I S L A

Interviewer: Hi, guys! I'm so excited to have you all here today. Everyone is so excited to learn more about The Umbrella Academy after your debut at that bank robbery. Amazing! So, what are your names?

Luther: I'm Number One

Diego: I'm Number Two

Allison: I'm Number Thr--

Interviewer: Wait, wait. Are you all... numbered?

Klaus: The fuckin’ bastard never named us

Ben: KLAUS!

Klaus: Huh? Oh, sorry. The freakin’ bastard never named us

Five: No, you had it right the first time

Diego: But our mom gave us names! Legally, we're still named after numbers, but she and Pogo don’t use our numbers

Interviewer: Oh. That's nice... Who is Pogo?

Ben: Pogo’s a talking monkey! He helps raise us

Interviewer: What??

Luther: Mom’s a robot

Diego: SHE IS NOT JUST A ROBOT

Klaus: Momma’s Boy

Diego: Daddy’s B- Oh, sorry. I thought Luther said that

Luther:

Allison: Dad made her to look after the seven of us

Interviewer: Seven? But I thought there were only six of you

Five: That's because our father locks our other sister in a cupboard to punish her for being born without powers

Interviewer: Oh my-

Luther: Hey! No, no! He has never- Five is exaggerating. He never locked Vanya in a cupboard

Five: Well, he might as well have

Diego: He did lock Klaus in a mausoleum, though

Interviewer: WHY?

Klaus, pulling out a flask of vodka: I see dead people

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Charge All Four Officers

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Pass The Georgia Hate Crime Bill

Defund MPD

Life Sentence For Police Brutality

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Joao Pedro - change.org

Julius Jones - change.org

Belly Mujinga - change.org

Willie Simmons - change.org

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National Action Against Police Brutality

Kyjuanzi Harris - change.org

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Sean Reed - change.org

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Kendrick Johnson - change.org

Tamir Rice - change.org

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Fire Racist Criminal From The NYPD

Jamee Johnson - organizefor.org

Darius Stewart - change.org

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Abolish Prison Labor

Free Siyanda - change.org

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Andile Mchunu (Bobo) - change.org

Eric Riddick - change.org

Amiya Braxton - change.org

Emerald Black - change.org

Elijah Nichols - change.org

Zinedine Karabo Gioia - change.org

Angel Bumpass - change.org

Sheku Bayoh - change.org

Angel DeCarlo - change.org

Sandra Bland - change.org

Sherrie Walker - change.org

Darrien Hunt - change.org

Cornelius Fredericks - change.org

Elijah McClain - change.org

James Scurlock - change.org

Darren Rainey- change.org

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Do something!

thank you so much! means a lot <3 i hope this is okay!

Stolen Secrets

Sirius x artist!reader

Requested by: Anon

Any and all feedback welcome <3 twenty first fic :)

Word Count: 1389

“Blasted sketchbook,” you mumble to yourself, looking around aimlessly for it. You’d looked everywhere. The dorm room, the common room, the Great Hall, the astronomy tower, the- Oh. The library.

You rushed over to the library, sure that that was where it was. You’d looked everywhere else and that was the only other place you’d been today. You went straight for the table you were sitting at but found nothing. You searched the other tables. Nothing. You looked in every aisle of bookcases. Nothing. You went back to your table, desperately searching where you’d already looked. Finally, under the bench, lay a small sketch of a mandrake. Your sketch. Someone had your book.

The next day, you sat in the Great Hall, eyeing everyone while eating your breakfast.

“You aren’t expecting to telepathically figure it out are you y/n?” your friend teases.

“No! But they might give it away, they might look guilty,”

“Anyone will look at you guiltily when you’re staring at them like that,” they laugh. You turn to glare at them, but relax your features, knowing they’re right.

“Look, If someone has it, they’ll give it back. Don’t worry,” they assure you. It didn’t make you feel any better though. That sketch book was private, harbouring secrets. Looking at it was like looking at a part of you, the part you rarely showed to anyone.

