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kaetastic · 4 years

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HISTORY UNFOLDS. 1/3

pairing: Finn Shelby x Reader, Luca Changretta x Reader, Deceased!John Shelby x Reader

summary: A favour that is pending to be fulfilled calls Y/N to Birmingham, from a very old friend. However, the youngest Shelby soon discovers her past with his deceased brother, John, and the one who had ordered the murdering, Luca Changretta.

word count: 14.6k (i did that)

warning: all sorts of angst, mentions of death, war, mentions of violence, mentions of firearm, mentions of blood, smut, profanities, age gap (read note)

note: okay, so- i was kind of pissed that we barely have finn content. anyways, i wanted to clear a few things about this writing. it is set place in season 4, john died and luca changretta has arrived for his vendetta. finn is 18, the reader is 37. the reader’s last name is stein :D hope you don’t mind, enjoy and have a good day!

Part 2 | Part 3

Muffled thuds stomped against the ground. The heavy gait they trudged through the still air that had been spurted with blood was that of a crackling of thunder, ready to split the land into two. Weaving against one another like ruffled locks of hair, the piercing grass blades obeyed with every force that pressed onto them; the bed of green and yellow compressed into a hefty brick. Just like millions of menacing syringes pointing into the clear sky as if defending soldiers of the ground creatures walk upon, the patchy grass was ready to embed their toxins into bloodstreams. Despite the steel gun’s stomach filled with clanking bullets; men drowned in blood and bodies resting upon the ground as if it was up for display, the sky played with the merry rays of light.

A staggering sigh fell off her lips as her thumb caressed the chilling metal of the syringe that cried for help in her suffocating grip. Pressing into her head was the bulging intricate lines of the artwork on the tree, the leaves danced with every kiss of the wind. Almost as if it was calling the men that brushed their fingers over the trigger, painting the walls of the camp with dying blood. Blood of those wounded; blood of those who’ve saved countless lives of bleeding soldiers. Fear was the bandage that sloppily wrapped around her chipping heart. War was more than terrifying. It had been for the soldiers prancing around the land of blood. It had been for the wives and children back at home. It had been for their dogs who would stare at the door, waiting. Especially when sizzling barrels that were loaded with merciless ammunition were hunting for the sole survivor who had managed to flee away from their execution. She was outnumbered, guns to a single, used syringe.

Pressing her lips as tight as she had locked the door of her house that must’ve been drowning in layers of dust before she had hurled herself into the waging war, the battle that raged inside her sliced and butchered every thought of her making a minuscule noise. Even a slight push of both of the breathing organ could lead a body to stand as shooting practice. Y/N glanced down to the stainless steel syringe, neck-craning like an ancient spine of a parasol. Streaks of red stroke her arms as if her body was a the counter where the butcher’s knife met with the poor animal, the foul smell encroached her potency to breathe even though it was something she had already gotten used to. Well, she was forced to. However, she could not digest the fact that the liquid used to run through someone’s body, aiding them to breathe and live. The staining blood shook its leg, waiting to decompose on her freshly scrubbed apron.

If it wasn’t enough of the stark red glazing on her body, beads of the warm liquid coated her tongue as her teeth stabbed into it as if she was scooping up a plot of dirt to nurse another plant. Just like that back at home. Despite her menacing situation, she hoped deep down that the neighbours she placed her trust on, had taken care of her plants. Dread engulfed her body. A tremble waved through her quivering, overcooked noodle knees when the sound she despaired, trickled into her ears. Murmurings slithered behind her unstable feet like a starving serpent, brushing against her skin frequently with its uncomfortably slick scales, spiralling up her leg as it flickered its tongue, tasting the air for nourishment. Fear.

A string of rough mumbled words from a language she could not point out, poured into the silent air. Not long after, grumbles followed the statement before shuffling of feet rubbed against the compacted grass that once used to be a gorgeous, wide field. Now, it was no different than the streets of a run-down city, pressed as tough as the stone bricks that made up most of the homes. It holds the burden of carrying the names of murderers- killings in the name of their country.

Seconds ticked as hours. The sand trickled down the sleek glass as if crumpled soil had poured out of a cracked pot, one by one. It was agonizing to watch the substance from one side of the tent dive down to plaster down the walls; painting it as if a circus. The faint blotches of clouds that painted the fresh sky seemed to take its time to allocate to another area. Even though it felt as if her heart had been tugged out of her chest cavity to sing a song extremely close to her ears, Y/N tried her best to compromise her chest heaving; forcing her lungs to reuse the same air once again. On the other hand, the only question that remained in her head, blaring persistently was, for how long?

