'm going to sit you up, and I'm going to need you to eat this. It may not taste that nice, but it'll help, I promise." She shifted herself so Matilda's shoulders were resting on her thigh, she also supported her head within the crook of her elbow.

"What are you doing Bonny? We can't give her that!" Thomas, for the first time spoke I up.

She glared up at him, "just trust me, Bubs."

Soon enough, Matilda had eaten two pieces of the bread. The children now sat around Matilda, not getting too close, but just observing her. Every five minutes, Dorothy would re-soak the towel on Tilda's head, muttering softly as she stroked the girls sweat drenched hair. The girl of whom was now deep asleep.

Thomas stood off to the side feeling utterly useless. He didn't know how to deal with these kinds of illnesses. Sure, he could stitch up a bullet would, but he hadn't a clue on how to deal with colds or flu.

It was now late afternoon, no one had moved a muscle and soon enough, Tammy had woken up and had started to cry.

Theo ran off to get the crying child. He brought her back, forgetting the situation slightly as he tried to calm the baby.

"Theo, sweetheart, make sure the baby stays over there, we can't risk Tammy getting sick."

For the first time that day, Thomas thought he could try and make himself useful, he wandered over to the boy with the crying child in his arms, "c'mon, give her here." Thomas gestured for the baby, and took the girl in his warm embrace, "sh, sh. C'mon now. Shh." The girl stopped crying as Thomas bounced her lightly in his arms.

A realisation came over Dorothy, "okay, we've got to get you guys some food.

"We couldn't get any coin today cause we was looking after Tilda, all we've got is one last bun." Leah sounded distressed, of course.

Dorothy was silent for a moment, she didn't have any money left, she was unsure of what to do. Thomas moved to another crate, he shifted the baby so he was only holding her in one arm, he shuffled to the cardboard box on the crate and gave it to Leah.

"Ah! Good thinking, Bubs. Glad we got a large slice! There should be four slices in there." The toastie was most definitely cold by now, but it didn't seem like the children cared.

She gave the bun to Tilda who had momentarily woken up.

But then a bigger problem occurred when Tammy started crying. She was hungry.

"Okay. Uhm. There's milk in the bakery. The key is in the usual place."Dorothy waved her hand, trying to stay calm for the children's sake.

Thomas took that as his command to get going.

"Charlie, mind helping me? I'll need help getting in." Thomas gestured with his head to the side, trying to keep the baby comfortable as it cried in random spouts.

—— (can't stop, won't stop.)

So that's how Thomas found himself wandering the streets of Small Heath with a crying baby and a boy, trying his best to keep up.

After the two had tried to be discrete about breaking in to the bakery Thomas gave what he hoped were correct directions to the glasses and milk in the larder.

He sat down in one of the chairs in the main part of the bakery and kept bouncing the baby every now and again, trying to calm it down the best he could.

Soon enough, Charlie came back with a with warm milk in a glass. Thomas took the glass and surveyed the best way of doing the job. He'd seen Bonny do it several times now, but he wasn't really sure.

He tried his best, but after a while, he just couldn't get the technique.

"I could give it a try, if you want?" Charlie offered. Thomas sighed and figured the boy had more experience with babies, which was rather sad, than he did.

Charlie got it first time and soon enough the baby was right as rain again.

Thomas sighed and put his head in his hands. He didn't expect that this was how his day was going to go. His family's hopefully used to his weird disappearances by now, but he was never  sure.

"You're a lot better with that baby, than I am." Thomas chuckled dryly.

Charlie only shrugged, "I don't know about that. Just practice innit?"

"You usually talking care of 'er?"

Charlie sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, "Tilda's usually better with 'er than I am. Did 'ave a younger baby brother a few years ago though."

"Oh yeah? I've got two younger brothers myself. One's a twat and the other is the same age as you." Thomas thought about Finn and thought maybe him and Charlie would be friends.

"What about your brother, where's he now?" Thomas didn't know why he asked or why he cared.

"Dead." Why'd he ask? "Died when 'e was only one 'n a half. I tried my best to look after 'im, but after a few months out here, I woke up one morning to him stone cold." Charlie was stoic. Not shedding a tear of anything.

Time did that to people when they'd gone through trauma. If you repeat a feat multiple times, you become numb to the feeling. It's just how human emotions work. Thomas understood the numbness that came with this sort of thing.

He nodded, "'am sorry to hear about that. My mum died when I was small. I understand what it's like to loose someone you're close to." Thomas had no clue why he was opening up to this person, a CHILD no less.

Thomas assumed it was Dorothy's influence. She made him soft. Thomas found himself looking at Charlie like a brother now. He'd spent a long while with the boy on Saturday evenings when the children visited and he'd grown fond of him.

He saw Charlie as someone who got it. Someone who grew up too fast. Someone who saw pain all too early.

Charlie got it. He got it better than his brothers. Better than his Aunt Polly.

The two carried on talking for a little while longer, just bonding and joking with boyish grins on their faces

Thomas checked his pocket watch, "aye, we better head back. Make sure they're all still okay. I can't have Bonny stressing more."

The two walked back in silence as Thomas took the baby in his arms again.

"So do you and Miss. Dotty-Anne live together or somthin'? I figured you two weren't married cause she didn' 'ave a ring." Charlie stared up curiously.