Sirius wouldn’t look at you during breakfast. He didn’t want to give anything away. He’d found your sketchbook the previous day. When he looked inside, he didn’t expect to find such talent. You were a wonderful artist. You could capture anything perfectly. The green houses, the Great Hall, plants, the black lake, your friends. And then he saw it, the sketches of him. Just two, one was side on and the other face on. It was strange, seeing himself on paper like this. You’d certainly made him look better than he did in person. Your drawings were just impeccable. He didn’t know you could do this, and it just made you more alluring.

But you’d never fallen for his antics. He’d tried flirting with you, but to no end. One particular time he could remember was in Charms, you hadn’t been rude but you made it clear you weren’t interested. With your words. Your body language suggested otherwise. A challenge, the biggest challenge he’d ever had. For months, his only focus was you. And this sketch book proved it wasn’t all for nothing.

He wanted to give it back to you in person, he didn’t want to just leave it somewhere for you to find. He wanted to be there.

Later that evening, Sirius sits on his bed, looking through the sketchbook. He couldn’t stop looking at it, analysing every detail of every sketch. Then he turned to the sketches of himself and allowed his mind to wander to you. What were you thinking when you drew them? Where were you and where was he when you drew them? Was it possible that you actually liked him? James barges through the door, mouth full of food, shattering Sirius’ thoughts. He frantically searches for a place to hide the book and ends up shoving it under the bed, rather obviously.

“What are you doing?” James asks.

“Nothing,”

James gives a quizzical look but doesn’t press his friend any further. It’s then Sirius realises that he really needs to find a way to give it back.

You’re in your dorm room, rummaging through your suitcase. You’re looking for your other sketch book, the one that was supposed to be started after you finished the other. But now, after almost five days of it being missing, you finally gave up hope. You took your new sketchbook and left the room, heading for the greenhouses. Perhaps you could recreate some of the ones you’d already drawn. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be close.

Sirius watched as you left the Gryffindor tower, a new sketchbook in hand. Oh no. He ran back up to his dorm, retrieved your stolen sketchbook from under his bed and ran after you. He followed you all the way to the greenhouses. It was lightly raining and both Sirius and you hid your sketchbooks under your robes, safe from damage. Sirius walked all the way to the door but stopped before entering. He watched you walk into the middle of all the plants and single one out. He recognised it from the book he was holding. Before you had the chance to begin, he walked in and held out the sketchbook to you, a small smile on his face, masking his guilt.

“I’m sorry, I just found it and I didn't know whose it was at first. But I do now,” he lies, he knew exactly whose it was, it never left your side. You blush deeply, knowing that there were sketches of him inside.

“Thank you. Did you look?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah I did, sorry. Though I didn’t know I was your muse,” he grins.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, taking the sketchbook back, into the hands of whom it belonged.

“I’m not!” Sirius jumps in, “You’re an amazing drawer. I’m just happy you drew me, I look much better on paper,”

“I have to disagree,” you smile. “You look much better in person, or I wouldn’t have attempted to capture it on paper,”

His grin widens. “So you think I’m handsome,” he says, as he leans against the wall.

“Yes, I thought that would’ve been obvious,” you say, challenging him at his own game. He blinks, taken aback by your forwardness, your bluntness. Girls weren’t like you, they usually stumble over their words around him, blush and agree with all he had to say or laugh incessantly at it. Or they just said what he wanted to hear and how he wanted to hear it. That could get awfully boring.

“You’re not like anyone I know,” he confesses.

“And you know me do you?”

“A little, I’ve seen you around. Don’t you remember in Charms when-“

“When you tried to flirt with me. It wasn’t just Charms,” you laugh.

“No it wasn’t. So why didn’t you let me flirt with you?”

“Because if I had made it easy, you would’ve stopped,”you say, immediately regretting it. You avert your eyes away from him to the floor.

His grin fades a little at your confession. You did like him. He pushes himself up from the wall and walks over to you. He still can’t quite believe it. You try to walk backwards, and escape him, but there’s a wall stopping you. You didn’t mean to reveal that, it just came out. You did like Sirius, a lot, but he’d flirted with all the girls. Why should it be different for you? After a while, Sirius would get bored and move on, but he hadn’t with you, because you hadn’t fallen. And if this was the way to keep him, then you’d do it. But now that was all ruined.