Before she knew it, a whirling of metal echoed through the still, open field. With modicum movements, her head reluctantly turned to face the man who dangled her life over the thin thread-like a puppet. Her throat became parched. Every bubble of moisture that was once the reason she could talk, evaporated from her mouth as death sat in the waiting room, reading the latest paper while he waited for her with great patience. Just like he was with everyone else.

“Found ya.” In broken English, an aged man with a revolver in his grasp snickered. Like a vicious serpent, his tongue flickered to slap his lips as if he was a child, sloppily shoving food down his throat. The scars that trekked down his face reminded her of the newly purchased china dinnerware she had placed on the top of the highest shelf for display, which unfortunately had all met their sorrowful ends; till this day, she pondered how the day would’ve gone if she hadn’t had nimble fingers. All she could see behind his eyes were suppressed anger; an unnecessary need of vengeance. The uniform he wore similar to that of a burlap sack, a boring beige. Despite the prominent lines of age that created a path on his face, the grip he held onto the firearm did not waver- the mouth of the revolver yawned between her eyes.

Birds chirped in the air like an orchestra, their singing was innocent- a gentle melody and a tune that was in sync so perfectly even though their volume stood on the same height. It rained over the bloody land, almost as if it was meant to cleanse the mess humans have created. While the half elevating bunk of the planet cheered with another passing day of joy, the latter was dancing in a bath of terror. This was it, this was the end of her line. If she had only listened to the incessant amount of warnings by several different people and the endless nagging from her friend who she looked back now, spoke only of truth, she wouldn’t be at gunpoint by a man who seemed to be thrice her age. Not to forget his face that looked as if it had a ride under a meat butchering blade. Just as she was, stubborn and blinded by the need to be right, Y/N had decided to oppose. What did she achieve? Nothing, but she was confident that her pride was tucked safely.

Fisting her hand into a ball with immense pressure that pierced her fingernails into her palm like a bed of nails, blood oozed out, seeping onto the dirt as nourishment; the glass chamber of the syringe let out a woozy crack. The only supply the abused land will ever get during the heinous battle would either be from astringent sweat plunging from the soldiers, the haunting lake of blood or the fitful rainfall.

With her eyes squinted shut and toes curled, the prayers she chanted in her head tugged the circular rope around her neck tighter, decreasing the diameter of the hole. Plucks of fibre dug into her skin, the voice in her head amplified- her call for someone. Religion was something the volunteered nurse did not insert in her life as much as some targeted individuals, for she found it irrelevant and obstructive to things such as routine and the words one would utter. However, she stood in front of the enemy, knees trembling with fear, calling out for a God she didn’t believe in seconds ago.

It seemed the trickling of sand had halted, the glass had scattered across the red floor, embedding itself into the decrepit wall. The elongated time that was predicted by a gypsy woman was a lie. The words she had believed once it had fallen from the woman’s lips. She was nothing but a hoax. Y/N acted oblivious to the idea that she would see death prematurely might’ve been because she had scribbled her name on that card- calling upon her death wish with limited time.

During the nauseating ride over the bumpy ground towards the slashing air, Y/N held no doubt that what she would soon see would be an image she would not be able to wipe off her head. However, she had doubted the countless possibilities that could have dropped upon her. Never did she see an ancient man that might as well be her grandfather, aim his revolver towards her.

It was only humane of her to wish that she would walk out of the vile battle in one piece. Everyone did so. But, it seemed that the gardener had tended to pluck out the most ravishing flower that would bring a bag’s worth of money.

There. An agonizing slow-paced train sauntered past her. Even though Y/N was stationed far away from the fields before, she was recently moved to another tent where she was slightly closer towards the bloodbath. And the bangs and slicing of the air with an agile speed from firearms were still new sounds she was getting familiar to since previously, the most she had heard was that of an accidental gunshot. Followed by a spine-chilling bang, was a piercing crack. It had not waited for a second to fall into the uniform pace of the noise. Like a collision of fist towards a drenched plot of soil, the sound rang through her ears. Then, the noise of an agile collapsing hefty object was absorbed by the starving land. Her eyes shot wide open. Immediately, she checked her body for a pool of blood to make sure that even if there was no pain, her body would’ve surely rotted by blood loss. But no, it was not her that had a bullet had flown through.

