ruby being the one who saved tommy will live rent free on my mind forever. the scene was so beautifully done ❤️. the scene where charles decided to leave with lizzie was too a beautiful emotional and heartbreaking scene. it’s like the kids it’s taking care of their parents the way they both can tommy asking charles to take care of his mum (lizzie) was so meaniful too. i honestly loved the finale and i cannot wait to watch the peaky movie!
Dad… Dad, come out, come out! Dad, it’s me. Did Polly send you? Or am I dead already? No. You’re not dead. You’re not even sick. But I am, my darling. I’m sick. Sick like you was. No. Not true. I know it. You’ve got to live, Daddy. You let the fire go out. Light the fire again and get warm, and you will see that you must live.
Note: you can read this ahead on Ao3!! I plan on posting it when I figure out how I want my blog to look. Should it be reborn? Upgraded? :-) ☛ click here
If you’re uncomfy or too shy to comment under this post my ASKis open at all hours and the anonymous option is there too! Even if you don’t follow me or read fan fiction at all, I’d really reaaaallyappreciate if you just shared your opinion on this very important matter. #1 is the white, more minimalistic looking with a lot more information about the fic option and #2 is the old, purple/pink, straight to the point option. WHO IS PRETTIER?
“He’s so extraordinarily striking-looking onscreen. You look at shots of him and you think, ‘My God, it’s so beautifully lit,’ and they go, ‘No, we haven’t started lighting yet.’ That’s just Cillian. He brings his own light”- Helen McCrory talking about Cillian Murphy.
Summary: Tommy hires you to sing at the Garrison and after growing fond of you and your performances, takes it upon himself to be your protector.
Word Count: 1,308
Warnings: Harassment, violence
It wouldn’t hurt the Garrison to have a little culture. That’s what Polly had told him, and that’s what led to hours of auditioning girls to sing at the Garrison a few nights a week. Tommy was keen on finding just the right girl to bring the aforementioned culture to their little pub. And as soon as you hit that first note, he knew that singer was going to be you. He let Arthur and John put in their opinions as well, but regardless what they’d said, Tommy had more than made up his mind. You were everything he was searching for. Beautiful and unobtainable in the way that lounge and pub singers often were, a starlet plucked from the crowd on her way towards her big break. And with the voice of an angel to boot.
“You’re hired,” Tommy said with a smile, a smile which only grew when you beamed one of your own right back at him. His brothers nodded in approval and you started with your first set at the Garrison that very night. It was a small crowd for your first performance. Tommy promised you a bigger audience the following night, when he’d had time to get the word around, but you were happy enough with the smaller, more intimate crowd for a warm up. You actually thought you could grow comfortable there.
As promised, however, the following night did bring in a much larger crowd for you to perform for. Though it was a bit more intimidating, you dazzled just as you had the night before, and during your initial audition. The applause was infectious, and you were finding more confidence in your voice and performance.
Before you knew it a month had gone by and your gig was less new and more familiar, but nonetheless thrilling. Every time you got on stage you felt like a new person, radiating an energy unlike any you’d ever had offstage. And it was always fueled by the familiar face of Thomas Shelby in the crowd. Sometimes he’d sit front and center, often when he was alone. Other times, he’d sit in the back with various other members of the Shelby clan. Either way, you knew the night would be a great one just for seeing his face as he listened to you sing.
This night, however, wasn’t quite as normal as the rest. You began your first number as always, soaking in the spotlight, and searching the room for Tommy’s face, spotting him towards the back this time, sitting with Arthur. A sense of relief washed over you as you continued your song. Eyes fixed on Tommy, you didn’t notice the man sitting in front, eyeing you up and down. A couple of songs later, and you were ready for your intermission.
You loved the reprieve, being able to rest your voice for a few minutes and have a drink before getting back to it. It made your job feel more like a fun night out, and it had all been courtesy of one Thomas Shelby. Typically, he came over and asked how you were doing, but tonight some other bloke had beat him to it.
“Evening, gorgeous,” the man flirted with you as he sidled up to the bar. You gave him a polite smile, but nothing more, having gotten used to your fair share of passes being made at you. He ordered you a drink you didn’t ask for and shimmied closer. You tried to put some distance between the two of you, but he kept pursuing you. “What’s wrong, pretty baby? I can treat you right if you give me the chance.”
He stunk of alcohol, and you didn’t trust him. You thought of taking yourself outside for a moment, claiming to need a breath of fresh air, but luckily for you, one had already come to you. Stepping right in between you and the nuisance of a man was Tommy. You hadn’t seen him since you walked off stage, but you were happy for the sight of him now. “You harassing a lady in my pub,” he asked, a thinly veiled threat woven into the tone of his words.
“No, Mr. Shelby,” the man replied confidently. “Just buying your chanteuse here a drink. It’s her that’s being frigid. She may have a pretty voice, but the bitch don’t know how to take it when a man pays her a compliment.”
You thought Tommy was going to throw him out or give him a speech about respecting women, but you weren’t expecting him to pull back his arm and meet the man’s face with his fist. The punch sounded like it cracked bone, and you felt your stomach lurch at the sound. You hadn’t realized just how strong of a man Tommy was until then.
Before the fight could escalate, you got a fair distance away from the action, not wanting to get yourself injured in the midst of everything. While your harasser was getting the worse end of the fight, he did manage to clock Tommy in the jaw once before Arthur stepped in and hauled the offender outside, essentially throwing him on his ass at the door. “And don’t you come back, eh,” you heard Arthur shout to him and he stumbled off.
Your heart was still beating hard in your chest as the Garrison’s door swung shut with that good for nothing on the other side of it. “You okay, Tom,” Arthur asked, as he came back towards the bar. Tommy held his fist in his other hand, indicating he’d injured it, but of course, his pride wouldn’t let him admit it, even to his brother.
“I’m alright, Arthur. Can you bring me and the girl a whiskey?” Arthur nodded and placed the order with the bartender as Tommy made his way over to you.
“Some fight,” you remarked, taking in the state of him. “You always jump to a woman’s defense like that?”
“Maybe not as often as I should,” Tommy replied, “but for you, always.”
You scrunched your face up, trying to figure him out. “Thomas Shelby, do you fancy me?” Arthur showed up just then with Tommy’s requested drinks, allowing him a moment to consider his answer. If Arthur had heard your question, he was wise enough not to insert himself into the conversation.
When he’d gone, Tommy took his gaze off his wounded hand long enough to meet your eyes and he felt compelled to be honest with you. “I suppose I do,” he confessed. “Ever since you started here, I felt protective of you. Guess now I’m learning why that is.” He paused for a moment, trying to read your expression. “I don’t expect anything,” he quickly added.
“Well I think you deserve a bit of gratitude at least. While I don’t normally encourage violence, I appreciate you setting him straight for me. I hate to think where it might have gone had you not stepped in when you did.”
At this Tommy smiled, only fleetingly as a wince of pain followed when he flexed his hand. “Are you sure you’re alright,” you questioned.
“Fine. Bruised, most likely. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Aunt Polly will see to it.”
“I could, if you’d be willing. I haven’t always made my living as a pub singer, you know?”
“Yeah? Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Lets get you elsewhere first. The Garrison, while one of the nicer establishments in the area, is no place to tend to wounds.”
“I think our patrons might miss their favorite singer,” Tommy reasoned.
“Pretty sure my employer will understand,” you teased, getting up from the table. You held your hand out to him and he accepted it with his good hand.
“I hear he’s an understanding sort of man,” Tommy quipped back.