Thomas' eyes widened slightly, "uh no. We don't live together or none of that. We're just good friends, that's all." Thomas unintentionally sounded saddened which made Charlie crack a smile.

"Ah, but you want to be more?" Charlie smiles cheekily.

"Oi. Don't go poking your nose where it don't belong." Thomas barked a bit.

Charlie held up his hands in mock surrender, sniggering to himself a bit but he dropped the subject.

The moment that the two males had shared was cut short by a frantic Leah coming screeching to a halt in front of them, "it's Tilda! She's shaking! She's shaking real bad!"

——

>:D cliff hangers!!!!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 24

Isolation is not safety

Masterlist

Only priests and fools are fearless, and I've never been on the best of terms with God.

"It's Tilda! She's shaking! She's shaking real bad!"

Thomas and Charlie exchanged glances before bolting down the street. Thomas tried his best to keep the baby from jostling about too much.

When they entered the cramped walkway, they heard crying and frantic movements.

"Oh, Bubs, thank God you're here! She's got a raging fever but she's freezing to the bone."

Dorothy was trying her best to to get the girl warm, her eyes had tears building up in the corners as she desperately tried to get the girl warm, "I'm so sorry Matilda! I wish I could take you home, but it's just not safe. You'll be fine, I promise!"

By now Dorothy was humming old lullaby's that Thomas also knew. Thomas had learned it was something she did when the ringing got bad; the ringing got bad when she got stressed.

Thomas gave the baby to Theo and shrugged off his blazer, he draped his coat over the violently shaking girl who was sobbing loudly, probably at the sheer discomfort that came with these sorts of illnesses.

Before Thomas really knew what was going on, Dorothy was getting under the coats and jackets with the girl, rubbing her hands up and down the girls arms, trying to get the blood flowing.

"Bonny, what are you doing? You can't get too close, you'll get sick!" He tried pulling gently on her shoulders, trying to manoeuvre her away from the contagiously sick girl.

Thomas knew Dorothy had a poor tolerance to anything, really. He'd seen her get colds from being outside for moments and sometimes collapse from pure exhaustion. He supposed that's what living her in condition would do to a person.

It pained him badly that he had no way of helping. He couldn't make everything better, he couldn't silence the ringing or give her everything so she could have the fullness in her cheeks and the satisfied feeling of a full belly. He couldn't give that to her.

"No, Bubs! She needs to get warm, I'm not just going to sit here and do nothing!" She shrugged her shoulders out of his grasp.

She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, "I'm not letting this girl DIE, Shelby."

Thomas stepped back. Far back. He wasn't used to her using his name, his real one. Maybe her language is what made Thomas take a step back. He supposed it was only now that the severity of the situation kicked in.

He'd seen people do this in France. Men would lie next to each other as a way to make sure the other wouldn't freeze to death in those trenches. With a huff and a sigh, Thomas turned to the other children, "okay. Until we get Matilda sorted out, you kids need to keep your distance, yeah? Can't have you getting sick either. Now where do you lot sleep?"

Theo picked up the box Tammy was sleeping in and lead Thomas to a small nook in the side of the walkway. It looked to be the remains of a living room of sorts. The front door had seemingly been taken off its hinges completely, leaving the 'living room' of sorts to just be used as a means of protection front the elements.

They had mats and cloths on the floor, the whole 'house' seemed to cave in on itself. The stairway had collapsed completely so it appeared that this was the only room they stayed in.

Thomas nodded slightly, trying to get his bearings.

The three children bundled up close to each other, Charlie took a blanket that was much too small for the three of them and draped it over Leah and Theo. He then laid down next to Leah who laid her head on Theo's shoulder. Charlie then took Leah's box and huddled it close to his body, keeping a protective arm wrapped around it.

Thomas grimaced at the sight of the children who were desperately trying to stay alive.

Reflecting a bit now; Thomas looked at the children and saw them like his own at this point. A mix between sibling and children, he saw them as extended family in a way.

The children, though wary at first, accepted him with open arms the moment Dorothy gave the word.

On the surface level of things, people might think Dorothy was a mother-figure to these kids, when really- she just empathised so deeply for them that she became part of their peculiar family.

"Tell us a story, Tommy?" Leah's small voice called out through the bundles of blankets.

"Oh yeah, please Tommy!" Theo chimed in.

Thomas chuckled and shook his head, he settled next to the children on the floor, lying on his back next to Theo.

"Have I ever told you about the story of the princess and the common boy?"

"No! What's that?" Leah giggled at the premise. She liked Princesses, always wanted to be one. Thomas had seen Bonny tell her many times when Leah talked about her dreams that one day she would definitely be a princess and live in her castle with all her friends. Thomas remembered times when Leah would turn to him and ask him if one day she'd be a princess, to which Thomas' heart swelled; he'd nod his head and ruffle her hair, telling her that she'd have lines of princes stood at her door.

"Well, I'll tell you now: Once upon a time, there was a princess who always roamed the forest of her Kingdom. She took a little device with her that allowed her to save the moments and sights she saw-."

"Like a camera?"

Thomas smiled, "exactly like a camera! And one day, she came across a boy who was on the run. The two were similar ages, but didn't instantly get on very well. At first they fought and butted heads, but sooner or later, the two started to fall in love with each other."