A thud was muffled by the layers of blood covered by yellowed–stained grass. The sword-like object sunk into the ground as an indent that was to be created by the soldier. Once her eyes had landed onto the corpse that would scar a hole on his head until his body would be part of the land he used to breathe upon, tracks of emotions overflowed through her. Speckles of worn off skin circled the gushing orifice, the crimson blood bursts out to paint the ground. Finally adding colour to his sorrowful uniform. The stream of blood that trickled down his nose reminded her of the water pipe at her house that needed fixing.

Snapping her head to face the hero who had tugged the barrier away from the early end of her life, saving her, a twinkle of relief gushed over her. With a pistol in his hand that was down one bullet, he let out a staggering breathe of air. The smearing of dirt across his cheeks had made it seem as if he had rolled his head over a land of flaky dirt with a splash of water.

“Tommy.” The man was pulled away from the trance at what he had just done.

Letting out a slight smile, he lent out his arm for her to grab, “Come on, get up, the others are still here. Just don’t forget to pay that favour, Stein.” Y/N nodded before grasping his arm. How could she ever forget the man who had been the reason she still had a future?

Obnoxiously boisterous rings from the telephone bounced off the walls of the spacious, palatial hotel room. The vibration of the wooden table under the machine sounded like incessant drumming of crying droplets from the clouds against a pane of glass. Blaring from the vent was frigid wind, kissing the exhausted pair who rested under the thick covers that were meant to shield them from the cold. It seemed it had not done its job.

Warmth radiated from the body that rested an inch away from her, a broad back that had been splayed with taut muscles, occupied the other whole half of the bed. The scent of sandalwood lingered on her sheets. The gentle caress of the cotton blanket was getting warmer. Her leg shifted to find a chillier spot under the blanket, accidentally brushing a pair of legs. An exhausted sigh brushed over her lips when the phone would not rest, continuing to dance on the table.

Since it was a bright and clear morning, Y/N had to cover her bare body, because the window that expanded the whole wall offered a jaw-dropping view of the city. The surrounding buildings might’ve not defeated the towering height of the hotel she stayed in; however, it is never a bad idea to stay safe. Before dashing across the wide window, she had tugged the diaphanous silk robe that was thrown haphazardly over the lampshade above the side table. As if the ringing had been a test for her morning patience, she stomped towards the machine with a huff- trying her best to prevent herself from making too much sound as she liked the sleeping guest to proceed with his needed, peaceful slumber. The frozen air had coated the wooden floor during the night, with every step she took, it kissed her feet like bites from a kitten. It sent shivers up her spine since the only thing that covered her body was a thin layer of silk.

Snatching the phone, she mumbled underneath her breath, not allowing the frigid air to get to her, “Paris, 146.”

The sudden desperate need for a gulp of water coated her tongue, the crying from her head caused the woman to softly tug on the wire connection so she could reach the pitcher. While she poured herself plain, old boring water, she waited for the other side of the line. A stream of water trekked down her throat; she thought it was a wrong call.

“Is this Y/N Stein?” The voice was so familiar, hoarse and raspy. She could smell the cigarette.

“Who’s asking?” Whispering under her breath, Y/N’s feet brushed against one another as all she wanted to do was jump back into the warmth of the bed. Y/N shot a glance at the body that laid peacefully in the blanket while took a sip of the refreshing water. The late-night activity had left her parched.

“Thomas Shelby.”

“Tommy?”

A hum vibrated into her ears, “Remember that favour back then?” Y/N hummed, fingers caressing the wire, twirling it and curling it into loops as she replayed the memory. “I heard that you were in France.”

“Still am, though, words spread quickly.” A chuckle was emitted from the other side of the line.

“Come to Birmingham,” This was it, the only time Thomas Shelby had made contact with her, despite him being her life saviour. Even though it had been eight years since they had last seen each other, there was never an attempt from both sides to invite one another for a reunion. Although a part of her had missed the middle brother who was six years a junior to her, the sudden recall of the man that she had done the most to wipe him off her memory by drowning herself in oceans of the strongest liquor, which had unfortunately failed (she had thought of the intriguing idea of possible brain trauma but what had halted her was if she wanted to forget the joyful memories). “And oh, bring some souvenirs.”

Without refuting the order, Y/N placed the phone back to where it resided. She let out a low chuckle at his words, finally piecing it all together after the call had ended. The wires were being watched.

“What a sight to wake up to,” A husky voice stated in a thick French accent, slicing the empty air into two loaves. Averting her attention towards the bed, her eyes landed on the male who leaned against the headboard, his elbows pointing up in the air- sporting his flexing muscles on display. The chestnut-haired male wore an irritating yet charming smirk that ran across his face, his pearly teeth glittered under the sunlight. It was possibly one of the reasons why he was in her room. “Come ‘ere.”

