jinx

She left Birmingham five years ago, swearing she'd never come back.

Then one letter changes everything.

Now she's trapped in the city she escaped, hunted by dangerous men, haunted by the boy she once loved—and forced into an arranged marriage with the one person she'd rather die than call her husband.

Thomas Shelby isn't the boy she remembers.

He's colder. Crueler. Untouchable.

And surviving him might be harder than surviving the enemies trying to kill her.

A/n: pt 4 IT’S THE WEDDING DAYYYYYYYY

tbh I wasn’t expecting people would read this but hiii

do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with any of these warnings. you are responsible for your own media consumption. series warnings: minors, do not interact. Stalking, depression non-consensual detailed observation/description of intimate/sexual acts, language, violence, smut, not canon. tommy x reader. might make a master list later

TAGLIST: @ourtiger04 @emilycookie86

The morning arrived grey and merciless.

The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, leaving tiny droplets clinging to the bedroom window. Birmingham looked clean from the outside.

Inside, nothing had changed.

Y/n hadn't slept.

She had spent the entire night sitting on the window seat with her knees tucked against her chest, watching the street below until darkness slowly gave way to morning. Every hour she'd told herself she should try to sleep.

She never did.

There was no point.

Sleep was for people who woke up with something worth waking for.

A soft knock came at the bedroom door.

She didn't answer.

Another knock.

Silence.

The handle turned anyway.

Lou stepped inside first, carrying an ivory wedding dress folded carefully over both arms. Polly followed behind her with a small polished wooden box tucked beneath one arm.

Neither woman spoke.

"...Morning, sweetheart," Lou said gently.

Y/n kept staring out of the window.

"Is it?"

Lou's smile faded.

She laid the dress across the bed with almost painful care.

It was beautiful.

Simple silk.

Long sleeves.

Tiny pearl buttons.

The sort of dress little girls imagined wearing after falling asleep listening to fairy tales.

The sort of dress Y/n had imagined wearing once.

When she was seventeen.

When she thought Thomas Shelby would be the man waiting for her at the altar because she couldn't picture a future where he wasn't.

Now it felt like a funeral dress.

Polly watched her for a long moment.

"You should wash your face."

"I did."

"No."

Y/n finally looked at her.

"I cried afterwards."

Neither woman answered.

Lou crossed the room and gently tucked loose strands of hair behind Y/n's ear.

"Oh..."

Her voice cracked.

"My poor girl."

The skin beneath Y/n's eyes had turned almost purple.

Her eyelids were swollen.

Her lips were split from biting them through the night.

She looked less like a bride...

...and more like someone who had been mourning for years.

Lou instinctively reached for her hand.

"When did you last eat, sweetheart?"

"I'm not hungry."

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm still not hungry."

"You didn't come down for dinner."

Silence.

"You missed breakfast."

Another silence.

"You didn't even drink your tea."

Y/n looked down.

Polly's voice became quieter.

"When?"

She knew that voice.

It was the same one Polly had used whenever she already knew the answer.

"When did you last have a proper meal?"

"...Yesterday."

"What did you eat?"

"A little bread."

"And before that?"

Y/n shrugged.

"The café lets us take home whatever's left."

Lou frowned.

"...Whatever's left?"

"If there is anything left."

"And if there isn't?"

"I make tea."

Lou stared at her.

"Tea?"

"It fills your stomach."

"No."

"It tricks it."

Silence settled over the room.

Polly didn't move.

"Has it really been that hard in London?"

Y/n gave a tired laugh.

"You've never tried paying London rent on café wages."

Nobody answered.

She shrugged again.

"I managed."

Polly shook her head.

"No."

"You survived."

"Those aren't the same thing."

Y/n couldn't argue.

Because Polly was right.

Lou quietly turned away, wiping at her eyes before anyone noticed.

Polly simply looked at the girl she'd helped raise.

The child who'd followed Arthur around insisting she wanted to learn how to box.

The girl who'd spent every summer afternoon talking Thomas Shelby's ear off while he pretended he wasn't listening.

The teenager who laughed louder than anyone else whenever Tommy laughed.

Now...

She could see every bone in her shoulders.