Leah gasped a little at the story, she would have squealed with excitement if Theo wasn't already snoring in her ear, fast asleep.

Thomas continued the story until he heard soft, deep sighs coming from Leah who had surely fallen asleep.

"And the two got married and lived in the palace for ever more and went on all kinds of adventures." Thomas sighed hand sat up. He collected himself and got up, dusting off his trousers.

"What kind of adventures did they go on Tom?" Charlie whispered.

Thomas raised a brow at the child who was supposed to be asleep, but was not for whatever unjust reason. "All kinds of adventures, now go to sleep." Thomas chided quietly.

"Is that story about you and Miss. Dotty-Anne? But just this time you guys finally got together?" Charlie smiled cheekily up at Thomas.

"Now that's none of your concern, and for the record, she and I have no kind of feelings like that for each other, now zip it and shut your eyes."

Charlie's grin only widened more, "I never said anything about feelings, Tommy."

Thomas eventually gave up with the staring match when he heard distant humming coming from the walkway. He pointed at Charlie, "If you're not asleep by the time I get back, then I'm going to let Bonny have you, and I don't think you'd appreciate her nagging."

Thomas waltzed out of the door, slightly amused at the conversation. He stopped and contemplated his day for a moment. He really didn't have so much as a clue as to how Bonny had turned his life on it's head. He did not expect to be doing any of this today.

But he'd let her drag him anywhere if it meant following her.

——

Thomas approached the sound of humming and shuffling. He peeked his head around the corner and saw Dorothy holding Matilda in her arms, rocking back and forth with the shaking girl singing lullabies. She had streams of tears running down her face as she desperately tried to warm the girl up.

Thomas' heart broke at the sight. He wasn't a doctor nor had he any idea how to combat illness. In a feeble attempt at trying to be useful, Thomas sat down on the other side of Matilda and tried his best to use his own body heat to warm her up.

Maybe the sight would have been endearing to a passerby, but if you looked closer, it's was a picturesque sign of tragedy and heartbreak. If it wasn't for the violent shaking coming from the girl, you would have thought her dead.

Tragedy isn't beautiful. The misfortunes of Dorothy's life are not beautiful. The turmoil that plagues Thomas' mind is not beautiful. The tumultuous sound of Dorothy's sobs was not beautiful. The laboured breathing that Thomas harboured was not beautiful.

People are not rain; or snow; or autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down.

——

Matilda's shaking finally ceased in the early hours of the morning, her body seemingly passed through the hardest part of her fever. She was still asleep, but she was still breathing.

That's all that mattered

Her hair was matted to her scalp and tear streaks from the discomfort ran down her face like train tracks through rolling fields.

Dorothy and Thomas finally sat back a bit and breathed deeply. The long night exhausting both of them.

The panic in the air settled into a distant hush as Dorothy only continued to stare at the girl in front of her. She leaned forward and felt her forehead; her fever had finally broken.

She finally looked up at Thomas and nodded, to which he dipped his head against to wall and sighed.

He looked back to her frame that was covered in goose bumps and chills. She had long since pushed her fringe back so it now sat haphazardly on the top of her head, unkempt.

She too had tear streaks and red eyes, her lip was bleeding from her biting down on it in frustration. She started tapping her fingers on the back of her right hand in unrhythmic patterns.

Thomas leaned over Matilda slightly, careful of the girls sleeping form. He put his hands on top of her own, trying to stop her nervousness, "it's alright. She's going to be okay. You did good and now she's going to be fine." His voice was scratchy and and gruff, but it was quiet and caring to the anxious girl.

Dorothy nodded and leaned her head against the wall behind her, taking deep breaths.

Thomas found the cramped walkway to be suffocating. It was only now that the panic had stopped did his own claustrophobic anxieties kick in. "I'm going to go check on the small ones. Make sure they're sleeping alright." Thomas excused himself. His hips creaked and his knees cracked and popped at the stiffness of his body. He winced at the sounds and hobbled down the walkway to the makeshift bedroom the children created.

He slowly entered the room and sat down at the foot of where they were sleeping. Making sure they were sleeping fine and peering into Tammy's box, he sat back a bit and took a breather.

After his mind had cleared a bit he looked at the faces of the kids in front of him. They all looked truly peaceful. Their faces ignorant to the horrors that had occurred outside of the abandoned house.

They appeared innocent, like the hardships that they faced in the day did not run with them to their dreams; that is something Thomas envied.

He wished for the day when his own night terrors would stop and he too, could sleep through the night.

Thomas had a small epiphany as he sat in the cold room. He looked at the children and saw a family. They were a peculiar and odd, misfit family. But they were together. They stuck with each other, they communicated and loved one another.

Thomas' night terrors were not a product of him being haunted by demons that held him close, but rather a result of his rejection of company.

Isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you're alive, you're not.

This new notion resonated with Thomas as the events of the past several weeks caught up with him. When he met Bonny he started to live again for the first time since the war.

His mind kept going back to a conversation they had when they discussed their fears. Bonny admitted that her worst fear was losing Thomas and by association, her chance to live.

Thomas finally understood what she meant. When he was with Bonny, he was no longer surviving on borrowed time, he was finally breathing again. That's why they craved each others presence. That's why they demanded each other's full attention because if they didn't have it, then they had no chance of feeling the air in their lungs that they quickly became addicted to.

