Eye Of The Storm

Eye of the Storm

SERIES SUMMARY: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps)

Chapter summary: Everything unfolds and you were the eye of the storm.

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation

LONDON, 1919

Something clicked in Simon after Johnny’s funeral. He restricted you more than he did before. He was more forceful sometimes. You knew, because you braced yourself to face it everyday. 1…2…3…4…5… You had to count to ten every time he got mad. How many seconds will it take for him to lay his hand on you again? 

“From now on, you can’t come to the garden without asking for my permission.” When he saw your mouth open to protest, he added, “Don’t push it. You’re lucky I’m still allowing you to go.”

“O-of course, Simon,” you tearfully obliged. “I— “

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Good. Now, come here, darling. You know I can’t stand when you’re mad at me,” he coos and you oblige, finding yourself perched on his lap. You hated this; hated how he was treating you. Hated how his arms immediately wrapped around you. “I know that you’re mad at me,” he starts. “Especially with everything that’s been going on but I’m only worried that Tommy Shelby’s gonna take you.” 

“He’s not…you don’t have to worry about him, Simon,” you whispered. “I didn’t know that he was alive,”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But do you know where that puts me? You’ve been his friend since before the war and I’m not anything like him. It’s not you I don’t trust…it’s him. He’s a Birmingham rat with no respect. I want you safe. I want you here. If you behave yourself, then I’d slowly give you everything back. Hm?” he asked. 

You nodded, the small smile on your face could never convey how cold you felt.

Simon knows that what he’s doing is wrong but what else can be done? Tommy Shelby was back and there was no way he’s giving you up to some Birmingham gangster. It was just impossible to do so. It would hurt him and his ego. He’s never been declined of something before as an only child of two rich parents. If he’d be declined of your love and affection, he will burn the world and everything in it. You were the only thing he truly wanted and if it came to you, he’d do everything to never let you out of his grasp.

When he first seeked you out, you were eighteen. He was already enamoured, watching you from afar. You laughed with the girls and stayed with Big Johnny most nights. You were innocent, a fragile little thing that he wanted—needed. You listened to him and even treated him as a friend. It was different from how the girls treated him there. The girls would ask for gifts, and he bought them but you…you dressed up immediately after every visit. You’d smile at him before leaving, going to Johnny for your nightly lessons. He sometimes went to visit you just to talk. You were the most intelligent girl there and he always looked forward to seeing you again. If you slip away from his grasp, he wouldn’t know what to do. It’s why he bought you that house; why he gave you jewellery even before you were married. He wanted you to be reminded of him everywhere you went. It was dangerous dealing with your past—he knew that; but danger was something he’d walk on if it came to having you.  

“Darling, I was thinking…it’s been a while since we last went on a holiday. Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked. Reports of Tommy Shelby in London reached him. There was no way he’d let you meet again.

“Hm,” you hummed. “Can we go to New York?” you asked. “I’ve been wanting to go to Manhattan this time of year.”

“Yeah?” he asked. The farther you were from Tommy, the better. “Then, I’ll have things arranged and I’ll let you know, okay?” he kisses your temple as he passes by.

“Of course,” you replied. Your face seems so unreadable these days, but it always was. Can Tommy Shelby decipher the emotions written on your face or does he have to guess too? He knows that you were still keeping things away from him…knows that you’re not being fully honest with how you feel and who Tommy Shelby was in your life. He was fine not knowing as long as you were his. 

Irrevocably and utterly his. 

BIRMINGHAM, 1910

“You know, Tommy,” you said. “When I was young, my mother told me that there were other lands outside England…outside Birmingham that isn’t London,” you said. Your savings could take you to London, but you could never seem to find the time. Simon has been visiting you more and the owner of the brothel ordered you to always be available for him because of how much he spends on you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I want to go to London at least once. Before I die, I want to go to London,” 

“I’ll take you to London,” he says, voice gruff from the cigarettes. “I’ll take you to London and I’ll take you to the whole world,” 

“You will?” you asked. You were always told by your customers that they’ll take you here and there…but with Tommy, you knew that what he was saying was true. He never liked to break his promises. “If you’ll take me there, I better save up money because there’s no way I’m letting you spend a fortune on me.”

“I’ll take you to New York, Paris, and all the major cities. We’ll see them for the first time together,” he promises.

“Together?”

“We’ll always be together, won’t we?”

“Of course, we will. Together,”

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

Grace has long been gone since Polly revealed the truth to her. Was it mad that Tommy didn’t feel any morsel of anything? He didn’t care if she betrayed him; didn’t care if she loved him…if anything, she was better off gone. It just…unsettled him. Was that the right word? He never liked Grace, but she was a good enough replacement for you in the meantime. She was good enough, but she wasn’t you, no matter how much Tommy forced himself to convince everyone that she was good enough. 

He didn’t even think of lighting a cigarette for her departure. These guns, Billy Kimber…his ambitions of wealth, power, and control were too consuming for him to think of anything else. Too consuming that he knew that all ambition all boiled down to you, that mansion, horses, and a garden. He looks at the toy horses you’ve given him as children. It’s been showing signs of wear; time has the power to tear the edges of something precious so easily. Tommy liked thumbing the wooden toy to keep him afloat sometimes. It reminded him of peace, of home, of you. 

“Tommy,” Polly called. Her conscience has been nagging her, steaming out of pores ever since Tommy showed her how much you meant to him. It was never easy remembering Tommy on the floor, so weak; so defeated. It was never easy to remember that she was the reason why Tommy was miserable. She took you away from him. She decided then, that she’d do everything in her power to help her grieving nephew. If your presence could show her any semblance of Tommy before the war, she’d take it. Maybe she should feel bad for burdening you with that weight on your shoulders, but she knew that you did it so naturally…so genuinely. She relieves herself of thinking that you and Tommy needed each other; so much so that the world she knows now will simply reintegrate. You were the glue that binds Tommy; the melted gold that holds the pieces back together. Without you, Tommy was broken—alone. She’d never want that for him. She’ll never want to see him like that again. 

NEW YORK, 1920

When you told Simon that you wanted to go to New York, you didn’t know that you’ll be staying there indefinitely. You just said that to appease him, really. He made sure that all of your belongings were kept and taken to America. What didn’t fit, you’d buy. He was more lenient here. He’d let you go, and he was back to the Simon you’ve always known. 

“You’ve been married for years,” his attorney’s wife recalls. “Where are the little Simons running around?”

“Oh-“ you looked at Simon to help you out, but he was too engrossed in his conversation with the lawyer to notice. “We’re still enjoying our marriage. Just the two of us,” you lied. “We like to travel and we’ll feel bad if we just…leave the child back home,”

“But you’re in New York,” she says, like it mattered. “Surely, you’ve been trying?”

“No, not really. Simon wants our child to be born in England.” you said.

“You’re not getting any younger, dear,” she says. “When I was around your age, I already had two children. I say, it’s better to start a family early,”

That night, when you were removing your jewellery, Simon laid his hand on your shoulder. He’s gentle in New York. Your shoulder used to feel heavy in London. He started kissing your neck and you allowed him.

“An heir wouldn’t be so bad,” he rasps, nibbling on your ear. “Maybe soon…I want to have you all to myself first. Don’t want you to love me any less because of a child,”

“I wouldn’t love you any less, Simon.” you smiled at him. You didn’t want to bear his heir but if he was convinced that you’ll love him less because of a child, you’ll string him along. 

“I know but then, you’d dote on him and be all…” he drones on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“It’s alright, I don’t need anyone else. It can just be the two of us forever.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

“Tommy!” you called, walking through the muddy soil of the stables that he worked in. He took care of horses sometimes, to earn some extra money. It paid well and he was surrounded with the calmness of the horses that he took care of. He vowed to have his own stables filled with his own horses in the future. Maybe it was pathetic but Tommy was envious seeing things that he wanted being taken advantage of. He knew how to take care of horses but he never owned them. His dreams were so close yet so far. He was brushing the coat of one of the horses when you came barrelling towards him.

“Tommy!” you called again. “I’m free now. Let’s go!”

“Wait, wait,” he laughs, making sure that the horse—he secretly named him Hayday because the horse had a coat in the color of hay. He only told you that though. “Alright, Hayday. Let’s get you back to your stable,” he tells the horse, petting its snout. You smiled at his softness, following them quietly. You let Tommy do his job maintaining Hayday for a while, smiling widely when you saw him coming towards you. He was rubbing his face with water to get rid of today. 