"...Come here."

Y/n obeyed without thinking.

Polly opened the wooden box.

Inside rested an old silver hairbrush.

Her mother's.

Y/n hadn't seen it in years.

Polly began brushing the knots from her hair exactly the way she had when Y/n was little.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Neither of them spoke.

Some silences were kinder than words.

After a while Y/n whispered,

"I thought you'd stop him."

"The marriage."

The brush paused for only a heartbeat.

"I tried."

Y/n blinked.

"You did?"

"He'd already made up his mind."

"You could've changed it."

Polly smiled sadly.

"I can't always change Richie's mind."

"You usually can."

"Usually."

Y/n laughed bitterly.

"So everyone thinks this is for the best."

"No."

"Then why?"

"Because Billy Kimber won't stop."

"I can protect myself."

"I know."

"I've done it before."

"I know."

"I don't need Thomas."

"I know."

Tears blurred her reflection.

"So why?"

Polly carefully set the brush down.

"...Because I buried one girl already."

Y/n froze.

Polly almost never spoke about her sister.

No one did.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

"I still wish..." Y/n whispered.

"No."

"I do."

"No."

"It should've been me."

Polly turned her around so quickly the chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"Don't."

"It should've been me."

"Don't ever say that again."

"She would've known what to do."

"No."

"She was better than me."

"No."

"They took the wrong sister."

Polly grabbed her face between both hands.

"They took your sister."

Her voice broke.

"They did not leave me with the wrong daughter."

Silence.

"I miss her."

"I know."

"I still hear her laughing."

"I know."

"I still wake up thinking she's alive."

"I know."

Y/n finally broke.

She buried her face against Polly's shoulder and sobbed like she hadn't since she was sixteen.

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"I don't want this."

"I know."

"I wanted..."

She couldn't finish.

She didn't have to.

Polly already knew whose name she couldn't say.

Thomas.

Not the man waiting downstairs.

The boy.

The boy who had climbed through Richie's bedroom window because he'd been too nervous to knock.

The boy who laughed until he couldn't breathe because she'd accidentally punched Arthur instead of the training bag.

The boy who kissed her behind the house at seventeen and promised, with all the certainty only teenagers possess, that when the war ended they'd never have to say goodbye again.

Polly stroked her hair.

"So did Thomas."

Y/n slowly looked up.

"What?"

"The Thomas you loved."

Not Thomas Shelby.

Not Mr. Shelby.

Thomas.

"The boy before France."

Silence.

"He would've asked your uncle properly."

A tiny smile touched Polly's lips.

"He would've spent weeks rehearsing it."

Y/n laughed weakly through her tears.

"He would've forgotten the ring."

"He would've."

"He would've stumbled over every word."

"And Arthur would've laughed at him for months."

Another tiny smile.

"He would've smiled the whole day."

Polly nodded.

"He used to smile all the time."

The smile disappeared from both their faces.

"...He's gone."

Polly didn't argue.

She simply nodded.

"Yes."

Not dead.

But gone.

"The war brought Thomas Shelby home."

She gently wiped another tear from Y/n's cheek.

"But the boy you loved..."

Her own eyes filled.

"...he never came back."

Silence settled over the room.

Even the rain seemed quieter.

Lou finally lifted the wedding dress.

"Come on, sweetheart."

Together they dressed her.

The silk slid over her shoulders.

Lou fastened each pearl button one by one.

When Y/n looked into the mirror...

She barely recognized herself.

She looked beautiful.

Not like a bride.

She left Birmingham five years ago, swearing she'd never come back.

Then one letter changes everything.

Now she's trapped in the city she escaped, hunted by dangerous men, haunted by the boy she once loved—and forced into an arranged marriage with the one person she'd rather die than call her husband.

Thomas Shelby isn't the boy she remembers.

He's colder. Crueler. Untouchable.

And surviving him might be harder than surviving the enemies trying to kill her.