Thomas found himself smoking less when she was around. She gave him air, real air; that wasn't tobacco and nicotine rolled up in a nice sheet of an early grave. She breathed life; much like he did the same for her, surprisingly.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bonny peeking her head around the door and whispering his name. She gestured for him to come back out to which he pushed up and followed her back out.

"I reckon it's going to rain soon. Mind helping me move her? I wish I could, but I can't do it by myself."

Thomas nodded silently. Exhaustion was clear on both of their faces as they decided they no longer wanted to speak any more.

Thomas, without a word, gently scooped up the small girl, trying his best not to disturb her sleep and carried her to the lodging area.

Thomas placed her down on a mat a bit farther away from the sleeping children and he re-tucked the blankets around her.

He quickly ventured out again into the walkway, he found the scrap crates that held small slats of wood. He took them back inside and lit a fire with his matches; small enough to not burn the room down, but enough to provide warmth for Matilda and the other small children.

He wandered over to where Bonny was sitting. She was curled up against one of the brick walls, her head was resting on her knees.

Thomas sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, "how did you know that the mouldy bread worked?"

Bonny moved her head up so it was now resting on his shoulder, "read a paper on it. Flemmings. Works as and anti-something." Her exhaustion was clear in her voice.

Both of them were highly fatigued, it was only now when Thomas checked his pocket watch did he really understand how much time the two had been dead on their feet, going from lying down, to standing up, to changing the towelette and repeating it all again.

Thomas, with his own weights on his eyelids, wrapped his other arm around Bonny and pulled her down to the side. They shuffled about to a position where Thomas was on his back and Bonny's torso was resting on top of him; her face nuzzled deeply in his neck. The small weight on Thomas' chest relaxed him as his breathing became deeper and he drifted off with his favourite person in his arms.

As the two slept, unmoving and relaxed; the rain started pouring, only adding to the ambiance of the nights cruel events.

The rain and the wind said,

"You push and I'll pelt."

They so smote the garden bed.

That the flowers actually knelt,

And lay lodged—though not dead.

I know how the flowers felt.

Slowly the rain became torrential, but it did not touch the sleeping children.

The minuscule fire they constructed provided light and warmth.

The rain also did not touch the unrequited lover, for he held his own sunshine in his arms.

——

THE FEEEELLLLLS.

Thomas having emotional breakthroughs is my kryptonite and you can quote me on that.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

The Anya-Margaret

An Introduction

Masterlist

Florence Kent

-

Thomas Shelby

-

Polly Grey

-

John Shelby

-

Arthur Shelby

-

Ada Shelby

-

Finn Shelby

-

Carrie Rose

-

Austen (Ossie) McMillan

-

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 25

“This is Karma”

Masterlist

If we want the rewards of being loved, we have submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

Dorothy and Thomas both woke up a number of times during the early hours of the morning.

They thought that maybe they had about three hours sleep, put together that is.

The first time; Dorothy woke up, her head jutted up and almost smacked her fore head on Thomas' chin.

He did still wake up anyway but no one was hurt in the process at least.

Dorothy peered around the room and once again saw Matilda shaking again. "Oh, poor girl" she whispered solemnly. It took a moment for Thomas to realise that the only way she could go help Tilda was if he let go of Dorothy's torso, but he got there eventually.

As Dorothy crawled over to Matilda's flu-induced fever dream fit, Thomas relaxed his head back down on the floor and inhaled deeply. After a moment of almost drifting off back to sleep, Thomas heard gurgles and small choked crying sounds coming from the small kids.

"Oh god. Is this what having kids is like?" Thomas muttered as he dragged his sleep worn body off the hard ground. He leaned over to Tammy's box and took the sniffling girl in his arms. He leant back against the brick wall, bouncing the crying girl gently, who quickly stopped fussing and settled again.

Thomas was relieved that her crying hadn't woken up the other kids, otherwise he'd be in an even deeper mess than before.

Thomas rolled his head to the side and gazed his half open eyes on Dorothy who had now settled close to Matilda. The girl had stopped shaking now with the added warmth.

The moment the two shared was short, but Thomas treasured the feeling, deeply worried he might never get the chance to lie with her ever again.

——

When sunrise came, Thomas only then realised that he had fallen asleep, the baby still tight in his arms. He placed the sleeping girl back in the box she usually resided in and took a step back, surveying the scene.

"How the fuck did I get here?" Thomas almost laughed at how his day and night had so drastically changed.

Soon enough, Dorothy started stirring as she lifted her head up slowly. Her eyes widened at the stiff pain in her neck. She truly did wonder how these kids slept on the floors and still walk the next day.

She lifted the arm Matilda had subconsciously wrapped around her body off her. Dorothy carefully tried to stand up without making too much noise, but the cracking of joints and her back felt louder than gunshots.

Dorothy half-stumbled, half-walked in Thomas' direction who had an indifferent morning face on.

Without any words she leaned her head on Thomas' chest to which he responded by wrapping his arms around her sleepy frame. Dorothy hummed in content, "mornin'" she nuzzled her nose further in to his chest.

"Mornin' Bons." He rasped back quietly.

The two stood in silence for a few more moments until Dorothy spoke up, "Ms. P is gonna kill me for not coming back after my break." She giggled quietly which Thomas cracked a smile to.