As she ambled- the prominent raising peak underneath the sheet was evidence that his eyes were running down her figure shamelessly as sinful thoughts ran in his head. She swayed her hips before halting beside the bed. Shrugging the translucent sheet off her shoulders, the robe pooled around her like mercury, exposing her at all her glory. It was not the first time he saw her naked. And it was only hope that it would certainly not be his last. The worry she had not too long ago of being seen by strangers from the opposing building had been thrown out of the window. Tugging the blanket off, his tongue ran across his bottom lip while he devoured on the sight, his eyes trained on hers as she indulged the throbbing shaft.

“Ah, fuck me.” A wanton moan fell off her lips at good-morning sight, already desperate for the bulging veins to caress and drag against her walls.

“So the lady says.” He groaned as the warm feeling of last night engulfed him. Strings of moans and groans like that of the night before rebounded from the walls.

Chatter and bickering hopped around the circular table. The chandelier that stood above them created wavering shadows with every muscle they moved. Warm and dim yellow rays coated the bodies. Even though sunlight shone inside the house, there was still a need for the electricity to be utilized. The men who did not have the privilege to sit on the chairs but have the opportunity to observe the constant feud watched the circle of people endlessly hurl words onto one another. Well, it was mostly between the pair of blue eyes and the distraught aunt.

The wallpaper was rich in green, a bland colour as a background to the contrasting blaring blue ceramic plates that sat above in the shelves. A faint knock rapped the wooden door. Since a battle was being undone in the room, the sound of the guest was engulfed by an unsatisfied individual on the table. The tension inside the room was palpable even though a door stood between Y/N and the conversers.

Running her eyes on the walls, she tried to spot something interesting along the hallway which she could get lost into. However, all she could think of was the souvenirs she had brought all the way from France; the long-awaited reunion of an old lover. She wouldn’t call it nervousness, she would never admit to such a label. So she went with the assumption that it was the jitters. The patiently waiting-woman couldn’t help but wonder if Thomas had told everyone about her or if she was going to be the surprise that leads to heart attacks. Just like at the pictures, a play of her memories with the middle brother pulsed with every beat of her heart.

After a few seconds had passed, her hands were quick to snatch at the pocket watch that was stuffed in her pocket. The door was yet to open. Turning back to look at the men she solely trusted, the English shrugged his shoulders- not comprehending to why they had not been in the room. Raising her hand in the air once again, she rapped the door. As if a sword had run through the thick air that was beginning to suffocate the arguing chests, silence barged through the doors. Enlightenment to the skulls that would’ve snapped into fragments.

“Finn, get it.” Bopping his head to his brother’s instructions without any bicker, the youngest dashed towards the door. Thomas took a puff of his cigarette, the swirl of smoke inhaled into his lungs, warming his chest.

An antagonizing slow creak blurted in the air, glueing all the eyes onto the unexpected guest. Questions sprinted in Polly’s head. Was it someone he had been expecting? He had looked calm and collected, though, that was just how the second oldest Shelby was, after the war. His face like a brick wall, only chips of cement could sputter out of his mouth while his face remained stoic. By the voices in the air, her doubt had been correct. It was hard to believe Thomas would do such a thing, inviting someone- most likely a stranger to a business meeting which should have only consisted of the closed Peaky Blinders, without informing others. It was something he rarely did if the other times were eradicated where he proceeded with his plan without informing the family. Oh, that was most of the time. There was no extra chair for the guest. The most understandable reason was Thomas wanted to introduce an ally that he has been hiding for God knows how long. Even that brought steam to puff out of Polly’s ears. Her eyes threw a glance at her nephew, whose back was facing the door, only taking frequent puffs of his cigarette. What game is he playing?

“Is Thomas Shelby here?” Finn did not help but notice the towering bodies behind her figure and the humongous bags they held- not even quiver, which should be a sign that it might’ve been an attack of sort. A slight tint of red stroked his face as his fingers brushed over the holster in his jacket. She was either a woman of power from the men behind her or she was nothing but a spoiled lady. Although he did deal with women with power from day-to-day bases, which was more of observing the women Tommy would tangle with, there was something that enchanted her ambience. A spell cast onto him.