“I smell.” he frowned, looking through his ragged satchel for a towel or an extra shirt. “Let me just…” he says, taking the shirt from the bag and then giving the bag to you. He turns around to remove his dirty shirt, tucking it between his legs and then changing into the cleaner shirt. You watched the way his back muscles flexed—working as a mechanic and carrying whatever he does was paying off. The clean shirt clung onto his figure nicely…you looked away before he could catch you staring though. “Thanks for keeping my bag,” he says, taking his bag from you. He hangs it on his shoulder and then links his arm with yours. You couldn't see the smirk that played in his lips.  “Where are we going again?”

“Remember, I told you to come with me to the market to buy something?” you asked him. He nods, letting you lead the way to the market. “Well, I’m free now. Let’s go.”

Tommy tells you all about his day on the way to the market, not knowing anything of what you had planned. It was his birthday last month, but you weren’t able to save up enough money for his gift because of a repair in your home. You drag him all the way to where the more expensive shops were, Tommy’s brows furrowing. 

“Here,” you said, stopping at a jeweller. You take him inside and he lets you. 

“What are we doing here— “

“Look!” you said, pointing at the gold signet ring on display. You leave Tommy to go get the clerk. You’ve been paying for the ring for a year now; little by little until you were able to fully pay for it. It was a gift for Tommy’s 21st birthday. You were talking to the clerk for a pick up when Tommy walks to you. The clerk gives you the red velvet box and you turn to Tommy, a wide smile on your face. 

“Who is this for?” he asked, frowning. Was this for that Rich Bastard? “You know I can’t afford that,”

“But I can. It’s for you,” you told him softly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry it was a month late,” You open the box for him. “Go on, wear it.”

“Y/N…love,”

“You have to accept it. I saved up for that, you know?” He takes the ring from the box and slides it on his ring finger. 

“Thank you…” he rasps, his throat closing up. “For this.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. I’d give you the world if I can but for now, a ring would suffice, don’t you think?”

-

You both settled at an empty grassland by the docks afterwards. Tommy couldn’t stop looking at his ring. 

“I still can’t believe you got me a ring,” he says, looking at you. “It must have cost you a fortune, eh?”

“It’s okay, Tommy. I want to give you something more for being a great friend to me.” you tell him. He nods at your words. Friends. Is that all he’ll ever be? 

“I got you this,” he says, showing you the simple, lone daisy that he picked on the way here. “I…” he says, tucking it behind your ear. I wish I could give you more. You stopped breathing, the proximity was too much to bear. You could see the blueness of his eyes, the freckles that kissed his nose and his cheeks. You could see every eyelash. It seemed like he didn’t mind it either. He was looking at you intently, trying to memorize every detail of your face. A face that could start a war, he was almost positive of it. You both unintentionally lean into each other, Tommy’s eyes flicking down to your lips, breath hitching. 

“Tommy!” you jump away from each other, looking away. Fuck. He sighs in annoyance, looking at one of the guys he knew from work. 

Maybe next time.

CAMDEN TOWN, 1921

“Put him down, Ollie!” he shouts. “Put him down, mate. He is only little.”

“You on your own?” He asked Tommy.

Tommy glances around. 

“Seems so,”

Alfie Solomons always liked to play the best games. He had wide shoulders that matched how dominant and domineering he seemed. He was unpredictable, abandoning all sorts of things just to make sure that in the end, he gets the best deal. Tommy wondered what kind of deal he could put up with the Jewish gangster to double cross Simon Coventry, his biggest payer.

“Well, you’re a brave lad, ain't you?” he asked. “Want to take a look around my bakery? We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah. Did you know we bake over 10,000 loaves a week? Can you believe it?” 

Tommy listens to him drone on about bread. He asked for brown bread and was served one. 

“Come look,” Alfie says, leading Tommy to his office. 

-

“Well, I’ve heard very bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. You’re gipsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?”

“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.” Tommy coughs. 

“Well, rum is for fun and fucking. So, whiskey, now that is for business,” he says, putting his bottle of whiskey for Tommy Shelby.

“Let’s talk first, eh?” 

“Suit yourself,” Alfie shrugs. 

“Heard you were dealing with billionaires,” Tommy brought up, trying to gauge the situation. He was sitting right in front of Alfie’s desk, noticing the latter reach for the drawer in his right. 

“You heard correct. What about it?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“Simon Coventry.” Tommy said. “He pays well?”

“Very well, mate.” Alfie replied, sipping on his whiskey. “Seeked for our protection services, invested…paid to kill for him. Has a wife, you know? Have you heard about her?”

“No,” Tommy shrugged, his voice monotonous, eyes bored. Alfie licks his lips. 

“Never met her…lovely wife, they say, yeah. A very lovely wife…but this lovely wife of his needs to be guarded. Don’t believe in all that…I don’t do that to women, but this lovely wife of his is…huh, well, told me to kill anyone who comes near her, yeah? And guess what, mate? You’ve a big fucking bounty written on your fucking forehead,” Alfie revealed. “Now,” he pauses, leaning on the table. “What is this business you’re looking for?”

“We join forces,”

“Fuck off. No! Categorical. Fucking ridiculous,” he leans back, scoffing. Tommy leans forward, clasping his hand over the table. 

“Mr. Solomons. Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest; you make from the tracks.”

Alfie fumbles with the handle but Tommy speaks.

“I know you keep a gun in the drawer beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal or death. I know what I’m saying makes you angry but I’m offering you a deal. People don’t trust your protection anymore. What makes you think that Simon Coventry will continue to trust you?” he asked. 

“Well, you shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him. That’s you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So, it’ll be appropriate to do what I’m thinking in my head to you right now.”

“I can offer you a hundred good men all with weapons and a new relationship with the police.” 

“Intelligence,” Alfie says. “Intelligence is a very valuable thing, ain’t it, my friend? And usually…it comes far too fucking late,” he reaches for the drawer on his left, pointing the gun at Tommy. He cocks the gun and Tommy sits there, unblinking. “Let’s say I shot you already, right? In the fucking face. And then the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there. Which is a shame.”

Tommy just sits there, his face devoid of any emotion. If he gets killed now, he doesn't care. He had no fear of death anymore.

“It’s fucking simple, mate,”

Blood trails down from Tommy’s nose and Alfie talks about some fucking cabinet behind him. He throws Tommy his handkerchief, but he doesn’t take it. Fucking cabinets and fucking asking him if Tommy wanted to go to Timbuktu. 

“I’m sorry, go on,” Alfie concedes after telling Tommy that he always thought he’d have a big gold ring on his finger. It was only a small signet ring that Tommy was unconsciously playing with under the table. “Tell us your plan.” 

NEW YORK, 1921

“I just got off the phone with the secretary. We’re invited to some Charity Gala in London that we have to go to,” Simon says. Simon says…seems like all you do is follow what Simon says. “You can stay here if you don’t want to go.”

“When is this?”

“In a week mostly,” he shrugged. “It would be great to have you there. It’s not grand or anything; it’s just a few of my partners having an event for some charity or foundation.”

“Oh,” you nodded. You wanted to be away from Simon, but you also wanted to go back to London. How were the Shelbys? How was Beth? “Yeah…yeah, I’ll go,”

“Perfect,” he says. “Your dress? You need a new one. I’ll arrange a trip for you with my assistant to help you look for what to wear. You have to be the most beautiful woman there. For reference, I prefer blue on you.”

“Okay, Simon. I’ll make sure to get a blue dress for you.” He smiles at you before turning the page on his newspaper. You were glad that things were back to how they were before Tommy arrived in Birmingham. You didn’t blame him—Tommy—Simon’s actions were your own fault. Who in the right mind would let their wife love another man? It’s not like Simon knew of your love but the fact that you hid who Tommy was from him still remains. Letting go of Tommy that night was…painful.

You couldn’t erase how crest-fallen he looked; that you were the cause for his anguish. He didn’t follow you; you told him not to. You didn’t want him to see you sit outside the Garrison with your head buried in your hands. You didn’t want him to see you howl in pain because you’ll never see him again. You didn’t want him to see how it hurt you to say goodbye to him.

You didn’t want him to see you but someone else did. 

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

You looked up from your cowering position, eyelashes clumped. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I just…I just left your brother,” you whispered, trying to even out the sob that threatens to get out of your body. Arthur frowns, crouching down in front of you.  He tries to remove your shaky hands only to be met with your bruising jaw. 

“Did Tommy— “

“No,” you shook your head. “He didn’t hit me.”