“You’ll get bored of me,” you whisper. You can barely hear yourself over the beat of your own heart.

“Never. You're the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” he says, in a low husky voice. He stops walking, inches away from you. Mere inches. Until he closes the gap by brushing his lips against yours. It was more of a question, but you gave your answer by deepening it. You were pressed between the cold wall of the greenhouse and his warm, lean body. His hands travelled up from your torso, to your face. Yours grip his ivory hair tightly and cup his jaw. His tongue dances against your bottom lip, igniting a fire within you. He pins one hand up above you and dips his head to the opposite side to kiss and nibble the delicate skin of your neck. You pull his head back up, fighting the urge to go further and kiss him tenderly on the lips before pulling away, coming up for a much needed breath.

“And I’ll certainly never get bored of that,” he smirks.

“You’re just lucky I didn’t start my new sketchbook, or this could’ve gone a lot differently,” you tease.

“Just in time then,” he squeezes your hand.

“Just in time,” you whisper.

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Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by @randombella: ‘Hi, I absolutely love your writing! Could I request a Tommy x reader where she’s a childhood friend of all the Shelbys and then she’s got some kind of illness and keeps getting sicker but tries to hide it. But then Tommy finds out and everyone’s angry at her for hiding it and makes her get treatment. Thank you so much! Xx’

Characters: Tommy Shelby x Reader, John Shelby x Reader (platonic), Arthur Shelby x Reader (platonic), Polly Shelby x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, illness (including pain), injury, arguing, angst, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Another morning waking up in pain, another morning where I hid that away from my closest friends. I slowly sat up, having to pause for a second as my head was spinning. After a while, I thought I would be used to it. Pushing through it, I forced myself to stand, stumbling my way to the wardrobe. I had to get dressed and ready before going to have breakfast, because I found it harder to make my way back up the stairs again. The pain subsided for a while, my headache disappearing, but my muscles still aching.

The cold nipped at me as I stepped outside, wrapping my coat tighter around me and making sure my hat was secure on my head. We never received good weather, and it made me feel worse every day. It didn’t help that I was vulnerable to colds that could keep me in bed for up to a week, and this would be my first day back after having to take some time off, again.

“Here she is!” Arthur bellowed as I stepped into the betting shop.“Dunno how we’ve all survived without your gorgeous face round 'ere.”

“Don’t get too close Arthur, I’m still not fully recovered.”

“No, nothin’ is stopping this.” he hugged me tightly, not realising how much pain he was causing.

I winced, holding in the whimpering as he let go, smiling as I quickly turned around, heading to my desk outside of John’s office. I had been his secretary for many years, I had been there when the business first started. The Shelby’s and I were close, we were there for each other throughout everything. And after my parents died, they were the only ones I had left. They were sickly like I was, and I feared that I too would follow suit. But no one else needed to worry about me, especially not my boys.

“What time do you call this? Been slacking off all week and you waltz in fifteen minutes before we open?” John teased as he opened the door to his office, leaning against the door frame.

“It’s called being on time. I’m here before all the other workers as you can see.” I stated, meaning back in my chair and smirking.

“I’m just messing. You give them lot a bad name.”

“I just like being here. It’s better than being alone in my house. And I’ve been stuck there for a whole week.”

“Yeah, we meant to visit but-”

“But you had business. Don’t worry, I understand.”

“Just seems that you’ve been getting ill quite a lot recently-”

“John, I’m fine. It’s just this weather.”

He looked me over with concern, nodding his head slowly before going back into his office. The tension in my shoulders dropped, glad that he dropped the topic before any questions were asked. No one else needed to worry about me, and I didn’t want anyone else knowing.

As usual, the shop was busy. Everyone was bustling about, and it was getting far too hot already. Men were constantly walking by me, some even bumping into my desk which pissed me off. John was working on the bets too, so my work was limited. It always was with him, Tommy handled more of the paperwork. And speaking of, I hadn’t seen Tommy once that day.