"Nah. Don't worry 'bout her... She'll get over it. Potentially by firing you, we'll find out." Thomas rested his cheek on the top of her head.

Dorothy whined at the thought of her getting fired. She didn't know what she would do if she got fired. She wondered what would happen to her family.

——

Slowly but surely, the world woke up. The small kids started to shift and soon everyone but Tammy and Matilda were up. The rain had stopped, luckily, so the kids weren't confined to the sickly room.

Soon enough, Matilda woke up and her fever had gone down tremendously. Though she was still ill and tired, she'd probably be up on her feet again for tomorrow.

Thomas and Dorothy sat for a few minutes, just trying to re-collect themselves as they processed the night they had. Soon enough they realised it was probably best for them to leave.

When the two bid goodbye to the children, both parties were downtrodden and upset at the thought of parting ways, to which Dorothy tried to reason that they'll see each other soon on Saturday.

As the two friends walked down the streets of Small Heath, they were silent but close.

The rest of the city hadn't quite woken up yet, so Dorothy kept Thomas close and held his hand as they seemingly drifted through the morning light.

Thomas had woken up, even though his back was stiff; he was back on his feet shortly enough.

Dorothy, on the other hand, was still tired and groggy. Her face was quaint and drawn. She neglected to tell Thomas that she left Matilda her coat as the girl had no other layers to stay warm with.

Thomas, very quickly, picked up on this and shifted his coat on her shoulders without so much as a word.

She worried slightly for Thomas in the sense it was quite cold in the morning chill, and took to shuffling close to him, which he responded with wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

They arrived at the bakery and Dorothy turned to face Thomas, "thanks for helping out, I really appreciate it. I don't know what I would have done if I had a sick girl and a crying baby." She had a small smile on her face.

Thomas brushed her hair down a bit with his fingers, "it's no problem. Those little ones are more family than anything." He smiled down at her.

His words turned her small smile into a big grin which looked like it would rip her cheeks if it got any bigger "really? I'm so glad you said that. They honestly think you're great. Leah thinks you're like the coolest 'prince' ever." She held up her hands as quotation marks.

Thomas laughed at being called anything close to a prince. He snaked his arms around Dorothy's waist and pulled her closer to his chest.

Dorothy didn't mention the other words Leah said that morning, stating that Dorothy and Thomas were each other's princess and prince. The words made her eyes widen and stutter as she denied the whole concept completely.

The two parted ways, Thomas leaving with a promise that he'd be back by the time she was off again and Dorothy turning away reminding him that she'll always be where he can find her.

——

The morning was slow for Dorothy. Too slow. Her movements felt sluggish and lethargic. Her body feeling heavy with a weight she didn't carry.

Dorothy pinned it down to a lack of sleep and a lack of food. That would make sense. But she held on all the same, deciding it was no good to go fainting and falling before Thomas got there AT LEAST.

When Ms. P entered the bakery, she opened her mouth and Dorothy expected an earful for ditching work, but instead all she got was an elongated silence and a quiet greeting.

Dorothy felt like a sloth that she'd read about in her old books. Moving so slowly, the human eye might miss it. Ms. P kept rushing around her, doing jobs she could do fine by herself, but instead telling Dorothy to grab a drink of water and just stock the shelves out back.

By the time Dorothy's lunch break rolled around, she found that her usual half an hour job of stocking shelves turned into an hour long workout that was yet to be completed.

She felt horribly cold and kept Thomas' coat on that she unintentionally kept. She snuggled into the fabric when she took a breather to sit down on a stool. The coat smelled of cigarettes, whiskey, musk and coal. Dorothy quite liked the smell. It comforted her when she sighed and closed her eyes.

Maybe Dorothy got too comfortable though, because sooner or later she found herself dozing off, her head tipped forward slowly until the sound of someone clearing their throat made her head shoot up.

"Ahm- Sorry! SORRY, Ms. P! I-." Dorothy's flustered rambles were interrupted by the frame of one tall Shelby man. A small amused smirk on his face as he caught her in the act of sleeping on the job.

"Hello Bubs..." Dorothy yawned quietly, trying to gather he senses.

Without another word, Thomas walked to where she was perched on the high stool.

He, in one very swift movement, gathered Dorothy in his arms, strutted to where his designated chair was and plopped down in it with Dorothy, still in his arms, being lowered on to his lap.

Maybe if Dorothy was in a better frame of mind, she would have gotten hot and flustered; and made an excuse to get up. But instead, she leaned into the crook of his neck, breathing in his musky scent.

By these actions alone, Thomas knew that something was up. His suspicions were only confirmed when he heard a wheezing sound in his ear as Dorothy exhaled slowly.

He brought his head away from hers to get a better look, he saw her cheeks were flushed and her forehead was crinkled in discomfort.

Now Thomas understood.

Dorothy had gotten sick.

Of course she had. For most of the night she laid with a girl so sick, he was surprised she missed deaths knocking; and Dorothy had never had a good sickness tolerance.

"This is karma, y'know?"

——

Oooh. Do I have an obsession with sick fics? Maybe I do. Don't judge me.

All the tropes in this book are overused and cliche, but you've read this far so you can't judge me.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

The Anya-Margaret (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 1

“I’m thinking of killing off a few characters just to jazz up my autobiography.”