Taking rapid glances at his appearance as he turned around to look at his brother for an answer, it was as if she could see his character like a display, seeing through him transparently. Not a bad suit, hair combed extremely cautiously and the face of a babe. She quirked an eyebrow, an interesting yet perplexing combination. Although he did look very familiar, Y/N didn’t bother to prod much into the idea as she sees faces every single day.

Finally facing her once again, he nods at her question. The slight opening of the door only allowed her to view the wallpaper and a head from the boy’s lanky shoulders, he shot his inquiry, catching her off-guard, “What’s your business with Tommy?”

Believing what he was doing was the right protocol, Finn proceeded with the short interrogation; even though it felt like it was being reverted to him every time he took a rapid glance at the men behind her, “Why? You his bodyguard?”

The recently changed boy to a man, wrinkled his nose, gaze focused on her as he tried his hardest to read her, much to his dismay, every item his eyes grazed over, it had only caused him to go in a loop. The array of golden rings decorating her fingers like a twinkling Christmas tree, caused him to assume that she might’ve been a lady flaunting with money. However, the endless list of questions Finn had thought of caused him to be nauseous as the acidic liquid elevated his throat. Where would she get her money from? “I’m not, I’m his brother. Will you answer the question or not?” Blaring across her mind were countless of possibilities that she could’ve said to respond to his question.

But, the bucket of water splashed across her blackboard, flooding it with a thick layer of glazed liquid, obstructing her ability to see all of the answers when his tongue had run across his bottom lip. Oh no. This was the youngest brother John had told her about during the rare days where they could sit back while others guarded. Her mouth gaped open to respond to his question; however, the deeper she swam in the mess, the harder it was for her to remain in search.

Finn raised his eyebrows, arms crossed to lean against the door frame- emitting a slight cocky aura which Y/N could not help but find slightly amusing and magnetic. Before he got back to his more respectful position when it felt like he was being judged by the accompanying man, Finn’s mouth gaped open to press the trigger again. Despite the voices in his head reminding that he was a Shelby.

“Just let her in.” Glances were thrown from the ladies, definitely not expecting the unexpected guest who would interrupt the meeting to be a female. What was she? The freshest whore Tommy had indulged in? If it wasn’t for Thomas’s interruption, she would’ve surely needed a seat for the torturing investigation. Somewhat not grasping the idea of how his brother knew of the guests’ gender, Finn followed the command without a word, opening the door wide open for the guests.

“Wait here.” Y/N’s voice of superiority caused soft trickling of fingers to brush up Finn’s spine. Since the door was blocked by Thomas’s body, no one could see who the individual was, unless they decided to take a risky side peek. However, the three men that stood next to the wall, obeying the command, with three massive bags in their grasp, had directly caused everyone to be pushed to the edge. What was Thomas planning? The corners of Tommy’s lips curled up once distant clicking of heels echoed closer towards his ears, but never a smile, never since Grace’s death. The door creaked back shut. Moving aside, Tommy revealed the woman that caused everyone to get riled up. The ones who stared at her with a slight recognition of her familiar face had finally pieced it all together once he had announced the guest. Finn took his newly given seat at a table, an honour, a prerogative. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wooden chair to watch the scene unfold.

“Thomas Shelby, it’s been a long fucking time.” A satisfied line sported on Tommy’s lips.

“Everybody, this is Y/N Stein, all the way from America. Was in my unit before she decided to desert us all.” The youngest in the room eyes’ widened at the sudden collision of information which leads him to be dunked into a mass of an ocean, it was overwhelming.

An amused huff escaped her lips at his obvious lie he had just hurled out on new pairs of eyes, well, it was half-lie and half-truth. Although it was not entirely a lie, he had just scratched off the surface, which without deeper context, it would’ve been an easy misunderstanding, “Close your fucking mouth, Tom,” Noticing that the rest of the group did not get the note, Y/N finished to defend herself. “I had to leave for some issue.”

Thomas rolled his eyes at her horrible attempt to drift from the topic, he was amused at how she was trying to humble herself, “Saved John’s life and off she went to Germany to spy for the fucking British Secret Service.”

Slapping his arm, Y/N stood flabbergasted that he had spilt her past during the war. Lizzie watched the interaction with vigilant eyes, alcohol was thrown onto the fire behind her eyes- feeding the voracious element. It was not just her though.