A/n: pt 3- so excited to share this with you all!!

do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with any of these warnings. you are responsible for your own media consumption. series warnings: minors, do not interact. Stalking, depression non-consensual detailed observation/description of intimate/sexual acts, language, violence, smut, not canon. tommy x reader. might make a master list later

Last night when Lou had come to call her downstairs for dinner, she refused. Lou had gone back downstairs to tell her uncle that she was dead set on not getting married and she wasn’t having dinner until he obliged. No one had come calling her for dinner after that. No one probably cared enough, she thought.

Last night had left her paranoid. She thought she couldn’t trust anyone in this world when her own people had betrayed her like that. When everyone had lied to her about this or that, who and what, when and where. She was alone. Truly alone.

Except…she thought, maybe if she could run away, maybe if she could get out of Birmingham, get on a train to London, she might have a shot. She’ll have Jack help her out. She’ll move away. She’ll leave the whole country if she had too. The only thing being…how?

How could she leave Birmingham when Billy Kimber was waiting out there for her, probably had his men watching her like a predator. And oh how could she forget, Thomas Michael Shelby. That fucking lunatic of a man. He’s probably got his men watching her too. Not probably, definitely.

She sat there, thinking, thinking and overthinking. She didn’t go down for breakfast, and by lunch time, Lou had probably figured that asking her to come down would be useless, so no one came asking for her.

By late afternoon, she had made her decision. She was going to run away. Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Who could it be? Nevermind that, she had more important matters to attend to.

She stood by the window, planning her escape in her head. She could wait until midnight and then she would leave, quietly. Until then, she had to pack a few things. Her bags from the ‘trip that was leading her to her doom’ were already packed but she still needed something to eat. She could get something to eat from the kitchen before leaving, she thought.

This could really work. She could make it out. No, she was going to make it out. She was going to leave-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

‘Who the hell is it?’ She shouted, angrily.

‘It’s me, Arthur.’

‘Well, what the hell is it, Arthur?’ She asked, leaning in the doorway. If Arthur noticed her bangs were still packed, he didn’t mention it.

‘Richie says you haven’t eaten since last night and since you’re getting married tomorrow morning, Thomas wants you to come downstairs and eat something.’

‘So, you’re like his messenger pigeon now?’

Arthur snorted.

'Aye. Worst job I've ever had.'

She crossed her arms.

'Tell Thomas Shelby I'm not hungry.'

'Already did.'

She frowned. 'Then why are you still here?'

Arthur scratched the back of his neck.

'Because he said you'd say that.'

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.

'Of course he did.'

Arthur sighed. 'Look, kid... just come downstairs. Eat something. Then you can go back to hating everyone.'

'I'm doing perfectly fine hating everyone from up here.'

A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips.

'I can see that.'

He started walking away before stopping halfway down the hall.

'Just... don't do anything stupid tonight.'

Her stomach twisted.

Did he know?

She forced a laugh.

'Define stupid.'

Arthur looked at her for a second.

Long enough to make her uncomfortable. 'You know exactly what I mean.'

Then he walked downstairs.

‘Midnight,’ she whispered to herself.

‘Just make it until midnight.’

Midnight came quietly.

The whole house had gone still.

Y/n waited another ten minutes just to be safe before slipping her bag over her shoulder. She glanced around her room one last time, opened the window and climbed onto the small ledge outside.

'Don't look down,' she whispered to herself.

She dropped onto the grass with a dull thud and winced.

No one came.

Good.

She hurried towards the back gate, heart pounding so loudly she was certain someone would hear it.

The streets were almost empty. A drunk stumbled out of an alley, singing to himself. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself and kept walking.

Don't run.

Running looked suspicious.

Walk.

Just keep walking.

When she reached the station she almost laughed.

She had done it.

She bought the first ticket to London with shaking hands and hurried onto the platform before anyone could recognize her.

Steam curled around the train.

People climbed aboard.

She stepped into one of the compartments and let out a relieved breath.

Finally,

Home.

She reached for the compartment door—

'Going somewhere?'

Her blood froze.

Thomas Shelby sat by the window, cigarette between his fingers as if he'd been there all evening.

He didn't even look surprised.

He looked...

Bored.

Y/n stared at him.

'How...?'

'I thought you'd choose this train.'

She scoffed.

'You just guessed.'

'I knew.'

Silence.

She wanted to hit him.

Instead she folded her arms.