Masterlist

“Can’t catch me!” The young girl fled around the halls of her stately home.

A young maid, who was on nanny duty today, had the misfortune of chasing after the relentless girl.

She ran through halls with ceilings that she would never touch, no matter how much she grew.

The carpet was lusciously red and rich- it tickled her toes which only made the young girl giggle more as she toddled around the home.

The walls had a green design that was bright enough to make the house not seem boring, but dull enough to drive one insane, should they spend too much time looking for a cosmic purpose.

But young girls like her had no time to contemplate philosophy and the cosmos, as girls like her were too busy running with time.

Time ticks fast, but she ticks faster- never letting it overtake her for fear of the unknown.

——

“Oi Tom!” Arthur trudged into the betting shop, “new business in town. Well-not that new-but either way- they ain’t paying for protection, so I propose we go n’ ruff ‘em up.”

Thomas placed his pencil down on the document he was working on. He’d heard about this business, and he actually had plans for them.

“Aye, Arthur.” Thomas nodded, better now than never- it’s not like he wanted to sit at his desk all day- “I’ve got a proposal for ‘em.”

Arthur’s face shifted slightly with minor satisfaction as the thought of letting out some pent up nerves while smashing a blokes face in just made him feel a bit better.

“Who am I bringing then? John-boy? Scudboat? You’re coming too, Tom, ain’t ya?” Arthur was now pacing as his hands itched with anticipation.

Thomas only lit a cigarette with a blank look on his face, “actually, Arthur- it’s just going to be you, John and I visiting. I have a business proposal first.”

——

The streets of Small Heath were grimy and unpleasant, but not nearly as unpleasant as how thick the air became when they stepped closer and closer to the establishment.

“What they done, Tom?” John had his game face on. He was ready to kick ass and fuck up some poor blokes marriage. It’s going to be great.

“Ah, ah. Not yet, boys. I have a business deal to make first, should they refuse, then maybe you can sling their hook. But for now, I just need intimidation.” Thomas almost felt uneasy lighting a cigarette when the air smelt as though he’d had thousands already- but then again, he had to keep up appearances.

The door to the establishment was open, which contradicted the notice on the wall next to the frame that read;

“NO WALK-INS ACCEPTED.

MUST CONTACT VIA LETTER OR TELEPHONE AND PAY UPFRONT BEFORE SERVICE IS PROVIDED.”

“What the hell...” John muttered as he tried not to cough and splutter when entering the hazy room.

The shiny razors sewn into their caps almost seemed dull as the thick smoke clouded the room and clouded their eyes.

From what they could see, the work space was actually rather done up. The walls were a lush shade of rich red and the skirting board was lined with gold paint.

There was little furniture though and the place wasn’t nearly comforting despite its warm colours.

“What is this place?” Arthur grumbled, suddenly feeling a chill as he was overcome with the sense that he was in a waiting room, tapping his feet mindlessly as he waited for an appointment for a cause that did not sit well with him.

“It’s a morgue and cemetery, Arthur.” Thomas quipped quietly. He raised a finger to his lips as he stalked through the corridors that contradicted the atmosphere.

The three rather scary looking men heard giggling sounds coming from behind a door at the end of a long corridor.

Arthur and John glanced at each other, very confused.

The laughter though, was not one of sweet nature that you’d hear from a lady who made sweets, but rather a giggle or cackle that sounded sick and mocking and condescending.

Before Thomas could break down the door, he heard a low voice coming from within that had a thick accent over it.

“I heard this funeral is going to be grave affair, Mr Daniels.”

Thomas noted that the voice sounded a lot like a Russian merchant he’d met before the war.

He knew this business was doing well, but he didn’t expect doing-business-with-the-Russians-well.

Arthur had enough of waiting around and barged through the door.

There was silence for a moment and the clattering of utensils on a metal surface. “What the fuck is this?” He bellowed.

The other two brothers made haste with scrambling into the seemingly smoking room.

The four walls in the rather large room were a steely grey and Thomas wondered if it was actually iron and they were in a cage- it certainly felt like one.

“What-“ John cried, confusion fat, “the holy fucking shit is that?”

Thomas darted his attention to two figures in the corner of the room, one laying down on a high wooden table and another hunched over it like a lion over a deer carcass with an open light bulb hanging over head.

But it was only when Thomas looked closer, did he see the purple fingers of the figure on the table and the top of its nose- so pale and blue.

His inspection of the body was interrupted by the sound of Arthur’s gun clicking as he raised it up pointing at the hunched figure.

“Oi!” He grumbled, “step back from the body! By order of the Peaky Blinders!”

The hunched figure sighed and put down the metal instruments they clutched haphazardly in their fingers.

Thomas stepped forward and put a hand on the top of Arthur’s gun, motioning for him to put it away.

“Miss Florence Kent, I presume?”

The woman in front of them was of average height and had this unruly red hair that looked like it hadn’t seen comb in weeks. Her shoulders were hunched forward and it appeared that she constantly just swayed from side to side on the spot.

She wore trousers that protruded out from her legs, but were tied back together at her ankles brown paper bag style. She also wore a dirty creme coloured top that had long flowing sleeves that, like the trousers, bunched around her wrists. She honestly just looked like she only got half dressed- not in a whorish way, but it clearly needed something.