He nods. Arthur didn’t know who Tommy was these days. He’s closed off, aloof, cold, detached…he sometimes wonders if a time comes and he’ll just snap. Arthur’s coping mechanism was violence. He knows that he’s good…his hands or only bloody but Tommy…Tommy wasn’t good anymore. He felt conflicted; everyone seems to put all the burden on you to make Tommy come back…to make him good again. He heard Polly talk about it; how Tommy needed you…but if Tommy was the reason why you’re miserable, is he still worth coming back to?

“I told Tommy to never see me again,” you managed through your cries. “I feel…I feel so lost, Arthur. I didn’t want to do that—to say that to him when-when he’s here now but I have no other choice…he’ll get-he’ll—“

“What about you?” he asked, tracing big circles on your back.

“What do you mean?” you asked, hiccuping. 

“I mean…you talk about Tommy and-and making sure that we’re all doing great but what about you, eh?” There was a small frown on his face, it was so different from the ‘Mad Dog’ that people know him as. 

“I don’t need that,” you chuckled. “I’m married to-to—“

“Simon Coventry, I know. But who do you have other than him? I know you love Tommy—don’t even fucking deny it. It’s why you’re doing all these things, I know but Tommy has us; he has Birmingham, and you don’t,” he adds, tearing your heart into pieces. The realisation of isolation dawns on you and it is wicked; consuming your heart with grief because you had no one. Not Tommy. Not anymore. “You make sure that all of us are being taken care of…but no one’s taking care of you. This whole thing-this thing with Tommy, is it worth it if you can’t even come home to Simon because you’re fucking crying in front of The Garrison?”

“I don’t know what to do,” you shrugged. “I…I just can’t seem to stay away from you lot,”

“Oh, love,” he sighs. He’ll never tell anyone that he saw you crying in front of the Garrison. “Why did you marry him?”

“Because…I wasn’t sure if Tommy’s coming back,” you whispered softly. You wiped away the tears from your face, trying to regain composure. “I sent…sent letters but he never wrote back. When Simon proposed the idea of marriage and Tommy wasn’t-wasn’t writing to me, I just took the chance. It was a chance to get out of that fucking hellhole. Tommy hates me for it,” you whimpered. “I know he hates me for it because I always told him that I’ll wait but-but he didn’t write back. I didn’t wait for him.”

Arthur frowns, confused. 

“He wrote to you but you never wrote to him,” he said.

“What?” 

“He did, love. Wrote to you multiple times and-and he’d always be the first one to show up when there were letters from home. Always-always looking for your letter,” he reminisces. Deep in your heart, you knew that he was telling you the truth because there was some sort of empty longing that crossed his eyes. “He waited for your letters every day for four years.”

“Arthur…”

“I’m telling you the truth,” he says, looking at you more intently. “None of us knew you got married,” he added. 

“Arthur—“ You were heaving, this changes things. Your resentment towards Tommy was all in vain if he sent you letters but where were those letters? Where could they be? Seeing you in distress, Arthur flings his arm around your shoulder. “I hated him for it…I hated him for four years…” you weeped. “Arthur, how could I haveever hated him?” You felt like cold water was splashed on your face. Of course, Tommy would have never done that to you. But who did?

“It’s not your fault, love. It’s not your fault.”

-

LONDON, 1921

It’s been long since you last stepped foot in London. A year wasn’t a long time but a year teetering on the edge waiting for the next blow was a year too long. It’s not that you were expecting anything, but now that you’re in London…so close to Tommy, you know that everything will be different again. He’ll be forceful under the pretext of loving you, some bullshitt about it being for the better…you knew it was wrong. You knew that it wasn’t right. You hated your predicament, but you hated yourself more for never seeming to have the ability to hate him. 

You never questioned his love for you; you were sure about that but sometimes…you found yourself questioning if he loved you too much. You’ve never experienced love like that before. Too much love. Growing up, you always had just enough. What you couldn’t find from your mum, you found in Johnny. What you couldn’t find in your customers, you found in the Shelbys. What you couldn’t find from yourself, you found in Tommy. What you couldn’t find in Tommy, you tried to look for in Simon. 

Everything was just right. To have too much was too much. 

“You’ve been quiet since we got here, darling,” Simon says, his hand on your knee as you rode the Bentley back home. 

“Sorry,” you smiled up at him. “I just miss London. It’s different to be back home,”

“I know,” he says. “But we’re here now. Where do you prefer?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, playing with his fingers. You thumbed the rings on his fingers, your wedding band the most important one. 

“I’m asking…where do you want to build our family?” he asked. “I know I said that I didn’t want to have children yet but we aren’t getting any younger. We’d make the most beautiful children. They’ll get your beauty and intelligence. They’ll inherit whatever they want to inherit from me,”

Your fingers stilled. 

“Hmm,” you pretended to think, trying to playt the cards right. “I’d want our children to grow up in London.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his head falling on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I want them to grow up here but also experience different things from travelling. Maybe we could find a summer house in Italy?” you asked. He kisses your neck and you sit there cold, unmoving. 

“Yes, let’s buy a house in Italy…” he murmurs, drunk on your scent. “How many houses do you want, hm? Let’s buy whatever my wife wants…whatever she needs, hm?” 

“You spoil me too much, Simon,” you force out a giggle. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Only for the best. You’re going to be the mother of my children,” 

-

You arrived home and you heaved a sigh. You went inside your bedroom, ready to unpack some of the items you bought from New York when your eyes landed on the frame of pressed flowers that Tommy gave you on your birthday. Simon has been telling you to get rid of it—it was tacky, he said but you told him that the flowers were from a day of picnicking with your mother when you were a child. You felt your lips twitch at the memory of Tommy giving it to you sheepishly. If only you could have him back now. If only he’s there with you. 

You breathed deeply, trying to purge yourself of the sadness that lingered. It’s been two years since you’ve last seen him. He’s staying true to his word, you knew. He’s protecting you and you’re protecting him. You hated the situation you were in. Why did you need protection in the first place? You were the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the whole world. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter. You could have everything but why do you feel so alone? Why do you feel like there’s still something missing? Why do you feel like, no matter what you did—no matter how you tried, Tommy’s still the one you love? You reached for the pendant but you remembered that it wasn’t there.

Was it selfish to wish for him to never marry someone else? To never love anyone? Was it selfish to wish for him to finally love you the way you do all these years? 

Or was he only protecting you because he’s bound by his words and not the feeling of unbridled love that he has for you? 

Polly told you that you could have everything…you felt like you had nothing. 

You had more when you were working as a prostitute. 

Now, you just have Simon. 

-

Simon has been feeling your detachment ever since you arrived in New York. He knew that it was his fault; laying his hand on you like that but could anyone really blame him? You were his love; the object of all of his desires. You needed protecting, you needed safety and you needed him to give you the world. 

He was in his office, sorting through the files that he left for a year. He picks up the telephone and dials a number. He wanted you all for himself. He was hungry for you; hunger for your affection, your flesh, your gaze. He’ll do everything to preserve the attention that you were giving him but now that he feels you slipping away, he’s becoming more desperate. It was all Tommy Shelby’s fault and he needed to be dealt with. 

“I sent you the money for the murder of Johnny Wilson,” he speaks into the telephone. “I need you to do gsomething for me again.”

“Hm?” 

Simon speaks into the phone authoritatively. Details of his plan were spoken. He was meticulous and specific with what he wanted.

“Even…even the children?”

“Even the children,” he confirms. He senses the hesitation of the speaker from the other side. “If you do it in less than a year, I’ll add another twenty thousand to the total. I’ll make sure you never have to work a day in your fucking life. Call me when it’s done,” he spits, ending the call and looking at a photo of you on the table; not knowing that on the other side, an intruder was hearing everything that just transpired. 

Who was Simon Coventry? 

-

Cameras flashed as you enter the venue for the charity ball. You were dressed in a blue gown like promised. Simon’s hand was on your waist, smiling tightly at the cameras. He always hated the attention of the media and in your own way, you wanted to calm him down. You touch the hand that was on your waist to remind him that you were there. You smile at him softly and he smiles back. If only he was as soft as he presents himself to be in the media. 

He leads you into the venue without so much a glance offered to the media and you follow. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” you smiled up at him. 

“You can go ahead and sit,” he says. “I’ll just be greeting some of my partners.” You nod and you allow him to kiss you on the cheek before you part ways. You didn’t know why—but you felt like something was wrong. Something was going to happen tonight. 

A waiter comes to your table and offers you a drink. He was young—probably way younger than you.

“Champagne, please,” you told him. “You’re too young to be working,”

“I-I’m nineteen, ma’am,” he tells you while pouring you a glass.