However, after another hour, the noise, humidity of the room and generally the people, were getting to me,

“I’m going for my break.” I struggled to tell John as he was surrounded by other workers.

I heard him acknowledge me, though I wasn’t sure what he had actually said. Taking it as a yes, I left anyway, relieved to be in the fresh air. As I stood in the backyard, I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as I tried to cool off. My headache was back, and my back hurt from being stuck at the desk. The pain made me want to cry, but I couldn’t show that in front of anyone. Save the tears for home.

“(Y/N)?” Tommy appeared, making me jump.

I broke out into a cough as I gasped, turning away as if that would hide me from him. I felt his hand on my back, and I moved away, quickly recovering.

“You shouldn’t be back.” he simply stated.

“I’m fine. You just made me jump.” I breathed out, standing up straight.

He was silent, about to light a cigarette before putting it back in the box.“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“I might not be fully recovered, but I’m completely fine to work.”

“If you say so.”

I huffed, rolling my eyes.“Tommy, I’m capable of working right now. I don’t need you all to babysit me.”

“We’re just looking out for you-”

“Yes, well…I can do that by myself, thank you!”

My anger had come from no where, making me falter slightly, and I had to use the wall for support. Tommy reached out to me to help, but my arm shot out, rejecting it.

“I’m going back inside. I need to get back to my work.” I mumbled, trying to ignore the dizziness as I walked away.

“(Y/N), woah, hold on.” Polly blocked me from entering the shop, and I groaned at her.

“Polly, I’m fine. Let me get past.” I snapped.

“No you’re not. I’m not an idiot, anyone can see that you’re about to faint at any minute.” she directed me to a chair close by.

“Pol-”

Her hands went to her hips.“Shut up. Tommy, have you seen the state of her?”

Tommy stood beside her.“Yes.”

“Well, why haven’t you sent her home?”

“She says she’s perfectly fine.”

“Oh for fucks sake. You are going home, now.”

“What? Polly, you can’t be serious.”

“I fucking am. I’m not going to make you work if you look like you’re about to drop.”

“But I’ve been off for a week.”

“Doesn’t matter. Get home and rest properly.” the scowl on her face softened.“Please.”

I sighed, wanting to retaliate and stubborn, but I could already feel the energy draining from me; glancing at the clock, I saw that I had a long time left, and I knew that I wouldn’t last long.

“Fine.” I huffed.“I’ll go.”

“I’ll walk you.” Tommy offered.

I went to say no, but Polly’s eyes warned me not to.“Go with Tommy. I’ll be round at some point to check that you’re eating properly too.”

This isn’t what I wanted. The Shelby’s had done so much for me in the past. We were next door neighbours since children, my dad even got involved with the gang side of things because the boys were always able to cut him a good deal, they wanted to help provide for our family. My mum didn’t care that he was a blinder, as long as he came home alive and spent time with me. And of course, there was that fucking war, and my boys came back entirely different men. It took a long time to build up our relationships again, to be able to laugh freely.

“Tommy, I’m sorry you have to walk me home. I know you’ve got better things to do.” I said as we left the shop.

“No I don’t.”

I didn’t know what else to add, deciding to say nothing. As I unlocked my house, I didn’t expect Tommy to follow inside. I said nothing against it, knowing he would have come in despite my objections.

“Are you here to spoon feed me?” I deadpanned, taking off my coat and setting down my handbag as if he wasn’t there.

“Why are you pushing us away?”

“I’m not. I just don’t think I need this much fussing over.”

I made my way to the kitchen, sitting at the tiny dining table. My body was relieved, relaxing slightly, though the numbing pain was still there.

“(Y/N), look at yourself. You’re not like you used to be.” he sat opposite me.

“I’m exactly the same.”

“No you’re not! You don’t move around like someone your age. I don’t see you interacting with anyone as much as you used to. And…and you don’t dance anymore.”

I hadn’t seen Tommy this upset for years. It was breaking my own heart.