“Yup. Youse are Shelby’s, correct?” She gestured up and down with her arm to three rather unimpressed men who didn’t like being addressed with such casualty. Arthur was all but ready to put the fear of God into her heart.

Thomas ignored her comment and stubbed out a cigarette; “I’ve been lookin’ through the books, Miss Kent. I’ve noticed that you, a rather successful business, does not pay the protection of the Peaky Blinders.”

The red-haired woman smiled although it seemed more like a grimace, “and why do I need protection? Eh? Is someone going to steal my precious bodies” she put her palms to her cheeks, “oh no! Gah!”

Thomas was nearly at his wits end and John had already grabbed the back of his cap, waiting for Thomas to make a move.

“It’s not just outside enemies you’ll need to watch out for, maybe ones in your own establishment.” He blinked slowly and stood stock still “speaking of other enemies, where is your friend who you were talking to before we walked in? Husband? Business associate?”

The woman’s eyes widened as she gasped at the three men, “you believed that!” She bent over forwards as she cackled into her hand, “oh that’s so perfect! I’m nailing that accent. Woo!” She threw her arms up in the air mockingly.

“Okay, Tom. I’ve had enough of this.” Arthur snarled, but Thomas once again put his arm up to silence him.

“That’s not nice, let you’re brother talk, Tom.” The lady pouted teasingly. Thomas wondered, for the briefest of moments if this woman was clinically insane, but despite that, he’d met worse. He clenched his jaw “Miss Kent I have a proposal for your business.”

The woman with hunched shoulders rolled her eyes at all the formalities, but she never passed down the opportunity for a few dramatics, “alright, and what if I reject your business proposal?”

“Well you might find yourself in a room much like this, except you’d be the one with your guts in a jar?” Thomas tilted his head to the side, matching her teasing tone. If it was a game to her, then he’d play the game just ten times harder.

The woman scoffed and shifted her weight so she was leaning against the table “orright. Go on then- I love a bit of chit chat.”

She lit another cigarette and waited for Thomas’ long dramatic pause to end.

“You know what we do. You probably read the papers-“

“Kindling.”

Thomas sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. In any other circumstance, he would have shot her where she stood, but he really needed this business deal to go through- God, he hated being dependant on people. Especially the insane ones.

“So you know bodies are being found, and are being traced back to us when they get picked up from the cut?”

The woman stood up straight again and took the bud of her cigarette and mashed it into the side of the dead mans face who was still on the table. Thomas internally cringed and could have sworn that he heard John gag.

“And you want me to ‘sort out’ all the bodies the coppers ‘find’?” She used air quotes as she strolled around the other side of the table. “Also, can you tell your brother, yeah, to put down that feeble gun. It’s not very polite, y’know? Besides, it would be like shooting a gravestone if went for me.”

“What the fuck’s she on about, Tom? What are you on about, lady? You pulling some smimey witchcraft on us? I don’t like her Tommy, we can’t trust her. We don’t need her, we can deal with them bodies ourselves.” John was getting violently panicked, “we’re the Peaky fucking Blinders— she can’t do shit.”

“You’re right, John. I can’t do shit, but there will be no satisfaction in killing me. Go on, Johnny-” She spread her arms wide and tilted her head back. She shook her hands like she was dancing to jazz music, expecting an encore for her performance, “-lay one on me!”

“Fucks sake!” Thomas, who was clearly antsy and agitated, slammed his fist down on the table “we want you to be our body burner, right. Can you do that?”

“Jesus Christ, Sir.” She pottered around the room, moving jars and opening up cabinets that lined the wall vertically and horizontally.

The silence hung in the room for a while until Florence shifted on her heels, “so uh... what do I get for all this hassle?”

Thomas lit another cigarette. Something about this room and it’s pungent smell just put him on edge and made him uneasy.

“You get protection by the Peaky Blinders.” He stated plainly.

The woman shot him an unimpressed look, “if I wanted protection, I would have paid for it. Besides, why the hell would I care for your protection? Eh? The monsters gonna come get me, Shelby? Are you the monster? Why are you a monster, Thomas?” She tilted her head and squinted.

“Definitely insane” Thomas decided.

“Sure. The monsters. That’s not the point though. With this deal, you’ll be affiliated with the Peaky Blinders, therefore making you a target.”

“I still don’t want your protection. I’ll take the deal, but I don’t want youse lot just fuckin’ breaking and entering. Anyway, you weren’t too good at it either. I heard you all the moment you stepped through that door.” She opened different mason jars and took all sorts of herbs out and laid them out on a cloth.

After examining the stalks of which, she put them in a cement bowl and started grinding them down, “you’re lucky that I was curious to see who would have the balls to come here so I didn’t waste ya as soon as you stepped through.”

John scoffed, “sure you did, love.”

Florence continued to smash and squish the herbs into a dry green powder that looked not at all appetising.

The three men just stood and watched—not for any reason probably, maybe just intimidation and curiosity.

Thomas watched as she strode around the table with a heavy sway which made him wonder if the woman was shit-faced drunk.

When she walked in front of him, instead of alcohol like he was suspecting, he smelled something acute to salt and flowers, a strange combination. She walked with her toes turned outwards, almost like she had a limp in both feet and it was clear she genuinely had no regard for appearances to the three dangerous men.