“Ah, maybe not that young then,” you replied. “Is this your first day?”

“Yes, ma’am. My first day on the job,” he says. “I’m quite nervous to be surrounded by the rich but I need the money…”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” you replied, offering him a friendly smile. “Here,” you said, opening your clutch and handing him a few pounds. “Think of it as a tip for serving me champagne and for talking to me.”

“This is too much, ma’am,” he refuses but you shove the notes in his hand. You remembered how tips from the brothel helped you so much; it allowed you to buy necessities. It allowed you to get Tommy the signet ring that you got him for his 21st birthday. You were busy talking to the young man that you didn’t notice your husband walking towards you with a scowl on his face. 

“Hey, you,” he sarcastically greets the server, snapping his fingers rudely.. “Refill my glass,”

“Simon— “

“Thank you,” he says, disregarding you completely. The boy turns to leave but Simon stops him. “No, stay. I need you to refill my fucking drink every time.”

“Simon—“

“You think my wife is beautiful?” he asked. The boy looks at you and you attempt to shake your head; telling him to walk away before anything else happens. “I’d be offended if you told me that she wasn’t.”

“Simon— “

He takes a swig of his drink before extending the same empty glass.

“What’s your name?” Simon asked, watching the boy shakily refill the champagne flute. “Don’t spill anything on my wife,” he threatens darkly. The boy swallows. 

“William, sir,”

“William…do you think my wife is pretty?” he asked again. You look around the room to see that everyone was trying to discreetly watch the commotion. You tried standing up but Simon pushed you back down.

“Y-yes, sir,”

Simon nods, pleased with William’s answer.

“You may go, William,” you calmly told him.

“You may not,” Simon says. William’s feet were stuck planted on the ground. He was shaking and you tried to plead with Simon, but he wasn’t looking at you. “Actually, let’s take this outside, hm? Everyone seems to be enjoying this fucking commotion. Come with us, Y/N,”

“Simon, please,”

“Come on, darling,” he says, pulling you away forcefully from the table. You stumble after him, heart racing wildly inside your chest. Fuck. Your shoulders were shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The three of you arrive in the wine cellar, an empty room where you were sure no one heard you. 

“Stand there,” Simon says. “Y/N, stay beside me.”

William stands in front of Simon, his steps hesitant.

“I’ll give you a deal, William. Do you want a thousand pounds? You’ll never find that anywhere else,” he taunts. You shake your head discreetly, but William wasn't looking at you. He was pale, his breathing shallow. “I’ll give it to you right now. Cash,”

“Y-yes, sir,” he replies. 

“Say please,”

“Simon—“

“Shut up! Shut up!”

“Please, sir,”

“Kneel and beg.”

“Simon, it’s not right! Please, let’s just go home,” 

William kneels in front of Simon, and you could see the sinister smile that played on his lips. He fishes for something in his pocket—a gun. 

“S-sir,”

“You want a thousand pounds, yeah?” he asked, waving his gun in the air. 

“Simon—“

“I don’t want another word from you, Y/N. Or else, I swear, I will fucking shoot you.” he threatens. You were trying your best to stop being so hysterical but you couldn’t. You were sobbing, hands shaking when Simon pointed the gun at the poor boy. You tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to come out; tried to wonder what a monster Simon becamez

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you choked, crouching down on the floor to comfort yourself. “I’m sorry, William…”

BANG! BANG!

The sounds of a gun going off rings inside the cellar and you flinch. Simon has just shot William twice; one on his stomach, one on his shoulder. It was sloppy; you knew he was aiming for his heart. William lays on the floor with a pool of his own blood, crying in pain. Simon just walks towards him, throwing him a thousand pounds and then spitting on William’s face. 

“Don’t ever look at my fucking wife again. Fix yourself Y/N. We’re going back to the party,”

“Simon, he’s just a kid! Get him to a fucking hospital!”

“I said, fix yourself!” he roared, and you closed your mouth. You stepped away from him, afraid of what he might do.

“Now you know what happens if you ever try to leave me. It’s time for me to show you what I will do to protect you, okay darling?” he asked, crouching down to your level and pulling you in an embrace. He kisses your temples to comfort you for the damage that he has done. “Don’t ever leave me,”

The two of you left William’s body and went back to the party. You were shaken, aloof the whole night. You couldn’t believe what just transpired. Simon’s cruelty—his disregard for himan life for a thousand pounds… You were trying to catch the attention of other servers but were ignored. You just wanted someone to check on William, that poor boy. You and your husband continued to sit beside each other acting like the happy couple, never noticing the pair of blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight into you. 

-

Simon killed Johnny. 

Your hands shook as you read the handwriting on the crumpled piece of paper over and over again. You found it in the clutch that you left in your seat when Simon shot William in the cellar. Turning the paper over, you sobbed; unable to control the emotions that begged for your attention—anger, fear, disgust, sadness…everything seemed to crash into you. You run towards the bathroom to vomit on the toilet. Your whole body tembled, and you cradled yourself on the bathroom floor. You didn’t care if the dress was wet and crumpled…how…why…what did you do in your past life to be punished like this? 

-

You haven’t been the same since you received that note. Simon found you in bed; unmoving and unresponsive. The shock must have been too much to bear but he had to show you—he had to put on a display of what he would do to keep you safe and away from the Shelbys. He didn’t regret anything except for the way your eyes glistened when he threatened to shoot you. That was a sin he’d pay for but for now, maybe silence is enough to soothe you. 

He lays in bed, an inch too far away from you and he couldn’t bear it. He could hear the way your sobs shook the bed; how hard you tried to keep yourself from being too loud. 

“Darling…” he coos but you only cried harder. 

“Not tonight, Simon. Please,” you whispered, desperation kicking in. “I’m…I’m— “

He nods to himself, a wounded puppy. 

“I have…I have to leave you tomorrow to meet with Alfie Solomons,” he tells you. “Use that time to go out or, or get out of this place. I wouldn’t mind if you went alone as long as you have at least one of Alfie’s men to guard you,” 

You wanted to laugh. He was holding your liberty as hostage; taunting you with it whenever he did something wrong but in reality, no matter how much freedom he grants you, his hand will always be on your neck to keep you from leaving. 

“I’m sorry for threatening you,”

“Not tonight, Simon,”

He nods but it actually angers him for you to refuse him so easily. He has given you anything and everything. Hell, he bought you that summer house in Italy already, but you still couldn’t give him the satisfaction of holding you for the night. Did Tommy Shelby hold you while you slept? Would you have let him?

-

You felt Simon kiss your head before he left. You couldn’t sleep last night, thinking of all the ways to tell Tommy or at least anyone about Simon’s plan. You weren’t sure if he was sincere when he told you that you can go out today but you were taking that chance. You knew that Arthur wanted you to protect yourself but maybe this could be the last time. Just this once and then, never again. 

You dressed up, the brown coat covering your figure and giving you shelter from the cruelty of the world that Simon built for the two of you. You ordered one of the servants to fetch you one of Solomons’ men that could drive. You needed to talk to Polly or anyone from Birmingham and the only way to do it was through the telephone. It was too dangerous at home; Simon had eyes and ears everywhere. 

“Mrs. Coventry,” the driver greets you, opening the door to let you in. You settle yourself inside, opening your clutch for a deal he couldn’t resist. 

“Other than driving me around, what else do you do?” you asked him. 

“I’m told to obey all of your orders as long as it complies with what Mr. Coventry asks us,” he replied. “Where are we going today, ma’am?” 

“Just…go to the city,” you replied. “Do you think…do you think you could do something for me? I’ll make sure you’re paid and that you won’t be blamed for anything that comes out of it,”

“Ma’am, I am under strict orders of Mr. Solomons to— “

“Five hundred pounds,” you interrupted, you needed him to understand the urgency of the situation. Your nail beds have bled through the night and were red and swollen. “I can give it to you in cash right now. Just tell me if you know where I could reach the Shelbys the fastest,” You sounded like Simon like now, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care anymore. 

“There…there are Blinders right outside a flat in London. Ada Shelby is rumoured to live there,” he says lowly. 

“Take me there. Make sure you’re discreet and make sure we’re not being followed. I’ll make sure that you’re safe,” you promised him. “Just…just go there as fast as you can,” 

It’s hard to be discreet when you’re driving one of the most expensive cars in the world, but he drove you to Ada Shelby’s house anyway. Five hundred pounds was more than what he could ever make working under Alfie Solomons. 

A storm was brewing, and you were at the centre of all of it. 