“You used to dance all the time. Any music that played and you were up dancing, didn’t matter where we were either. You were always able to get John or Arthur, even Finn to get up with you. Never me though. I haven’t danced with you enough.”

“Tommy, you make it sound like I’m dying.” my voice was shaky, knowing there was truth in my words.

He hadn’t broke eye contact, but I saw a change of emotion in his eye.“Because you just might be.”

“T-Tommy I’m not dying.”

“Then why are you so scared? Have you been to a doctor?”

“There wasn’t any need-”

“Have you seen yourself?” Tommy was beginning to get angry.“Why haven’t you been?”

“Because I know that this is just a small illness! I-I haven’t fully recovered.”

“(Y/N), stop lying to yourself. Please let me take you to a doctor, or get one sent here.”

“Tommy! I don’t need you to look after me anymore!” I suddenly shouted, silencing the both of us.

Instantly regretting what I said, my heart was telling me to apologise, but my stubborn mind refused to. Tommy sighed, standing up to leave, but before he did, he kissed me on the forehead. I stayed in my seat as he left, laying my head down on my arms to cry. I didn’t want to argue with him, I didn’t mean to shout. Why hadn’t I just talked with him?

Although tears were stilling spilling out of my eyes, I got up and made myself a cup of tea, needing a distraction. But what with the stress and due to how tired I was, I sat back down again, sipping at my tea. I had one of those moments where the time disappeared in an instant, I felt like I blinked and it was suddenly dark outside. Though I hadn’t thought about anything, my mind had been blank. Perhaps that was my way of pushing away the situation at hand.

There was a knock at the door, and I knew it was Polly. No doubt she came to feed me, and she would definitely make me eat. Slowly standing, I called out to her, letting her know I was coming, when I felt dizzy again. Holding onto whatever was nearest to me, I struggled to walk to the door, which should have taken me less than ten seconds. Polly’s voice was muffled behind the door, but I could hear my breathing ever so loudly in my ears. My upper body wasn’t able to hold itself upright, and I fell against the wall. Trying to stand up straight, I swayed backwards, before tipping forwards and collapsing, but not before smashing my head against the stair banister. 

The same pounding in my head I usually woke up with was still there, though the throbbing pain throughout my body was more intense. Was Tommy right? Was I getting closer to death? I opened my eyes, preparing myself to face another day, when I realised that I wasn’t at home. The ceiling was white, and much higher than mine in my room. And as I started to gather my surroundings, it was clear that I wasn’t laying in my bed, it was too bright in here to be my room, and the smell was too strong; it smelt too clean in here, too sterile. 

“Tommy?” I mumbled as I realised he was sat in a chair next to the bed. He looked rough, it was clear that he had been here all night with me.

His head pricked up when he heard me, rubbing his hand over his face.“You’re alright. You fell yesterday, hit your head badly.”

“I don’t really remember that.”

“It was lucky that Polly was there. She kicked the door in and called us. Drove you here as fast as we could.”

“I’m sorry Tommy. I’m sorry for making you all worry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does though.” I stretched out my hand towards him, glad when he held it.“I could have easily solved all of this, I could have just gone to the fucking doctors and got all of this sorted before it got worse. But…but I didn’t want to end up like my parents.”

“Why?”

“Because they got sick towards the end of their lives. And although they were old, they were still too young to have died. I just thought…if whatever I have has come from them, and I have it now, I was scared that I would go too. And I couldn’t stand it if I left all of you, and I wouldn’t want to be a distraction from your work. Being a Shelby is hard enough, you didn’t need me to add to that pile of work.”

“You are not a distraction, and you are not another fucking problem I have to deal with. You are my family. I would rather be dealing with another mafia target than seeing you like this, stuck in a fucking hospital. That’s why we all told you to come here, to get better. You’ve got all of us here for you.”

“I know. I’ve been an idiot for not letting you all in.”

“Yeah, you have.”

A small laugh came out of both of us.“Tommy, am I going to be alright?”