She dumped the heavy cement bowl onto the table next to the pale blue and white body that made everyone but her in the room feel queasy.

“Are you boys gonna stick around to watch me slice this man open or do ya want to get the fuck out of my working space?” She picked up an instrument, not too dissimilar from a knife you’d see on your kitchen table, just this one had a bent head.

Thomas stood stock still but the other two men looked at each other with confused and pleading expressions. They could take ripping people a part limb from limb, but this... this was insufferable.

With the others gone, all that was left was Thomas and Florence, and the body.

“If you’re gonna stay, you can at least help me?” She said with a snarky tone. Thomas didn’t do shit for anyone so instead he just lit another cigarette and watched.

The woman took her bent knife—that was probably genuine medical equipment, but if Thomas was bored enough, he could most likely fashion his own—and dragged the knife across the corpses abdomen, just under his diaphragm.

“Lucky for you, I’ve already bled this one, so hopefully you don’t feel like disembarking your dinner.” She took the bag of ground up powder and put it into the top of a funnel with a tube attached to the end.

If Thomas was being honest, he felt sick to his stomach, he’d rather quit drinking for the rest of his life rather than sit and watch this—hell, he didn’t think he’d be able to consume anything for a week after this—but he had to keep up an appearance.

To be fair to him, it worked alright- Florence was slightly impressed by his devout need to prove himself to everyone.

He did falter though slightly when she jammed the end of the tube of the funnel into the line of the mans abdomen. He inhaled sharply when she took a jug of water and poured it into the funnel so it mixed with the powder, creating a thick gooey clear substance.

She held the top of the funnel in front of her face and shifted her weight so the front of her hips were resting against the tall table.

Thomas wondered if this woman could stand up straight.

She cast her gaze to the side to Thomas who had his eyes locked onto the slice in the mans abdomen as the goo passed through achingly slowly.

He moved his head up so they met eyes now from across the room. Maybe if it was a different setting, the scene would have been romantic, had they not been in a morgue and she not pouring goo into a dead mans carcass.

The room was supposed to be tense, it usually is when Thomas decides to enter with his dramatic bitch face. But for some reason, this woman wouldn’t let him affect her. At first Thomas thought it was fear; next he thought it was insanity; then he considered that maybe this woman just didn’t give a flying fuck about who he was and what he was doing there.

He hated that, just as much as he admired it.

“I’ll return another time to discuss business agreements.”

As the rather threatening man walked out of the door, Florence wondered if he too, was only just pretending to be human like herself most of the time.

——

“I hear you’re in partnership with the Shelby’s.” The Irish accent that seemingly appeared out of nowhere startled the red haired girl.

Not because she didn’t hear him, just that you didn’t hear other dialects in this shit-hole of a city.

Florence didn’t look up from where she sat, examining the pages of a book. She took her index finger and held it up to the mans face as a silencing motion. “What’s you on about, Mister?” The woman answered finally.

She was curled up in a very uncomfortable looking dining room chair (even though there was no dining room) with a book in her knees and hunched shoulders.

“You we’re visited by the Peaky Blinders today, and you made an agreement with them, Miss Kent.” The man with the thick grey moustache snarled.

“Yes I did. You’re sounding a bit resentful there, Chester.” She didn’t move her head, but her large eyes shifted to where the man stood stiff with two officers behind him. Coward.

“I see they’ve told you about me.” He nodded smugly.

“No, actually. I just find these things out for myself.” She focused back on to the page and tuned out whatever the man who looked like he had a stick up his arse was saying.

“Why did they decide to initiate contact with you?” He asked plainly.

“Business.” She states in the same manor.

“Why didn’t they discuss business with your husband or superior?” He leaned in slightly.

“Because I don’t have either of those. This is my business and you clearly didn’t read the sign outside.” She yawned and sniffed quietly. She reached for her cigarette tin and lit one up.

“We are royal officials. Your sign does not bypass the need for law and order. Besides, your reports will not be acknowledged, so there’s no need- I have friends in high places.” He stated condescendingly.

“Yeah? Well I’ve got friends in low places.”

Campbell slammed his fist onto the wall next to him, which probably would have been more intimidating, had he not hissed in pain and the wall not had been made out of brick. “Why did you agree to business with those scum of the Earth rats!” He bellowed.

Florence didn’t flinch. She only sighed and put down her book, cigarette still resting in her mouth, “because I do business with people who offer money. Good money. Don’t take it personally, but take it all the same.” She folded her hands on her stomach and interlocked them with a dull look on her face.

“And what if I offered you your life for information on the Peaky Blinders?”

“Okay, lets get this straight. I don’t want shit from you. My death will not and does not burden me. I won’t give you information on the Peaky Blinders, because I can’t be arsed to listen to them. So go on, have at it!” She abruptly stood up and stalked to the door on the other side of the room, but not before turning round with a grin on her face, “oh, and by the way, Chester. Please do take this very personally... Man up soldier- oh wait.” She cackled and didn’t miss the inspectors fists clenching as his brow tensed.

Without another word, Inspector Campbell left the premise. He knew that he’d see to it that this arrogant, harlot woman would see consequences of her blind confidence.

——

Okay. A lot of things are really slowing down here and I have no idea when the next chapter will be up.

So sorry for the lack of continuity, but hopefully you can understand that everything’s a bit intense atm 😅

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!