'Move.'

'No.'

'I paid for this ticket.'

'Good.'

'Thomas.'

'Y/n.'

She clenched her jaw.

'I'm not marrying you.'

'I know.'

'Then why are you here?'

He took another drag before finally looking at her.

'Because Billy Kimber's men have been watching this station since yesterday.'

Her stomach dropped.

'...What?'

'You would've made it about six minutes.'

'You're lying.'

'Am I?'

As if on cue, two men wandered onto the platform outside.

They weren't boarding.

They were looking.

Looking for someone.

For her.

Thomas nodded towards the window.

'Look carefully.'

One of the men pointed in the direction she'd come from.

Another spoke to the station guard.

Billy Kimber hadn't forgotten about her.

She swallowed.

'Come home.'

'I don't have a home.'

He stood.

For a second she thought he'd grab her arm like everyone else seemed determined to do lately.

Instead he simply walked past her.

'Then come back to Richie's house.'

She hated that she followed him.

The streets were empty.

Not a single soul spoke as they walked through Birmingham.

Thomas walked a few steps ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets, cigarette balanced lazily between his fingers as though he hadn't just ruined her only chance of getting home.

Y/n stared holes into the back of his head.

'You're enjoying this.'

He didn't answer.

'Watching me fail.'

Still nothing.

She scoffed.

'You've always been an arrogant bastard.'

That earned her the smallest glance over his shoulder.

'You used to like that.'

She looked away before he could see the hurt flash across her face.

'That was before France.'

He said nothing after that.

The silence stretched between them once again.

By the time Uncle Richie's house came into view, she felt exhausted enough to collapse right there in the middle of the road.

Thomas stopped outside the gate.

She reached for it.

'Y/n.'

She didn't look back.

'What?'

'If you run tomorrow...'

She rolled her eyes.

'You'll send Arthur after me?'

'No.'

'John, then?'

'No.'

She finally turned around.

He looked almost bored.

'I will find you.'

She laughed.

'And?'

'And I'll bring you back.'

'You sound very confident.'

'I am.'

She folded her arms.

'What if I leave Birmingham?'

'I know London.'

'Fine. Paris.'

'I know people there.'

She smiled sarcastically.

'America?'

For the first time all evening, Thomas smiled.

It wasn't warm.

It wasn't cruel.

It was certain.

'Then I'll learn America.'

Her smile disappeared.

He took one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it onto the pavement and crushing it beneath his boot.

'You can keep running for the rest of your life, Y/n.'

He looked at her for a long moment.

'Eventually... you'll get tired.'

Silence.

'I'll still be there.'

He opened the gate for her.

'Go inside.'

She stood frozen.

Not because she'd believed his threat.

Because she believed he meant every single word.

She looked at him for another moment.

Then she looked away first.

‘...I hate you.’

‘I know.’

There was nothing else to say.

She pushed open the gate and walked towards the house, every step heavier than the last. She didn't slam the door behind her.

She wanted to.

Instead she closed it quietly.

Lou was still awake.

The woman looked up from the kitchen table the moment Y/n stepped inside.

‘Oh, thank heavens. I was beginning to-’

‘I'm tired.’

Lou stopped talking.

‘You should get some sleep, dear. Tomorrow is-’

‘I know what tomorrow is.’

Silence settled between them.

Lou opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, then thought better of it.

‘Goodnight, Y/n.’

‘...Goodnight."’

She climbed the stairs two at a time, shut herself inside her room and leaned against the door.

Her hands were shaking.

She told herself it was because of Billy Kimber.

Because she'd nearly been caught.

Because she'd nearly escaped.

It wasn't.

It was because Thomas Shelby had looked at her as though she'd never really had a choice.

She didn't bother getting undressed.

She sat on the edge of the bed until the sun began creeping through the curtains.

She left Birmingham five years ago, swearing she'd never come back.

Then one letter changes everything.

Now she's trapped in the city she escaped, hunted by dangerous men, haunted by the boy she once loved—and forced into an arranged marriage with the one person she'd rather die than call her husband.

Thomas Shelby isn't the boy she remembers.

He's colder. Crueler. Untouchable.

