The Way Things Were | Tommy Shelby x Reader
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A/N: Welcome back! I took a much needed break, and I’m praying it has assisted in fixing my writers block. Thank you for all being patient with me <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @itscheybaby
Chapter 12: Gone With The Wind
Your warning had been impossible to ignore, or so you thought. Maybe he had stuffed it into the furthest corner of his mind in an attempt to forget the truth leaving your lips. But the consequences had now come back to bite him, the error in his judgement jeopardising you all.
At this point, your anger must have been at its peak, your face had curled into a snarl. Your weary features were painted with frustration and determination, brows pulled together. You and Polly entered through the back door, having to brush the dust off of the handle. Your footsteps were silent as your eyes locked onto the girl, who appeared occupied with grabbing the last of her possessions.
She had just finished buttoning her scarlet coat.
"Going for good?" Polly queried.
Grace's breath hitched as her eyes lay on the matron, then settled on you. They snapped away to the floor as she continued to tie up the strings of her jacket. "I heard there was trouble", she explained.
"Instinct is a funny thing. You see, normally I can tell about a person, but with you-" Polly stopped, face grimacing as she failed to find the words.
As confident as ever, Grace turned to you both, "The fighting is about to begin. We should get out of here"
You were done with her, with her innocent charades, playing everyone for the fool. She had taken all that you had and twisted it to her favour. You were never the fool, you were brighter than ever, and you had caught her just as she had tried to make her grand escape. It was now your task to clean up the men's mess for them.
"We know who you are, we all do. That copper good as told him this mornin' but I wanted to hear it from your lips". Her face was sternly unmoved by your words, though you could still see an ounce of hot panic flicker through her eyes, the ones that she had so cleverly used to bend the Shelby Family to her will. "Men think with their dicks, dear. The biggest mistake you made was thinking we would just go along with it"
Polly's hand had secured an elongated pin from her hair and you felt your hair raise, itching for a fight. You watched attentively as Grace's nimble fingers inched towards her clutch before snapping it open to reveal a pistol. Blinking, you put your weight on one of your legs and your hand to your waist, perplexed.
Was she stupid? Or was she desperate?
"I am an agent of the crown. I have the power to arrest and the right to use force. So please step out of my way". You could tell the gun was rattling in her hands, even with the slightest movement, that if a breeze swept through the room, it would shatter her. If you hadn't been fuming, you might have even pitied her, going into this not knowing what to expect.
But alas, she had played her cards all wrong.
Polly only smiled, "Like I say, instinct is a funny thing. You fell for Tommy for real, didn't you? Shame you were just an escape"
Her lip quivered, eyes set on her targets, "This gun is loaded"
Polly shook her head dismissively, "We're not afraid of you. I feel sorry for you. Slip of a thing, thought you'd come in here and stitch us all up. We've had some copper narks in here before, but you? You're the Queen of them all"
Your gaze drifted across the cold, steel barrel of the gun, mouth quirking into a smirk. "So, who are you really? Little rich girl, daddy didn't love her enough so she went to go join the Unionists? An Ulster Volunteer? You think Fenians, Communists and low people are all the same, scum. But then you met Tommy, sauntered into our lives and began to rip it apart"
There was a clatter as her gun found the table, her hands beginning to roll up her sleeves without hesitation, "I'd fight you with my fists and show you how a rich girl fights. I'm from a tough family too"
"Nah" you combatted with a steely gaze, "You didn't have to fight for where you are. We came from nothing. Besides, we women have more sense. Why don't you pour us a drink instead?". Her nose was only separated from yours by a thin sliver of air, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. It felt as though the violin string was about to snap.
But instead of instigating, she drew away and took security behind the bar. You and Polly shared a look as Grace began to pour the drinks you had requested and brought them over. As she took a seat beside you and Polly at one of the smaller, damaged round tables, Polly looked up at her, cigarette posed between her lips.
"So am I right? Did you fall for Tommy?"
Grace was silent for a moment as she formulated a response, "Just as much as her"
Your eyelids shuttered close as you took a deep breath, feeling the air pass through your nose. Hand diving for the alcohol glass, you brought it to your lips, Grace’s eyes trained on the liquid as it fell down your throat. You gave a small grunt-ish murmur of disapproval.
"Then I pity you both". Polly took a long drag of her cigarette, head propped towards the window.
Grace's words were slow, the gravity just as heavy behind them, "I think he'll try to kill me"
You sat there in thought, eyes lost in the colour of your drink.
"Soft, like you. You saved his life the night the coppers came. That's why we're drinking, not fighting. We owe you"
"No more, no less" you added.
In the end, Grace left for good, not with her tail between her legs as you had hoped, but with enough certainty to know she wouldn't come back. By the next morning, she would be gone with the wind. Every trace of her existence would be erased, at least physically. You were racked with uncertainty as to the relationship problems it pertained. It had felt as though a chapter of the novel was ending, though you knew that the real fight had not yet been won.