“They haven’t gone into too much detail, but they assured me that you are no where near to death.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. It’s going to take a while, but they have the right treatment for you. But they said you have to take it easy, you must rest. So you won’t be coming back into work.”

“What? But Tommy-”

“I’ll cover your funds.”

“I can’t let you-”

“Yes you can, because I already have. And you’re also going to give us all a copy of your key, because I knew you wouldn’t want to be living anywhere else.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

My eyes cast down, suddenly embarrassed to say it.“I wouldn’t object to living with you.”

“With me?”

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want me around.”

“No, I do. I think I can cope with you.”

I smiled at him, squeezing his hand.“Thank you Tommy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Requested by @violetsdicaprio “Okay so, can I request a Finn Shelby fic where he uses the prompt “you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Maybe Season 4 when Changretta is there and he has ordered an attack on the reader maybe because she found out something, like she overheard something in a bar?” Hope you enjoy it love xx

We run into a dark room, And we spasm to the sounds

You shouldn’t even have been at that bar in the first place, You should have been at a Shelby family meeting (something which you had been introduced to a few months ago, when Finn and yourself had gotten engaged,), but for the first time, you blew it off. That was what bugged you afterwards, and if you could communicate with your past self, you would scream not to agree to a night out with your sister and her husband. But you did. You were excited, not having seen your sister since she found out she was pregnant several weeks ago, due to clashed schedules, and a hell of a lot of work commitments - because working at the Shelby Company wasn’t your typical nine to five job -  you had yet to congratulate her in person. Finn was supposed to be accompanying you, but he had said he couldn’t at the last minute, saying Polly had insisted he was at the meeting (and wasn’t best pleased that you weren’t going to be there, either).

And so, that was how you had found yourself in your current situation, irritated at Finn after yet another argument,  tired from work, with the swollen ankles that came from the precariously high heels you insisted on wearing. You were nursing your second glass of a rather strong whiskey, standing and waiting for your sister, who was never on time, as scatterbrained as she was. You half had zoned out looking around at the people in the bar, laughing and dancing to jazz music. You looked at a young couple, smiling at each other, positively lost in each other’s eyes, and wondered just when Finn and you had lost that childhood sweetheart innocence.

You were half in another world, until you heard the utterance of ‘Shelby’ behind you, in a thick accent that sounded rather suspiciously Italian. 

Of a copy of Morrissey , Or the blues of the Deep South

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You barely even moved whilst you tried to listen to what the men were saying. They probably didn’t expect for anyone associated with the Shelby’s to be here, in this bar several miles away from Watery Lane, a place that was nowhere near where the Peaky boys patrolled, with their guns that gleamed in the light of the streetlamps, that inspired fear in others, but a feeling of safety in you. They were speaking English, surely a way for them to fit in more with the scenery around you, to not arise any suspicion, but you’d know that accent anywhere. It had been drilled into you, practically, and as one of the men said Luca in a low tone, you knew it was the Changretta’s sat behind you. You should have ran then, sprinted away, never looked back. But you stayed, swirling your drink in your glass, watching the intoxicating amber liquid go round and round and round.

And the drugs will only hide it

“You are being stupid, Luca.” A man’s voice spoke harshly.

That fucking name Luca. The name of the man who had so ruthlessly and callously ordered his men to kill your future brother-in-law only weeks ago. He had had no thought about Esme, a woman who you loved like a sister, or John’s seven children, or his youngest brother who was slowly being forced to take John himself’s role, a role that distorted Finn so quickly it was like you had woke up one morning next to a completely different man. No, Luca Changretta hadn’t thought of any of this, and you would be happy to see him put to a stop.

The feeling never really goes “Attacking them in their own home? It is suicide, my boy.” The words he spoke were so filled with meaning that you half froze in your chair. You were sure that their was only one family that they could be talking about.

“I guess we will see tonight, if you are correct. But it was not so difficult to kill the last one, now was it?” A gloating voice, one that must have been Luca spoke, and it was all you could do to not turn around in your seat and punch him for his words. 