And surviving him might be harder than surviving the enemies trying to kill her.

A/n: pt. 2- so excited to share this with you all!! btw i forgot to mention this in the last part but this is my first time writing a fic also thank you for reading!!

do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with any of these warnings. you are responsible for your own media consumption. series warnings: minors, do not interact. Stalking, depression non-consensual detailed observation/description of intimate/sexual acts, language, violence, smut, not canon. tommy x reader. might make a master list later

After a few minutes of wandering, she finally stood in front of the theatre. She wasn’t going to leave without seeing Ada even though she was mad at her for what she did. Because in the end, her wish to see her best friend was greater than her wish to kill her.

She walked in and there she was, sitting with a man, half-heartedly.

‘Ada, you fucking idiot!’ She called out to her. Her fucking idiot turned her head to look at her and jumped out of her seat.

‘Y/n! I knew you would come,’ she exclaimed then looked at the man she was sitting with and said, ‘Well- Silas, I must get going now. I’ve got some very important things to do.’

They got out of the theatre with Y/n complaining the whole way. You shouldn’t have done something so careless. How could you be so ridiculously stupid. You scared me.

‘Oh look, if I wouldn’t have lied you would’ve never showed up and I would’ve probably died without seeing you even once.’

That shut her up. Because it was true. She would’ve never showed up.

‘But still, this was very cruel.’

‘I’m sorry, Y/n’

‘I’m sorry too, Ada.’

They were walking through the streets and for a while neither of them said anything. They had too much to say to each other but for some reason they just couldn’t start the conversation. It was a lot to take in, she thought. Ada looked so different and she was sure she looked different too.

‘Wait, is that blood on your hands, Y/n?’ Ada finally broke the silence and asked concerned.

‘I ran into some trouble at the station- some man tried to force himself on me- pfftt you know how messed up this place is- but I’m alright- I punched him in the face- and,’ she paused mid sentence because there he was, the same man from before standing in the crowd, staring at her in anger and frustration, ‘oh shit, uh that’s the guy, what does he want with me?’

For the first time in a very long time she felt terrified.

‘Tommy’s office is like five minutes away from here, come on, let’s go before we find any more trouble-‘ Ada said, grabbing Y/n’s hand and pulled her through the crowd.

‘Is he- of heavens- he is following us, Ada-‘

Before they knew, they were running and pushing through the crowd. When they reached Tommy’s office, Ada barged straight to where Tommy was, still holding Y/n’s hand.

‘What happened? You look like you saw a ghost- and is that Y/n? God, you’re all grown up- and is that blood on your hands-‘ Arthur got up from where he was sitting and looked at them, confused. Thomas Shelby stood up behind his desk and leaned against the wall, waiting for Ada to explain her actions.

The women stood there gasping for air, before explaining to him what they were doing there.

‘It was Billy Kimber,’ Ada said, with a sigh, ‘I- we were running through the crowd, yes, but I’m pretty sure it was him.’

‘Who’s Billy Kimber and is he a dangerous man?’

‘Yeah, he is- uh we got problems with him-‘ Arthur informed her.

‘I was going to go home- but I don’t know anymore. I don’t want some fucking man to stalk me- and he looked like he wanted to kill me- no I’m pretty sure he wanted to kill-‘

‘He won’t-‘ She looked up at Thomas, who was looking back at her with his cold blue eyes.

‘Well, why wouldn’t he? He’s already tried once- what’s stopping him to try again?’

‘Arthur, take her to Uncle Richie,’ Tommy ordered, ‘and you, stay there and don’t wander off if you don’t want to die or worse.‘

‘But I was going home-‘

‘Yeah, well, you’re not anymore.’

She was quiet the whole way to Uncle Richie’s house. Ada had apologized to her over and over again because she believed it was her fault. If only she hadn’t asked her to come. Arthur talked to her about how things had changed over the years and it was good to see her again. And Thomas Shelby, well, he had ordered her to stay in the house while he tried to fix her mistakes for her. He hadn’t said it was her fault but it sure did feel like it.

When they arrived at the house, she was on the verge of collapsing. She was tired of everything. She hadn’t had time to sit down properly even once. Arthur walked her to the door and ringed the doorbell. The house maid opened the door and gasped when she saw Y/n.