You could not help but stare with beady eyes at the rosary that hung from a mirror in the kitchen of the shop. Fingers between your teeth, you closed your eyes softly as you exhaled.
“They’ll be alright, God’s watch”. You couldn’t describe yourself of a woman of faith, much less to the degree Polly was. But for all of its faults, you couldn’t help but find comfort in her assurance while she paced around the room.
Getting into a shootout with Billy Kimber was a suicide mission and yet you were subjected to stand by and watch. And Polly couldn’t help but treat it as another day in the office, so to speak. Her gaze was calm, only remotely presenting the discrepancies of distress. Even in her methodical pacing, you wanted to burst.
Two shots rang out and your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the gasp. The air in the room shifted as if it had been the flick of a switch. You watched as Polly stiffened at the stainless steel sink of the kitchen, not daring to move. Dust in the air fell between you both, catching through the sunlight in the window above the sink.
The room was spinning and you felt your footing become unsteady.
You rolled your lip between your teeth, hand tightening on a nearby wooden chair for stability. “Polly. Tell me where they’re meeting once it’s done. I have to-” you bit your tongue back, eyes gazing upon her silk-clad back.
There were a million things you had to say. Images flashed through your mind, of the people you loved bleeding out on the grimy streets of Small Heath. You imagined the guttural cry that would have torn from your throat, followed by the broken sobs as you would have pleaded with the reaper to take you instead.
Perhaps it was pity, or that she noticed the desperate inflection in your tone, but she spoke,
“The Garrison. Go”. Her words were a bark, bouncing off the empty walls of the betting shop.
Without another word, you were off, tripping down cobblestone as you went.
By the time you had arrived, pushing through the doors with certainty, you could no longer recall the time that had passed between the shop and here. Everything had merged into a blur of panic, palms becoming sweaty with anxiety. Your eyes had failed to catch up with your other senses as the first thing you heard when entering the bar was the restrained groans of a man. Eyes flickering over the bar in search of the noise, they quickly found the centre where a table sat, crowded by a handful of Peaky Blinders, including Arthur and Isiah.
Panic rose in your throat, disdain building at the acidic feeling of bile as it settled. Your body drove you forwards, prying to see who you suspected was Tommy sat on a chair, crying out in pain. Heart lurching, the cries continued as you analysed the situation. The brief flash of a blade caught your attention before it dove back into the pocket of skin that was Tom’s chest. You flinched, feeling the sweats beginning to creep in up the nape of your neck.
Isiah only dug further, your ears filled with the unpleasant sound of squelching as you looked on in horror.
With a final scream, Tommy’s body jutted backwards as if a demon had been released from it, only to slump over in defeat. You had never see him writhe in agony that way, and frankly, it made you want to writhe too.
“There! I still have the knack”
In Isiah’s hand was a miniscule bullet, plunged into a glass of cool water. His grin was bright and relief flooded the air. You felt yourself letting go of a breath you didn’t realise that you had been holding.
“Tom?” You called out, feeling your voice lose its power as it travelled across to the men. Your uncertainty still managed to catch Tommy’s ears as his pained gaze fluttered towards you, then to be broken as Arthur’s hand made contact with Tommy’s head.
Shoving a large bottle of alcohol into his face, Arthur instructed, “Have a drink”
Tommy took the drink without hesitation, a bead of sweat dripping from a loose strand of hair. His downcast glare was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine, let alone as he swigged the bottle of vodka.
“Alright, deep breath” Arthur declared before pushing the lip of the bottle to Tommy’s chest. Tommy cried out, and you imagined the unbearable burn as the liquid made contact with his open wound. “That’s it! It’s done”, and the bottle was ripped away.
Your skin was itching with a newfound intensity, set on fire as you grappled with the insatiable urge for a cigarette. Ada was definitely right. Everyone was addicted to something these days. Snow, alcohol, cigarettes. It was all the same.
“Does anyone have a cigarette?” you quizzed rather sharply, making your presence known to the wider majority. Only a handful of eyes snapped upwards to meet you, though it was Arthur that finally responded with a casual flick of the wrist. He dove into his breast-pocket, emerging with a tightly rolled cigarette.
You took it thankfully, already feeling the craving dissipate. With one hand, you took the lighter to it, and with the other, shielding the flame from oncoming wind. Arthur shook his head in quick and fluid motion,
“Weren’t you told to stay with Polly?”
“Yes, well she told me to come and check on you lot” you made a wide gesture to the mess before you, “Make sure you didn’t die, or get into any trouble”
A snort escaped Tommy’s lips as he slid his shirt on once again.
The canal was a place you didn’t travel to often, but when you did, you were always seeking clarity.
