Retschina

[ MASTERLIST ] • [ CREEPY AU ]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: My first preferences ever! And it’s set in some creepy AU that lives rent free in my head… I swear, I’m not a creep myself 😬 It all has started with my Michael Gray stories where he’s acting like a creep, then I wanted to try something with Tommy, but I decided to make it with more people… Basically, it’s just exploring the darker side of them and yes, they’re out of character on purpose. It’s an AU. They’re creeps here – you are being warned. It’s 18+ because it contains smutty headcanons as well. I tried for it to be GENDER NEUTRAL. I feel like most of my fanfics explore domestic side of our beloved gangsters, but hey, they’re the bad guys 🙂 TBH idk if I’ll be writing anything set in this AU ever again – only if requested!

CONTAINS: Tommy Shelby, Arthur Shelby, John Shelby, Finn Shelby, Michael Gray, Isaiah Jesus, Bonnie Gold

TRIGGER WARNING: dark, creepy themes, perhaps some yandere (I’m not an expert in that matter, but I think it has lots of yandere vibes…?)

WARNING: English is my second language.

🔞 NSFW UNDER THE CUT AND 18+

During one visit, Ruth noticed the nurses would draw straws, afraid to go into one room, its door sealed by a big red bag. She asked why and the nurses told her the patient had AIDS.

On a repeat visit, and seeing the big red bag on the door, Ruth decided to disregard the warnings and sneaked into the room.

In the bed was a skeletal young man, who told Ruth he wanted to see his mother before he died. She left the room and told the nurses, who said, "Honey, his mother’s not coming. He’s been here six weeks. Nobody’s coming!”

Ruth called his mother anyway, who refused to come visit her son, who she described as a "sinner" and already dead to her, and that she wouldn't even claim his body when he died.

“I went back in his room and when I walked in, he said, "Oh, momma. I knew you’d come", and then he lifted his hand. And what was I going to do? So I took his hand. I said, "I’m here, honey. I’m here”, Ruth later recounted.

Ruth pulled a chair to his bedside, talked to him

and held his hand until he died 13 hours later.

After finally finding a funeral home that would his body, and paying for the cremation out of her own savings, Ruth buried his ashes on her family's large plot.

After this first encounter, Ruth cared for other patients. She would take them to appointments, obtain medications, apply for assistance, and even kept supplies of AIDS medications on hand, as some pharmacies would not carry them.

Ruth’s work soon became well known in the city and she received financial assistance from gay bars, "They would twirl up a drag show on Saturday night and here'd come the money. That's how we'd buy medicine, that's how we'd pay rent. If it hadn't been for the drag queens, I don't know what we would have done", Ruth said.

Over the next 30 years, Ruth cared for over 1,000 people and buried more than 40 on her family's plot most of whom were gay men whose families would not claim their ashes.

sorry this was so cute i had to quickly just:

When you get home from work, Arthur’s sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you. You kiss his cheek as you pass, dumping your bag and keys on the table after. ‘God,’ you sigh, ‘I need tea, or a gin.’

He clears his throat before saying, ‘Fifteen,’ like you’d have any idea what that meant.  

‘What?’ You shrug out of your coat, hanging it over the back of the nearest chair. ‘Fifteen?’

He grunts, nodding, looking between you and the hands in his lap. ‘Yeah, fifteen kisses. That’s all I had today.’

You laugh once. ‘You count them? Why?’

‘On Friday, I got twenty-two,’ he says, standing from his seat, ‘Saturday thirty, Sunday twenty-five. So, what’s happened, eh? Hm?’ He’s crossed the small space to stand beside you, playing with the hair by your face as he talks. ‘Did I do something?’

‘Arthur, come on.’ You think he’s joking, but his brows sink like he’s hurt. ‘I’ve been busy, that’s all.’

He hums. ‘Yeah, too busy, if you ask me.’ Taking your cheeks in his hands, he kisses you, making it sixteen. ‘I’m starting to miss ya,’ he says, after pulling away again.

‘You’ve gone soft.’

‘It’s important.’

Seventeen.

You smile against his lips. ‘What would the boys think, if they knew you kept tally like this?’ you whisper, before giving him the eighteenth.