‘Oh hey Lou!’ Y/n smiled.

‘Oh goodness, Y/n! Mr. Y/l/n, look who it is!!’ Lou called for Uncle Richie excited and happy as she hugged Y/n.

‘Y/n? Oh it’s good to see you child- and good afternoon Arthur! What are you doing here?’ Uncle Richie said, cigarette smoke all around him. Y/n greeted him and hugged him.

And then they sat down in the living room and Arthur explained ‘the situation’ to her uncle while he listened to him with a serious face. He never did that so she knew it was really a huge matter.

Arthur went away after an hour of serious conversation saying he would come with with Thomas in the evening and Uncle Richie asked Lou to prepare her old room for her. They talked about how things were in London over tea. Y/n told him about all the cafe she was working in, how she was living with her roommate, Jack, who was a very kind man and had almost every book you could imagine. Then she told him about how Ada had tricked her into coming here but she meant no harm and she felt really bad about how Ada was blaming herself for what happened.

‘Well, I’m glad, you fought back-‘ he said with a proud smile, ‘I’m glad I taught you how to fight and use a gun-‘

‘And also how to torture and blackmail someone when necessary.’ She added with a grin.

They both laughed.

‘But I hope you do understand why I asked you to leave. And I hope you don’t hate me for it.’

‘Oh, I would never, Uncle Richie.’

Uncle Richie had raised her after her mother had passed away during the war. Her other worked as a military nurse and was killed right in spot. It was more than heartbreaking. She didn’t want to go back to her alcoholic and abusive father and her uncle made sure she didn’t. He raised her even when he could barely take care of himself. He taught her to live, to stand up, to fight and before he could fully understand, he had accidentally turned her into the same bloody monster he considered himself to be. The first time she didn’t flinch at the sight of a dead body, he knew he had to let her go, send her away from all this nonsense so that she could have a normal life. And so she left.

She spent the rest of the day looking through her old things— clothes, jewelry, books. She was looking at an old jewelry box when she found a small locket.

It had once belong to Thomas Shelby’s mother and then when she got sick one day she called Tommy and asked him to keep it, said it would keep him safe and then one day Tommy found her sitting alone and terrified in a corner, he realized that she needed it more than him so it got passed on to her.

She smiled when she saw it and put it on because she really needed to feel safe at the moment.

——————————

She didn’t remember when she had ended up dozing off but she felt a lot more refreshed than before when Lou came to tell her to come downstairs. She could hear Uncle Richie talking to the Shelbys.

‘God, I hope everything will be okay soon,’ she thought to herself as she looked in the mirror. Her hair was in a mess, no longer in a ponytail and she had no idea where her hair tie was. She fixed it as well as she could with her hands, put on her boots and walked downstairs.

‘Oh, Y/n, we were waiting for you,’ Uncle Richie said, uncharacteristically happy and kind. Was something wrong?

She suspiciously looked around the room before greeting the Shelbys and taking a seat. It was Arthur, Thomas and John. And Polly? What was Polly doing here?

‘So- when do I get to go back to London?’ She asked, hesitantly.

‘Look kid,’ her uncle started and she knew something very bad was coming her way, ‘unfortunately, you are not going to London. Billy Kimber is a crazy man and I don’t want to live in fear that he could do you harm at any given moment. So you’re staying here and-‘

‘But, I can take care of myself- you, you know it- just give me a gun- I’ll manage-‘

As if Uncle Richie hadn’t heard her, he continued.

‘And you’re marrying Thomas Shelby.’

‘I’m sorry, what?’ She couldn’t believe her ears. What in the world. Why? How? ‘This has to be a joke-‘

‘No, Tommy will keep you safe. And I don’t want to hear anything. This is an order.’

‘You can’t do this to me-‘

‘I’m doing this for your own good.’

‘I’d rather die- I won’t- I don’t want to marry anyone- are you listening to yourself-‘ she was screaming at him now. ‘Polly, tell him he’s being stupid.’

‘I’m sorry but he’s right, sweetheart,’ Polly told her. Oh great, so now Polly wasn’t on her side either.