-

Ada lives in a building in the centre of London. On the way, your driver told you about how Tommy bought the whole building for her. You smiled softly; Tommy was finally realising his dreams, but he was realising them without you. 

You exited the car, covered from head to toe. You made sure no one recognized you; the lush, brown coat and your hat covered your face entirely. You told him to leave you alone and come back in three hours. He zoomed off, afraid to be seen by one of Simon’s men.

Your breathing was uneven and the steps that you took were shaky. You blamed it on the uneven ground. Knocking on the door, you prayed silently for Ada to hear you. The more time you spend outside, the higher the risk of being recognized. You waited with bated breath, but the door soon opened, revealing none other than the man who occupied every corner of your brain. You rushed inside before he could even speak and he let you, locking the door behind him as he followed you into the drawing room. He stands in front of you, removing the coat from your shoulders gently. You were shivering but not from the cold. How were you more beautiful than the last time he saw you?

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” you said over and over again, like you were making sure that he was there. Your resolve was dissolving, and you were near hysterical. He crouches down in front of you to take a good look for your face. He missed it; he missed your touch…he missed you. His fingers on your waist seem to snap you back to reality and you take a deep breath. “Simon killed Johnny. He’s going to—he’s going to kill all of you,”

-

A/N: Thank you very much for making this far! We’re getting closer to the end of this series but please don’t forget to reblog and comment if you liked it / loved it / hated this chapter, etc! I love discussing and replying to your comments and reblogs.

ALSO: A quick character study on Simon is that he is filty rich. The value of money is immaterial to him. In his eyes, money is a way for him to get anything and everything he wants. It’s what makes people kill and die for each other. If it benefits him, then he’d gladly throw money at whatever it is about.

TAGLIST:  @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius​ @trixie23​ @everythingelseisextra​ @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme

(I’ll be removing people from my taglist on the next chapter if conditions aren’t met! I’m sorry but that’s the rule….)

Betrayal - Masterlist

Tommy Shelby x Reader x Luca Changretta

What started as a one shot from a prompt has now grown arms and legs, so I’m making a master post to recognise it as a series in its own right.

Summary:

Tommy and Y/N have been together, in secret, for some time, after growing up together on the streets of Small Heath. Set after the end of s2 through into s4, Tommy was poised to have everything he ever wanted, until a colossal error of judgement comes back to haunt him and he finds himself on the wrong side of the woman he loves.

Warnings for whole story: 🔞 This is very angsty piece and littered with bad language. It contains some smut and some very dark themes, including domestic violence and sexual assault. For that reason, I respectfully ask minors not to interact. All chapters have their own warnings so please do check these before reading.

Credit: There are scenes and dialogue lifted from series 3 and series 4 of Peaky Blinders used throughout this story. I take no credit for Steven Knight’s writing or characters. Everything else is my own and I do not give permission for it to be replicated without consent.

A note about feedback

STORY

Part 1: It’s Always Been You

Part 2: You Could Be Happy

Part 3: New Places, Old Faces

Part 4: Vows

Part 5: Aftermath

Part 6: Black Hand

Part 7: Homecoming 🔞

Part 8: Women’s Business

Part 9: Deal With The Devil 🔞

Part 10: Photograph

Part 11: Leverage

Part 12: Gin

Part 13: Provisions

Part 14: Firelight

Part 15: Family Meeting

Part 16: Letters

Part 17: Black Star Day

Part 18: The Switch

Part 19: Revelations

Part 20: Vardo

Part 21: Negotiation

Part 22: The Fall

Part 23: Truths Within The Lies

Part 24: The Longest Night

Part 25: Submission

Part 26: Endgame

Part 27: Afterwards

Part 28: Epilogue 🔞

SHORTS

One shots, inspired by the story

From Paris With Love 🔞

A Sky Full Of Stars

The Princess of Camden Town

Tommy Shelby Masterlist

MAIN MASTERLIST

Borrowed Time

SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war)

Chapter synopsis: The end of the story.

AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍

LONDON, 1921

Tommy sits in his chair, unmoving. Dying was a becomes an issue to him if it affected you this way. Ever since the war, he thought that he was living for free. It didn’t matter if he died now since he was on the verge of dying every day in France but…was this a physical manifestation of what you felt every single day for the four years that he was gone?

“I only have less than three hours left,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing on the teacup on the table. “I’m not-I’m not supposed to be here, Tommy…he will kill you if he catches me here.” you whispered, afraid to let the whole world know about how terrible Simon truly was. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” his voice soothes you; the raspiness sending shivers down your spine. He was sitting beside you now, a hand on your bouncing knee. “I made sure you’re alright,”

“Tommy, I know that you hate me,” you sobbed, shaking your head.  “I’m sorry for what-what I did but I…we had these plans together of—of living in a future where it’s just us and—”

“It’s alright,” he says. Seeing you risk everything just to warn him was already enough proof that you were sorry. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said that night,”

“You’ve-you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I…I sent you letters every week,” you pleaded. “I know that you might think that I forgot about you, but I never forgot about you, Tom. I’m sorry for believing that you’d think I was replaceable…that I didn’t matter to you,” you whispered the last part, hands on your lap forming into fists. 

Would now be a wrong time to tell you that he loves you? 

“How do you…” he coughs, trying to veer away from the road where you were going. He couldn’t do this now, not when everything’s slowly set in motion. “How did you get the information?”

You fished for the paper in your clutch, showing it to him. 

“I received this during a charity dinner in London,” you said. “I tried everything to put Simon away from you…but I couldn’t. I failed and now…now he’s out to kill you,” 

“He’s not going to kill me,” he replied. “It was Alfie’s men who put that there,”

“But he will!” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “He knows Alfie Solomons…”

“So do I,” he calmly says. “Alfie Solomons and I have an agreement,”

“He killed Johnny,” you warned him, but he was looking at you blankly and you feel despondent. “Alfie Solomons…killed Johnny. Has he not?”

“It was Darby Sabini who killed Johnny. To retaliate, I infiltrated the Eden Club. Alfie Solomons’ men were in charge of security and protection but Darby Sabini’s in charge of whatever dirty work Simon wanted to get done. Their dealings started recently with Johnny’s death,” he says. “It’s not—I,” he sighs, not finding the right words to say.

“Tommy…”

“Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault, Y/N.” He means it, you could tell but a small part of you still couldn’t quite grasp the measures that Simon will undertake to keep you close. “Y/N, love, it’s alright,”

“No- I…I can still try to persuade Simon. I’ll give that-that heir he wants so bad just please don’t…” you heaved, choking on your own tears. The way Tommy said it…like he knew that he was dying soon made you feel cold. You've come so far, would you really let Simon kill Tommy that easily? Tommy's hand on your knee tightens momentarily but he lets it go.

“You will do nothing of that sort,” his throat constricts. “You won’t have to do things you don’t want to anymore. I’m—I’m here now. I want you to be happy and I’ll do everything to make sure that you are but if an heir with him is something that you—“

“I don’t want to carry his child,” you shook your head. “Tommy, can’t you see? I just want you to live and be—be happy. We both changed since you left. The war took so, so much from you, Tom. We’ve both said things we cannot take back but God, Tommy. I want us to be happy and I want you to rest,” 

“We can rest together…be happy together,” he proposes. “Our future isn’t that far away if—“

“How?” you asked, voice small and eyes full of tears. “How?”

“No more running away. I have a plan,” he tells you, but he didn’t want to divulge the details. His blue eyes stare directly into you. His face was blank, but his body was leaning towards you, gentle hand still on your knee. “Hey,” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. You started to pick on your nail beds again. He interlocks his fingers with yours and you smile slightly. Just like when you were kids. 

“Sorry,”

“Y/N,” he stops himself. Why did you have to apologize for everything?. “I…I wrote to you,”

“Tommy—“

“I did. I waited for your letter everyday. I-I would be the first one to be there when letters were being sent but I sent them to Watery Lane,” he says. “I can’t go on with this without you knowing that I waited for you. I don’t want you to think that I’ve abandoned you because I don’t. I could never.”

He didn’t know where his courage was coming from. Maybe it was because he could feel the end coming soon. He was so scared to die without letting you know about what he truly felt for you, no matter how selfish that sounded. He wouldn’t die until he tells you about how much he loved you, about how deep this love ran through him.

“I know…Arthur told me,” you nodded. You blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s me who didn’t wait for you and I-I regret it every day, you know? Not waiting…because I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be here if I did and—I’ve always believed in your promises, Tommy. I knew that you were going to keep them but I—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, he’d be asking Arthur about that sometime. “I’m not angry. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright,” You didn’t believe him though and neither did he. 