Your hand shook slightly, as you placed the glass down on the counter again, picking up your bag from where it had been, and slipping from your seat, a poor attempt to look casual, pushing through the doors into the cold early January air, your breath fogging in front of you, as your heart beat so violently and loudly that you heard it in your ears.

You had to warn them. At any moment Luca’s men could be at their door. You squeezed your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to picture it, not to think of Finn, because if you thought of Finn you would panic, and you couldn’t, not right now. You pulled off your high heels, feet hitting the frosted cobblestones, as you made to begin to run. You barely made it a few meters, before you heard the click behind you, the calm, cool voice.

And we won’t find love, at the bottom of a glassy hole. 

“Y/N Shelby! A pleasure to finally meet you.”

You turned, raising your hands slightly, to see Luca, standing alone, smoking a cigarette, his eyes calculating and humourous, locked with your own. He looked so casual, that to anyone else, it would look as if you two were just having a conversation, albeit one at gunpoint, the gun you could see now, aimed directly at your abdomen. If he shot it, it would guarantee a rather slow, horrifically painful, death for you.

“Y/N L/N, actually.” You snapped, your mind whirring, telling you to keep him talking, until you could figure out some fucking way to get out of this. You could feel the cool metal of your own gun, strapped to your thigh, but there was no way you could grab it without him realising.

And you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone

“Ah yes, you haven’t quite sealed the deal yet, have you?” He exhaled the smoke from his cigarette, as he walked closer to you, until he was only half a metre away, and you could smell the smoke. “When is the wedding?”

“We’re not going to have one of you keep killing off my guest list.” You spoke sardonically, trying not to seem as deathly afraid as you were. To Tommy, or Arthur, or even Finn, this wouldn’t be a big deal, you thought. They’d have plans for this sort of thing, but this was your first time being held at gun point. You wondered if it was the sort of thing you got a cake for at Shelby Limited, like normal companies did for an achievement.

He laughed, though his eyes didn’t express any emotion.

“You’re a funny girl, Miss L/N. It’s a shame, really, that I have to do this.” He gestured towards the gun. “But, needs must. You overheard my conversation, didn’t you?”

He stepped even closer, and you were almost sure you could hit him with the element of surprise, hit his gun from his hands. But your shaking hands betrayed that thought. What if it didn’t work? What then?

And you don’t know who to love until you’re lost

“You really do have to be fucking stupid if you don’t think that Tommy won’t have preempted any of the shit you plan to pull.” You spat, lowering your hands a tiny fraction. He didn’t notice.

“He seems rather distracted lately, doesn’t he? And anyone in Birmingham can tell you about the… ah, what should we call them? Cracks that are beginning to show in the Shelby family.”

“Perhaps he is distracted because your family murdered his fucking wife, Changretta.” Your hands were now barely raised, but he was distracted, each of your staring into the others eyes - fear and anger versus power and arrogance.

“As he killed my father.”

“This is nothing to do with me. Just let me go, okay?”

“You have already ruined my plans. Someone will have already found your boyfriend, I assume, and he and the rest of the Shelby’s will be on their way here.”

“So go. You know you can’t win against them. Not tonight.” Your heart was thrumming in your ears so loudly everything felt almost quiet in comparison.

And you don’t know how to feel until the moment’s passed

“But I can take something from them. Your time is up, Miss Shelby.”

“Y/N?” You heard a yell, an almost terrified one, but it was at least a street away. Finn would never get here in time.

Changretta turned his head towards the noise, and you took that moment, grabbing the gun in his hands, trying to wrestle it out of them, desperately. There was a bang and then there was silence, and the gun slipped from between your fingers, clattered to the floor. Your eyes regarded Changretta with shock, as your knees began to buckle, and you landed onto the cold hard cobbles, hands trying to find what was wrong.

“I’m sorry I had to do this.” For a second, you almost thought he sounded genuinely sad. “But your family took something from me. Now, I must take everything from them.”

“Y/N!” The voice was louder now, and you turned, to see a group of men at the top of the street - Finn amongst them. They came too late.

I wish you’d live like you’re made of glass

You turned back to Changretta , but he had already gone, disappeared into the shadows.