Between the peaceful drone of the steadily flowing water or the buzzing of each dragonfly, your mind was truly about to wander. For a while, you would walk the length of it, pacing and humming in thought. On the occasion, a man would shout for you not to fall, though by the sickening look on their smug faces, you were sure they wouldn’t mind seeing you get drenched. But you found yourself at a quietened part where the canal split off under a bridge into smaller rivers. Discarded dingy boats sat on the water like pieces of soaked bread in a cold bowl of soup. Bales of hay were stacked carelessly against the wall of the underside of the bridge.
A crack of a smile fell upon your features as you relished in the memories.
“So why did you bring me here?” you had posed, pouting every so slightly. If Tommy had noticed, he had not indicated it.
You were much older now, older than you were when you used to run out into the paddocks and sleep peacefully beneath the willows. You were old enough to know better, to not sneak off with your best friend anymore. The whole of Small Heath had a way of knowing, and each venture became more risky than the last. They all had their eye planted firmly on you both.
You had taken a glance around the place before quickly determining it was in a rather decrepit state. Except for the bales of hay, which were bright with colour in contrast to the stark grey water. Even the trees, which loomed over the canal, were just slivers of sharp and barren branches.
The teenager had his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers, his mind seemingly wandering.
“Tom?” You queried, exchanging a strange look at the boy, whose face became distant. He turned to look at you, and for a moment, you felt as though you were suffocating under his eyes. He shook his head softly,
“I just wanted to escape”
Your eyes narrowed and you took a breath, attempting to find the right words. The boy took a seat at the edge of the canal, letting his legs hang over the side. You paused, then followed his motion, planting yourself squarely next to him. “Are you and Greta fighting again…?”. Your words were just as soft as your fingers, Tommy quickly worked out, as your hand brushed loosely at his for reassurance.
“We aren’t seeing each other anymore” he stated matter-of-a-factly.
Your face fell with worry, but neither of you spoke. There was an understanding between the both of you. He sighed and his brows crinkled into a frown.
You gazed upon the water with intensity, the gentle creak of trees filling your ears. Even the budding moss sitting atop the water appeared to sway to the same rhythm. You weren’t sure when he had arrived but you carried on all the same.
You could make out the faint outline of his boot from the corner of your eye and shifted your hands to rest in your lap. His figure, covered with his black coat, stood large, eyes observing you.
It seemed neither of you really wanted to speak, not wanting to break the silence. There were things yo u had to say but you felt as though words fell short.
So, taking a breath, you asked a simple question, “Are you alright?”, referring to his wound.
He took a second before his expression flashed with realisation, hand falling beside his ribs. “Just a scratch”
Your eyebrow quirked as your attention turned back to the water, mouth fallen sorrowfully. With a gentle gulp of your throat, your hands bunched to the fabric of your dress. There was the sound of a match and you watched as the flickering light flew into the murky canal water with ease.
“I don’t know why I do the things I do, one of life’s many mysteries”. The words began spilling from your mouth without explanation. “But Grace-”
“She was a mistake”. Tommy threw his hand up into the air, trying to think of anything to say. You could tell from the way his lip curled that he was doing his best not to let his emotions get in the way, “My mistake”
“ It was not my place to judge how you spent your time, I just wanted what was best for you, and for the family. It’s unfair, given everything that has happened, and how nothing has been the same since...”
You offered a weak smile and a shrug, “We’re just trying to navigate the new world and not get lost in it”
Just as he had done when he was a teenager, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, almost as if he was nervous. “Still... I kissed you. And then to go for another woman... maybe it would be ‘right if it was anyone but you. But having done that to you, to (Y/N)...”
You were both standing now, his eyes roaming across you. You could have gotten lost in them, suffocated by the watery abyss. Everything about Tommy could suffocate you, pull you down like a ball and chain while you sank under the waves, but in doing so, you had never felt more alive. Every touch, every glance set your skin ablaze. You never wanted anyone else.
And here you were, eyes fluttering through your eyelashes with your gaze planted squarely on his lips.
Tommy’s brows crinkled, as if fighting an internal battle, and the bloody war was raging on inside him.
Within a moment, his lips matched yours hungrily. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage as you kissed him back. His fingers danced on your arm, like you were a doll, too fragile to grip. You could feel the grin of his lips press against yours, sending your brain into a fuzzy mush.
“Tommy-” you whined out in a low tone.
“I could get used to that sound, love”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A/N: And that, my loves, was the end of Season 1! Don’t worry, I know Season 2 follows a large time gap so I will be filling that in instead of jumping ahead. I hope you’ve all enjoyed the season and are satisfied with its end.
Also, as you can all probably tell, I have created a taglist for this series. So, if you would like to recieve notifications whenever the next post is out, please just DM me (make sure not anonymously) to let me know you’d like to be added to the taglist <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