“Tommy?” you asked. “Do you know who tried to stop the letters?”

“I do,” he replied.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

 He hums.

“Can you hold me? Instead of telling me?”

Borrowed time, you were on borrowed time and all you wanted was Tommy’s arms around you. Love is a funny thing. The world was ending and all you could ever think of is how Tommy’s hands were made for destruction, but they were also made to hold yours. 

-

The house was dark when you came back. For a house filled with servants, the house was quiet  An eerie feeling washes over you and you walked on, looking for anyone. Instead, the fireplace was open, flames roaring while your husband sat. He was looking intently into the fire, smoking his pipe. 

“Where did you go?”

“Out and about,” you said, the lie rolling perfectly from your tongue. 

“I see,” he nods. “Did you know that Ada Shelby was abducted today?”

You stopped, ice creeping up your spine.

“Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club owned by Sabini and then, Sabini abducted Ada Shelby.” he says it like it was nothing. “I wonder why Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club. Do you happen to know why?”

“No, Simon,” you shakily replied. “Why…?”

“Because Darby Sabini killed Big Johnny. Do you know why?” he asked. “You don’t because you’re a fucking idiot, but I’ll lay it down for you. Nice and simple so you can understand. I ordered the death of Big Johnny to punish you for hiding who Tommy Shelby was. I ordered Ada’s abduction because you went to see Tommy Shelby today. I ordered for the death of all the Shelbys—even the children so you would never have to worry about them. I tried to be reasonable, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe you’d listen to me once all of those Birmingham rats are dead, hm? You’ll have to carry the weight of their deaths in your shoulder because you wouldn’t listen. It’s your fault they’re dying. It’s your fault that Johnny died. I liked him and you killed him,”

“I gave you everything. I love you with all of me and all that I have but you…you still love someone else. What do I have to do for you to love me like you love him?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at you, he was just unmoving…smoking his pipe like he was telling you about today’s weather. You were shaking, afraid for them and for your life. 

“Stop crying,” he orders you, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? He just revealed all of his plans—all the things that he wanted to do to them. “Go to our room and stop fucking crying!”

-

“Well, you look like shit,” Polly says, seeing Tommy on the hospital bed. “What did you do this time?”

“Sabini’s men took me and beat me up,”

“They wouldn’t beat you up without anything. They wouldn’t abduct Ada without reason. I heard that someonedecided to drop by. What did you talk about?”

“Nothing that I don’t already know,” he shrugs. “Can you pass me a cigarette?”

“You want me to help you but you’re not fucking telling me anything,” Polly says, tossing the pack to Tommy’s chest. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Poll—“

“Tom,” she asserts sternly. “You tell me now or I will get it out of her,”

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back. “Simon killed Johnny and ordered Sabini to kill all of us. They know that I was staying at Ada’s and saw her enter Ada’s house and got us to where we are now,”

“Fuck…but we’re talking about our lives here, Tom.” Polly stresses. “Do you think that you get to have a say on whether or not we’re dying just because of a promise you made when you were young and naive?”

“I think it’s better if you all leave me to deal with this whole…thing,” Tommy says. “You’re right. Your life is on the line and I’m not really accomplishing anything if you all fucking die because of me. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s…that fucking husband of hers! If you really want to know, Polly…since you did give her away, yeah? Simon’s out to get all of us, even Y/N.”

Polly feels her throat tighten. This…this is what she gave you away for. Her nephew on the brink of dying, Ada with multiple fucking bruises, the threat of death, and then, the receiver of all anger…you. 

“That girl is like my daughter,” Polly says. “I will help you, Tom but you have to promise me that—that you will be honest with me. Don’t keep us in the fucking dark. It’s not your own problem anymore. It’s ours,”

“Alright,”

“I know you have a plan. What is it?” Polly asked, inhaling. “Honesty, Tom,”

“I…I made a deal with Alfie Solomons. We are alliances. He works with Simon for Y/N’s security and I allowed a few of his bookies to be in the racetracks in exchange of ensuring…well, Y/N’s safety,” It was half the truth. The other details, Tommy had to omit to ensure the execution—

“Stop fucking hiding,” Poll warns. “Tommy, you have to tell me,”

“Fuck—“ he coughs. “Everything is set in motion, Poll…there’s nothing else,” Polly looks at Tommy, there was no way for him to let up anything. Tommy was just staring at her, uninterested. He held her gaze, but she knew that there was nothing else. Tommy made up his mind about something; she just wished that it would turn out alright. 

-

“I’d like to stroll around the garden today,” you told one of the servants. Life at home had been back to the way things were. Simon was back to the old Simon that you knew but somehow, you felt like your every move was watched. 

“I’m sorry, miss but Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go to the garden with him,” she replied. “We can call on Mr. Coventry to ask…”

“What-what do you mean?” you asked. “I thought I was allowed to go…”

“Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go out of the house with him and that, if he isn’t around, you’re only allowed to be inside the house,” she repeated. You swallowed the constriction in your throat, unable to form any sentence. “We were also instructed to be with you at every single moment, miss,” 

“What?” you asked, frowning. “I don’t need to be tended to every minute of the day,”

“But miss—“

“You may leave. I’ll go to the garden alone and you can just tell Simon that I insisted on it,” you told her, walking away but she grabs your arm. “I didn’t tell you that you can touch me,” you spit. You’ll feel bad about it later but for now, you need to go out. The house was suffocating, and you felt like you were being watched. 

“Miss—“

“Leave me alone,” you scowled. “I want to go to the garden,”

“Oh, darling but you can’t,” Simon says, mocking you. “I told the servants to follow my orders. With the stunts that you’ve been pulling lately, I think it’s just fine to have you close and protected, hm?” he asked, walking over to you.

“Simon, this isn’t right,” you begged. “I’ve been cooped in the house for too long. I need-I want to go out,”

“I wish you could, but I have to go attend a meeting with Alfie Solomons. Did you know that I had your old driver killed? It’s all because of you,” he chuckles. He dismisses the servants with a wave of his hand. “You have to understand that I…I’m doing it for our family. You can hate me,” he states, walking a step closer to you. “Or push me away…” he adds, a tendril of your hair swirling in his fingertips. “You can even try to kill me,” he chuckles, his breath on your ear. “But you’re still mine. You’re my wife. You’re my fucking wife!”

You shuddered, pushing him away. 

“You’re taking everything away from me, Simon,”

“I’m just taking back what I gave you,” 

“My…my freedom. You took away my freedom,” you cried. “You took Johnny away from me! You took the Shelby’s away from me,”

A slap echoes in the halls. 

“Don’t you dare fucking say that I took the Shelbys away from you. They were taking you away from me!” he roared, chest heaving. “What—you didn’t think I would feel magically alright when you visited Tommy Shelby the other day? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about that fucking locket that you lied to me about? We were having a wedding and you still had Tommy Shelby on you! You think I’d be happy about that? I love you and I…I gave you everything! But I still have to try to read your mind. Tommy doesn’t. You…you’d rather live in the sewers with that fucking criminal than be here with me,”

He caresses the stinging on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

-

You were locked inside your bedroom, your heart aching. He loves you…but he hurts you. He’s cruel and controlling and full of wrath but he’s dependent and loving and kind. You hated to admit it, but you understood his fears, his anger, and him. 

What if you stole one of the cars right now? You could drive down to Birmingham and stay there or…or you could leave, find a place to stay in Ireland and never be heard of again. Will Simon shoot down the car? Will he shoot you, too? Or will he forbid you to even set your foot in England ever again? 

Simon enters your room, disregarding you completely before sitting on the bed with you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand covering yours. “I didn’t mean to…to do that,”

Right. 

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry, please,” he says, coming closer to you but you only feel cold and repulsed. “Please, darling… I don’t want to do these things to you. Do you think it doesn’t hurt me when I have to take things away from you? I just can’t…not until I’m sure that I can trust you.”

You closed your eyes, tears falling on the hands that connected you to your husband. 

“I’m so tired, Simon,” you whispered. “You…you taunt me and-and you turn my freedom into your weapon. I understand that you’re angry but to do that…to do the things that your father did to your mother…when you told me before that you hated him for it…what does that make you?” you asked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…was that supposed to be your excuse every time he does something horrible?

“I—I…”

“I married you not because I know that you can give all these things to me. I married you because you told me you loved me. You told me that I was important to you…but is this what love is? Is love supposed to be painful? Is love supposed to bruise? Is this what love is supposed to be like?” you asked. You removed your hand from his, standing up and walking away. If this is what love bruises you like peaches, you wanted no part of it. 