It only felt like seconds before Finn was in front of you, and you had raised a shaky hand to point the direction where Luca Changretta had gone, directing the rest of the Blinders with him. Soon, the way it had always been, it was just the two of you. Finn and Y/N.

His eyes scanned you for injuries, before they landed on your abdomen, the dim streetlights enough to see the scarlet liquid on your dress, spreading across the cobblestones. It was too much, for such a small person, you thought. You weren’t shocked, as you saw it, you knew as soon as the gun went off you were hit, and now you could feel the metal bullet, lodged somewhere inside you, feel the pain that extended to your fingers and toes.

“No.” He said quietly, his eyes locking with yours. “No.”

“Finn-“ Your hands reaches out to cup his face, the blood on them leaving marks on his cheeks, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel his warmth. You were so cold. So fucking cold.

“I need an ambulance.” He roared, looking towards the pub where you had been only ten minutes before, where several people were looking out at the scene. “Right fucking now!”

They weren’t ones to ignore a Shelby, and so they dissapearwd from the window. You knew it would do no good. You knew you-

And we’ve got work in the morning, But it’s nearly 5 a.m.

“I’m going to die Finn.” Your eyes were filled with tears, as were his, as he tried to press your wound, ripping off his jacket, holding it against your abdomen.

“No you’re not. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He repeated like a mantra, his voice shaky and cracking at every word.

Finn knew death. He had seen what felt like a hundred people die, had been the cause of several, and he knew from the look in your eyes, the paleness of your skin, that this was the end. Somewhere, deep down, he knew you were going to die, right there, on this rainy street, cold, and scared. He knew he could do nothing about it.

“It’s okay, Finny.” You said gently, hands still caressing his face. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

“Don’t die on me now, yeah? Please.” That word, filled with so much emotion, as he almost begged you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we argued … tonight. I just …” You trailed off, your mind not really working, not letting you find the words. God, it hurt so fucking much. In the distance, you thought you heard the ambulance.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

You nodded, leaning up against the wall behind you, feeling the cold start to set into your bones. The world felt almost fuzzy. You looked up, into the night sky. The pollution in Birmingham never allowed for stars in the sky, but you wished you could see them, right now.

You felt your eyes become heavier, like someone was weighing them down with pennies.

Is this really what we envisioned?

“Love you.” You mumbled, looking back to Finn. He was crying freely now, and you wanted to wipe away the tears, but it felt like you had forgotten how to move.

“Come on, the ambulance is almost here. Just a few more minutes.”

You shook your head, a tiny movement. You smiled at the boy, the boy who had made the last five years of your life bearable, who was your first, and last, love. You thought about the house you were planning on buying together, and the crib that you one day were going to have, and the honey suckle in the garden.

And you closed your eyes.

fandom culture is so, so good about giving artists the credit they’re due, but we gotta start doing that for writers too. you’ve got no idea how much people put into their stories and get maybe a handful of reblogs and a dozen-odd kudos. that’s not enough. writing is an endurance sport and y’all need to start giving fic writers a reason to endure it and improve their craft. encourage writers like you encourage artists. reblog fics, leave tags, leave comments, acknowledge that these stories do not just spring into being for your entertainment. 

it is hard to create fanfic when you feel like you’re writing for ghosts. i recognize that anxiety disorders and various complications make it goddamn difficult to comment on a fic, but there needs to be more way, way more verbal support of writers than there currently is. 

leaving kudos is great, liking posts is great (in fact, way more people should be doing the former; so many tags on this post mention only getting one kudos for every 10-20 hits), but ultimately if all you receive is silence you’re going to feel like no one cares about that story you’ve sunk countless weekends into creating. 

there’s a really common misconception that fanfic authors write only for themselves and/or for love of a series, and while both of those things are true, that’s far from the whole scope of things. fanfic authors write for their for their stories to be read and for the readers to get something out of it, even if that something is just ‘damn, that was hot.’ we’re not shouting into a void here. we’re hoping to hear something back, and right now all we’re getting is echoes.