So she glared at the three men. Arthur was sitting there trying to give her a comforting smile, John wouldn’t even look at her and Thomas Shelby, oh Thomas fucking Shelby was sitting there, cigarette in hand, looking back at her like she was some circus animal.

‘And you approve of this?’

‘Well, it’s good for business and it’s good for you too.’ He declared, calmly.

‘Oh great, I’m a fucking object that you can trade around for business- just great-,’ she laughed hysterically. Tears gathered around her eyes as she looked at her uncle and almost growled, ‘If you forced me into any of this shit, I swear to god I will run away, I will jump off a cliff and you won’t even get to bury me next to my sister-‘

She paused halfway through her sentence when a hand slapped her, violently, ruthlessly, brutally. It was her own fucking uncle.

‘You don’t get to say that to me when you know I care for you more than I care for me and it hurts me to see you like this.’

She stood there, holding her cheek with her hand, gasping for air, before stomping back upstairs to her bedroom. She knew she had to marry Thomas Shelby and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening.

It was impending, inevitable, like death.

Oh god, it felt like death to her.

SUMMARY: She left Birmingham five years ago, swearing she'd never come back.

Then one letter changes everything.

Now she's trapped in the city she escaped, hunted by dangerous men, haunted by the boy she once loved—and forced into an arranged marriage with the one person she'd rather die than call her husband.

Thomas Shelby isn't the boy she remembers.

He's colder. Crueler. Untouchable.

And surviving him might be harder than surviving the enemies trying to kill her.

A/n: pt. 1,

pt. 2 here- https://www.tumblr.com/jinxedcreature/823015579165376512/once-upon-a-broken-heart-pt2

so excited to share this with you all!!

do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with any of these warnings. you are responsible for your own media consumption. series warnings: minors, do not interact. Stalking, depression non-consensual detailed observation/description of intimate/sexual acts, language, violence, smut, not canon. tommy x reader. might make a master list later

The streets of Birmingham were the same as ever, strange and quiet. She was walking hurriedly, hand gripping her shoulder bag so very tightly that her knuckles were white. Her brown hair cut short to her neck was tied in a ponytail and a few loose strands of hair were on her sweaty forehead, despite the chill in the air. She walked past people, places, scents, she once knew to be familiar, she used to know her way around here but not anymore, not since she left five years ago for London. She never wanted to leave but what could she have done when the one person who she thought understood her looked at her like she was a stranger.

It was almost like Tommy, the boy she knew, left for war and died, and some uncanny stranger came back with his face, his voice, his eyes. And in that moment, she knew, that there was no one left for her here. The people who were there for her wanted her to get out of this town and never come back, not because they hated her, but because they loved her, they cared for her enough to let her go. They wanted her to have a good, innocent and, happy life. Whatever that meant.

But here she was, twenty-five, walking through the streets of this strange, cruel town, flesh and bones. Why? Because her dear Uncle Richie was sick, or so her best friend, Ada Shelby had written in her letter. Her best friend was the only person who was aware of her whereabouts. It wasn’t until she had arrived that she realized there was a fifty percent chance it could’ve been a lie and maybe Ada just wanted to see her. Oh, god, she was definitely lying in her letter. If her uncle had been sick she would’ve at least sounded a little worried but her letter was truly devoid of worry. Of course, she fell for it. She cursed Ada in her head and looked around with a heavy sigh.

But just because she was here didn’t mean she had to be here. No, she wouldn’t be here. She will take the train back to London right away, she thought and turned abruptly to the ticket counter when she bumped into someone.

‘God, I’m sorry.’ She mumbled and tried to walk away but the man, it was always some stupid man, took a hold of her hand.

‘What a beautiful thing you are-‘ he smirked. She visibly cringed at him and tried to break free of f his grip but he just wouldn’t let go. ‘Oh come on, don’t be a bitch.’

Before he could make a move, she punched him hard in the face, blood got on her knuckles and she sprinted off to a random direction, running past strangers on the platform, hoping that that embarrassing excuse of a man was not after her. And here she was, back in the dark streets of Birmingham.