Simon has given you the wings to fly but he likes to cut them whenever you fly too close to the sun. 

When you lay in bed that night, Simon’s arm draped on your figure, you only felt cold. You laid on the softest bed in the world, unmoving…unblinking. 

Maybe you'll be free another time.

-

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says, setting his utensils down on the dining table. “You have…you have every reason to be mad at me,” 

“Simon,” you sighed. You’ve been playing with your food for a while. “You…you can’t just say sorry every time you decide to…hurt me. I want to be able to love you without fearing for my life,”

“It’s just…Tommy Shelby.”

“I don’t have him anymore,” you told him. “Tommy and I…are nothing but childhood friends. His father used to frequent the brothel when my mother was still alive. He—and I grew up together and he was all I had until he left. Now, I only have you,” you said. “My relationship with the Shelbys is nothing but familial. They took care of me, they took me under their wing,” 

“But he loves you,” he replied. “He loves you, Y/N and he wants to take you away from me! Do you not appreciate my efforts to ensure that our marriage is preserved?”

“What preservation?” you asked, standing up. “What—what preservation? You killed Johnny and you expect me to be alright with it. You took away my friends, my freedom…and you—you expect me to be the same!” You chuckled. “Preservation? You’re the only one killing this marriage, Simon. I love you but no matter how much I show it…it will never be enough,” 

“Then, kill Tommy Shelby!” his voice booms. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see your love? Kill him! We have more than enough money to have one of Alfie’s men or Sabini’s men to kill him. Kill him!”

Your face pinches in anger, eyes turning into slits. 

“What? You can’t be serious,” you scoffed. Simon takes your arm harshly and you flinched. He grips it in his hand, forcing you to stay immobile.

“Kill him,” he spits. “Your love means nothing to me if you won’t,”

“And you think I’ll continue to love you when you’re forcing me to kill my friend?” you asked, shaking your head. “Let me go!”

“No!” his voice booms. He drags you to his office, your legs stumbling behind him. “You have to decide if you’ll kill for me. I’ll kill for you, don’t you know that?” he asked, throwing you on the couch in his study. “I’ll kill for you…”

You stand up to leave but he pushes you down. 

“I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will love me again. You’ve been obedient for Tommy’s sake…that’s the greatest love of all and I—I don’t have it,” he whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I don’t have it.”  He shakes his head, watching your husband turn into the cruel man that you learned to hate. He walks towards the door and exits. You run after him but he forces the door closed from the other side. 

“Make sure that Mrs. Coventry is taken care of,” he tells his security. “Only maids are allowed to be inside but don’t let anyone near the door until I leave. She will remain in this room until I arrive in the evening.”

You were rattling the door but to no avail. Your tears were freely flowing, trying to get the door open by slamming your body on it. You could hear the quiet murmur outside but they were all ignoring you.

“Let me out, Simon!” you sobbed. “Let me out! Let me out…please!” you cried, slamming your body harder but it couldn’t fucking open. Your fall on the floor, consoling yourself from the coldness and the darkness of Simon’s office. If your mother saw you today, would she be proud of you?

-

Time passes in Tommy’s eyes, his eyes blank. Alfie Solomons told him to wait but he couldn’t. Their men surrounded the mansion, pretending to be your security but they’ve been planning the seeds, telling Tommy that you weren’t allowed to be out of the house with your husband anymore. He heard some of the men joke that you were a ghost that sat on the window because they have never even seen you. 

“Tommy,” Alfie called, a young man trailing after him. “I’ve got someone useful for you. One of my men in Coventry’s fucking mansion. Go on, David. Tell Mr. Shelby here about the fucking horrors in that big, big mansion,”

David nods, his resolve dissolving upon seeing Tommy’s icy stare directed at him. 

“My name is David and I’m assigned to the security of the house. Mrs. Coventry is currently locked in Mr. Coventry’s house—“

“Ah, fuck, mate. Just say Y/N and Simon. These fucking names really…” Alfie interjected. He nods. 

“Um—Simon laid a hand on Y/N yesterday,” his eyes looking away from Tommy. “She’s not allowed to-to go out of Simon’s study…after Y/N refused to have Mr. Shelby killed”

“What about the driver that brought her to me?”

“He’s dead. Darby Sabini’s men killed him,” Alfie shrugged. He dismisses David with a wave of his hand.  “Be honest with me, Tommy. Who is she? Because it’s quite absurd, innit? Here is a man with a wife and then another man who vows to what? Take her back? If I was Simon Coventry…I would be mad too, is what I’m saying. Did you know the tenth commandment, mate? Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife…did you know that?”

“No one,” was Tommy’s laconic reply, standing up to walk away. Alfie chuckles.

“No one!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “This no one cost me a man. A poor lad who decided to follow your Y/N’s orders for what? A few pounds and a fucking—a fucking night with you. Is that it, Tom? No one. Fucking no one and I’m letting my men run around after your fucking whims!”

“A fucking night? My fucking whims?” Tommy spits. 

“What? Is it not true?” he asked, “You’re fucking…obsessed, mate. That’s what you are! She is married. The more you act the more she gets…fucking hurt. You think that’s alright?”

“He’s using her!” Tommy shouts over. “He’s hurting her no matter what I do or not do. Did you fucking know that? You’re not doing anything!” he asked, eyes teary. 

“Then, don’t fucking do anything! It wouldn’t matter anyway; you said it yourself. As damned as I am, Tommy, don’t fucking do anything,” 

Tommy shoves Alfie, shaking his head. No fucking difference? 

“What the fuck? Tommy!” Alfie shouts. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking angry, eh?”

“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he says, pointing a gun to Alfie. 

“Oh, you’re going to kill me?” he taunts. “You’re going to fucking kill me when your anger is un-fucking-justified! So, what, Simon has your woman, eh? He has her? You’re angry at me but fucking hell, Tommy! How many men do I have to sacrifice for this little fucking protection project you got going on? How many fathers will you fucking kill? You think you’re better than Simon Coventry? You’re going straight to fucking hell, Tommy! Straight to fucking hell! Just like me and Simon! You come to me to get closer to Simon Coventry and…you stand there, talking about not doing anything when it’s my men that have to go through the other end of the barrel. Kill me and pull that trigger for some fucking honorable reason. Like an honorable man and not like—not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate,” he spits. Tommy stares at him blankly. 

“Look, mate—Tommy. I will fucking help you but you have to be fucking patient. The races at Sabini’s tracks are happening soon. You just have to be patient.”

Tommy shoves Alfie away from him. He wouldn’t understand—he’d never understand. Time was ticking and if he didn’t move now, he’ll get killed.

-

“I think it would be much better to wear the green,” Simon says, looking at the dress that you have on for the races. “Wear it,”

“Oh, but it would be such a waste,” you told him, twirling to show him the way the fabric draped beautifully on you. “Don’t you think so? Besides, it’s going to be so hot at the races today. I don’t want to sweat,”

Simon pinches his nose.

“I suppose so,” he agrees, striding over you and laying his hand on your waist. “You do look ravishing, darling. I already can’t wait to take you home, hm?”

“We have to make sure our horse wins first,” you tell him, laying your head on his chest while you let his eyes rake over your body. “Simon, can-can you kiss me?” 

“Why so sudden?” he asked, turning you around. “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, studying his face. This was the Simon tha you loved; the kind Simon that you rarely see these days. “I just want you to kiss me, my love. Can’t you kiss your darling wife?” He smiles a small smile, taking your chin with his gentle fingers and kissing you. 

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Simon.” you told him, pecking his lips once more before a knock breaks you away. 

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he tells you. 

“Of course, you can go ahead. Let me just fix my hair and we can go,” you replied, turning away from him. He was so warm…so, so, so, warm. Simon leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’ve been good lately, no Tommy Shelby…no requests…no anything. You could tell that he loves it; that you were obedient but if you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, you had to play your cards right. You fix your hair one last time and double-check the contents of your purse. It felt heavy, it felt right. 

You had to get this right; you were living on borrowed time after all. 

Your car stops at one of Darby Sabini’s tracks in London. Simon requested privacy and privacy he’ll get. No one knows that the Coventry’s are present in the race except for Alfie, Sabini, and the men who ushered you to the private room. No word was supposed to be out that you were both here. Simon forbade it. You let Simon walk in front of you with his hand clasped around yours. The room you were in had whisky, rum, and other items that you knew were not for the general public. When you arrived, a man with a hat was waiting.

“Darling, I’d like for you to meet Alfie Solomons,” Simon tells you, removing his hand from yours to shake Alfie Solomons’ hand. “He’s been the one supplying us with security. Sabini will get here in a while, but I think that it’s better for you to meet Mr. Solomons first.” 

“Good…day, Mrs. Coventry,” Alfie greets, a polite bow sent to your way. 

“Good day, Mr. Solomons. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” you offered, smiling at him. 

“Good things, I hope?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Mr. Coventry, Darby Sabini’s been looking for you. Something about your dealings. I don’t really keep track, you know?”

“Of course,” Simon nods. He kisses your head. “Will it be alright to leave you with Mr. Solomons for the meantime, my love?”

“Sure, darling,” you said, your hand tightening on the beaded purse in your hand. He smiles at you before leaving, looking for Darby Sabini. You watched the door close and you were about to sit down when Alfie Solomons spoke.

“You know, love,” Alfie starts, walking to you closer. He stops right beside your ear. “If you wanted to hide that gun better, you’d have to loosen your grip on your purse. I can see the outline of the barrel from where I was standing.” he says before leaving you in the room. “Darby Sabini’s not here but he is somewhere by the racetracks,” he hints.

“What do you want?” you asked, following him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Tommy Shelby,” he nods to himself. Your blood runs cold, and your face turns pale. “Go,” he urges. “Do whatever you want,”

You exited the special room with haste. Blood was ringing in your ears and you couldn’t breathe properly. You were stumbling with adrenaline, with hope, with…every single emotion that you never thought you could feel and comprehend. Nobody else was in the corridors leading to the room marked with an unassuming planter box beside it. You cautiously entered and Simon turned around immediately. His face tenses with alarm when he sees you. 

“Darling, what are you doing here? You should go back with Mr. Solomons before Darby Sabini sees you. I told our men to all leave so he and I could have some privacy,” he warns, eyes darting everywhere.

“He’s not…he’s not here,” you tell him, unloading the gun from your purse with shaky hands. 

“What—what is this about?” Simon asks, looking pointedly at the gun that Tommy gave you long ago. You weren’t even sure if it was still working. You point the gun at him, straight to his face. “You’re going to kill me? Is that it?” he asked, anger taking over his features. “You’re going to kill me when I’ve given you everything! I gave you your fucking life, Y/N. Put that gun down and-and we’ll pretend like this never happened,”

“No! You—you took everything away from me, Simon. You took my family away. You took Johnny away from me and you still—you still expect me to love you? You took me away and weaponized my freedom. You think—you think that I can still love you? I wake up every day counting to ten if you’d hit me. If you’d shove me down and slap me and kick me. This isn’t love, Simon! This is prison,” you enraged, your gun shaking. “You told me that…you told me that the only way out is if I kill you,” you heaved. 

“Y/N…you’re being callous right now, love. You’re not you…you’re angry,” he tries, walking towards you but you just shook your head. “You’re being stupid!”

“Stop! Simon, stop!” you shouted, the volume of your voice raisins. “I can never be smart for you. I’ll always be a property in your eyes and I—and I’ll never ever be your equal,” you sobbed. “This is something that I need to do. You broke me,” you cried, tears falling in your eyes. “You broke me, and you still expect me to love you,”

“I love you, Y/N,” he sobs. “I love you—“

The coiled spring that wrung your heart explodes.

A manicured hand pulls the trigger, and your husband falls to the ground along with the gun that you held. Your hands shake and you fall on the floor, wailing. Now that the job was done, who else would you have? You crawled towards him, your dress was getting dirty, but you didn’t care. Who thought you’d finally use the gun that Tommy bought you for protection? 

You lay your head down on his chest, there was no heartbeat. He was dead, Simon was dead. The trembling of your hands, hold what you could. The blood trails down your arm and you just lay there. He was dead. Simon was dead, you killed him. You killed Simon. You killed the man who loves you. 

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk,” a gruff voice that belonged to Alfie Solomons says behind you. “You’re more capable than what Tommy painted you out to be,”

“Where is he?” you asked. It was odd, you thought you’d be crying by now. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Sabini’s men took him,” Alfie shrugged. “Simon ordered Sabini to kill Tommy today. You did well,”

“I killed my husband,” you told him. The waver in your voice couldn’t be pinpointed to one single emotion. “I just…I just killed my husband,”

“I see that,” he replied. “This wasn’t Tommy’s plan really. He was supposed to kill Simon and I was supposed to guard you while this all happens but…I guess Simon was quite intelligent too,” he says, pushing Simon’s limp arm with his cane. “You’re a good shot,”

“Mr. Solomons, I’ll buy your silence for five thousand pounds. I’ll let your men take care of this scene for ten thousand more. Make sure that none of this is blamed on me or on Tommy,” you negotiated, pulling yourself away from your husband. You were still trembling and Alfie could see how hard you tried to supress yourself from revealing too much.

“You just landed yourself millions. I don’t think a few thousand more will be burdensome on your pockets?” he asked, looming over you. He extends his hand for you to take, and you do, hauling yourself to meet him at eye level. You swallowed. 

“Blame this all on Darby Sabini,” you told him. You stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure that the cash is ready for you after the funeral. I’m sure you’d want very powerful friends on the inside?”

Alfie nods, a smirk forming on his face. Looks like you never needed Tommy in the first place. 

The police found you wailing on the scene of the crime, the weapon nowhere to be found. Alfie Solomons testified that you were with him the whole time when one of his men ran to tell you that Sabini’s men shot him in the head. He had someone testify on it too.The funeral was private and quick, you decided to bury him with his parents in the mausoleum with ‘COVENTRY’ written in gold. Simon bequeathed every property to your name in his will. You were free; you were finally, finally, free. 

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1922

After selling your mansion in London, you moved back to Birmingham. You bought a house that was big enough to have guests over but still not as massive as your mansion in London. You haven’t talked to Shelby’s in a year, even though they did lend a hand with what happened to Simon. Apparently, it was Polly who arranged a meeting between some Lizzie Stark and Sabini. Tommy and Alfie connived to kill Simon, but Sabini’s men took Tommy away to some far away place before anything could happen. You couldn’t face them yet, not with the freshness of your wound…not with the guilt that clawed its way deep into you. 

You’ve been with Simon for such a long time that you almost forgot what it was like to be yourself. 

You looked at the garden outside your window, feeling nostalgic because this was the same garden where Tommy used to take you all those years ago. You were only kids back then…how time flies. Does he know thatnyou moved back to Birmingham? Is he giving you space?

You watched the rain fall from the French windows, appreciating the breeze and the calm that the pitter patter gave you. You looked on, a single figure walking towards your house and you smiled. For the first time since your life started, you were finally free. 

-

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done…actually, it isn’t. I will be uploading an epilogue sometime soon and then, I will be doing a Q&A afterwards which by the way, I’m already accepting question submissions! I will be posting all of the questions in one post and I hope you guys send in some questions about the story. I want to thank every one of you for loving the story of Y/N and Tommy and it has been such a ride. I can’t write anything about a final author’s not yet…I still don’t know how to feel to finally be able to finish this story…but maybe soon? Thank you so much for waiting and thank you so much for the overwhelming love and support! As always, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, or maybe all… to show your appreciation! Thank you so much.

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things to think about for characters

do they have allergies?

what foods will they not touch?

what kinds of music do they like?

how are they around new people?

do they speak in an accent?

have they tried learning a new language?

how many languages do they know?

what is a song that will always make them cry?

how do they cry? heaving? silently? sobbing?

how do they dress? for practicality or fashion?

what is the first thing they notice about a stranger?

what is their humour like?

do they have scars? what caused them?

do they wear jewelry?

are they a frivolous spender or a miser?

do they prefer luxury or practicality?

who would they quote?

what could make them change their mind?

who is the first person they'd call?

how are they around animals? do they have pets?

what is their favourite childhood food?

what is something they've never told anyone?

childhood friends?

what are habits they've picked up from other people?

what are their guilty pleasures?

what is something they're staunchly against?

do they speak a certain way? do they use contractions? popular turns of phrase?

can they fall in love? what does it look like? does it differ between people -- friends vs family?

what would they rather die than do?

what is their biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again.

So... I found this and now it keeps coming to mind. You hear about "life-changing writing advice" all the time and usually its really not—but honestly this is it man.

I'm going to try it.

Please, reblog! IIt’s called self defense. Apart from having here, in the US, one of the highest cases of homicide and rape in the world and high rate of GBV, think about how this could help your mother or sister