She wandered around aimlessly because she had no idea where Uncle Richie’s house was. Which was very frustrating because everyone knew where he lived. Everyone apparently except for his own niece. She could find the Garrison, she thought, and then find her way from there. But which was was the Garrison again?

After half an hour of walking, she finally found it. There it was. The Garrison. It had pint changed much in appearance but very much like Tommy, there was uncanny coldness to it. She tried to remember the way to Uncle Richie’s house. Straight gown the street and then take a left after three blocks and continue from there, she thought when she heard the door to the Garrison open. Her eyes followed the hand at the door to see who it was, praying it wasn’t Thomas Shelby but to her much disappointment it was Thomas Shelby himself.

She cursed herself for coming here for the third time in the last two hours and turned around only to bump into someone, again. ‘Oh, just great-‘ she whispered under her breath.

‘I’m so very terribly sorry, sir,´ she said and looked up at the man who was staring back at her, mouth wide open. ‘Wait- John?’

‘Y/n? I thought you were dead,’ John Shelby said, still shocked and amused.

‘Well, unfortunately, I’m not,’ she said, brushing off invisible dust off her dress. Oh heavens, her dress. It was not what ‘respectable’ women wore, at least not in a place like Birmingham. Her dress was well above her knees. She had paired it with a long overcoat and boots (because she often ran into trouble and had to run off so decent shoes wouldn’t have been much help). She could’ve worn something different but it never crossed her stupid little mind that not everywhere was like London.

She sighed. She wanted to go see Uncle Richie but she didn’t dare turn around because she knew he was staring at her, his cold eyes sending shivers down her spine. Or maybe, just maybe it was the chill in the air.

‘I- is Uncle Richie dead?’ She asked and then winced at her own words. The words had come out a lot weirder than she had assumed it would. John stared at her like she was a crazy woman. She probably looked like one with her disheveled hair, tired eyes, bloody knuckles and, worn out long coat. ‘No, what I meant to ask was is he alive and well? Ada wrote to me, said he was on the verge of death and- well, is he sick?’

‘Well I think he was drinking at the Garrison last night- right? Thomas?’ John looked behind her at his brother who had been standing there coldly, listening, like the fucking twat he was.

He didn’t answer.

Was he waiting for her to turn around and look at him in his face? Considering the cruel and sick man he was, he probably did. So, she did what he wanted. With a deep sigh, gathered all her strength and turned around to face Thomas fucking Shelby.

Cigarette smoke hit her nostrils. It was very expensive she could tell. She felt disgusted, her lungs burned with the smoke and something more. Rage, perhaps.

‘Well, are you going to, I don’t know, maybe, answer that question or do I have to take a wild guess?’

John giggled at this because no one ever talked to Thomas Shelby like that. Though his giggling died down to a cough when he found his brother glaring at him. ‘I’m sorry, that was very funny.’

‘I guess he’s not dead after all…I should go home.’ She said and started for ‘home’ but then stopped in her tracks and turned back around and stated, ‘It was nice seeing you guys.’

‘Y/n, isn’t home that way?’ John called after her, confused.

‘Oh, no no no- I- I meant I’m going ‘home’- back to London.’ She stated and immediately regretted saying it because for a moment they genuinely looked almost sorry, even Thomas.

‘Uh- I mean- this is home too but like I don’t live here anymore and- I don’t well Uncle Richie didn’t want me to come back anyway because he thinks I shouldn’t be here so-,’ she started to explain herself, hoping it would be convincing enough, ‘where’s uh- where can I find Ada, btw?’

‘She went out with some man to the theatre, apparently,’ John told her.

‘Excuse me, what!?’ Y/n and Thomas asked in sync and then looked at each other out of- disgust? Or was it concern? Care, maybe? As if trying to say, ‘You could run away from me, you could hide but you would still be the only one who’ll ever understand me.’ Or perhaps it was hate- how dare you say the exact same thing as me at the exact same time? She wasn’t sure what it was.

‘Well, whatever, I’m should get going,’ she gave them a kind smile and turned around before John could stop her and most probably ask her to stay for a day or two, and hurried off towards the theatre or at least where she thought she could find the theatre. God, she had become a stranger in her own town.