“Y/N Stein. It’s been so long since I’ve heard the name.” Shooting up, Arthur pulled the lady into his arm. He held on for seconds, not a thought of his wife would be roaring with confusion and jealousy flew passed his head as he embraced the reunion. During the bloodshed, the Shelby brothers had enjoyed her company, especially after John had fallen into a terrible condition, making them closer than ever. Even though the middle child was nowhere near his station, she had decided to aid him because it was the bloody war and every soul was worth it. “Those American had been rubbin’ their accent on ya, haven’t they?” The former war-nurse smacked his arm with a laugh, her head thrown back at his observation. Despite her exhausting agile trip, she had always found herself to be enlightened by the eldest. An electrifying thunder was zapping between Lizzie and Linda as they side-eyed the intimate reaction.

“What can you do when you’re surrounded by New Yorkers, amirite Arthur? Jeremiah,” Noting that there was short of one particular person she had hoped to meet, she raised the question she thought she wouldn’t even have to ask. Even during such a bloody time, John’s presence was always prominent and he had radiated an ambience no one ever could. Well, no one she had ever met so far. He could be a nut-head at points but he was always there for her when she needed someone. A shoulder. It was too quiet without him being in the room. “Where’s John?” The room had ebbed to silence once again. Wearing long faces that met with the floor, everyone had suddenly found the ground to be engaging.

After a few seconds which passed like an ancient and a decrepit train, Arthur amplified his voice to answer since no one had dared to reply, “He, uhm, he’s gone.” He stuttered while he fiddled with the rough pads of his fingers, knowing well the history the pair had. Tears welled up on his eyes even though he had bawled a lake-full of water not too long ago. A familiar ringing sunk into her ears as if she had been plunged into the dark abyss of water. No light shone down, terrified of what the deep beyond holds. Every frantic snap she made with her body, she was faced with the same darkness, her accompany, her watcher. The water had muffled her potency to hear, taunting her with indistinct chatter. Words she could not even make out.

“Oh.”

The rubble of fallen cylindrical death piled up like an insubstantial building as if struck by artillery. Before putting an end to the flaking red ashes, Tommy took his last puff, stabbing his cigarette into the glass ashtray. Crying out for help, it wheezed to permanent sleep, “Anyways, Y/N is here to aid us during this… turmoil,” The abrupt and direct change to business from Tommy had piqued her interest even though the bandages wrapped around her heart were draping down so loosely. Polly let out a chuckle of disbelief, gaining a warning glance from Thomas.

There was a switch in the man that flipped. However, she didn’t prod much into the point she had noticed since he had served four bloody years on the battlefield. Four torturous years of seeing blood and as for him, the narrow tunnels he had dug out for hours with crumbling dirt and sludge. “She will be assisting in the area of her expertise, firearm.”

“I will?” Y/N inquired with furrowed eyebrows. The woman who possessed dark bags under her eyes, leaned back into her chair when something seemed off-putting; her eyes watching like a hawk, so vigilant and persistent to dig deeper into the resurfacing secret. Never had Thomas mention her before, well, never did he talk about what had happened during the bloody war either. When Thomas had called her which was the only contact they had made, he had not written a letter informing her of details. She had understood his reason for not directly telling her over the telephone line; however, a scribbling of a letter would’ve allowed her to prepare to what was coming. Then after two days of the contact, Y/N had left whatever business she had in France to men she had trusted; she cruised on a boat towards her desired destination with no idea on what she was about to face. “Oh, yes, I will.”

Shoulders suddenly tensed, not at all expecting for her to be someone they had thought. Even the eldest Shelby stared at her in shock. The woman who wore the navy blue dress, that was not thriving in England, with an exquisite fashion of gold that embellished her figure, was part of a gun trading business? Although the thought died down slightly when their eyes glanced at the three men in splendid suits that came in with her, it still had shaken them to the core.

Ada elevated her eyes to find any points she could note from the woman’s appearance, noticing the fading trail of a handful of tattoos painting her skin. It was a smear of ink on her neck, although, it had only peeked out when she would shrug her shoulders. Tilting her head at her inked hand, Ada’s eyes squinted at the drawing that resembled what had cost her brother’s life. Before she could take another good view to confirm her suspicion, Y/N’s hands were then stuffed in her pocket for warmth. The Shelby made accidental eye contact with the woman she had been staring at.

An amused smirk sported on Polly’s lips as she took a sip of the warm liquid. There were many, multiple times Tommy had managed to baffle her; however, this, this was crossing his imaginary line by a great distance, “We already have enough guns.”

Tommy mumbled, not bothered to look at his aunt, “Pistols. Y/N here, have something much more... predatory.”

“Although I haven’t brought the lot of them, I’m sure my boys can handle an urgent call,” The three men stomped their way towards the table with a gesture of her finger, their gait shaking the ground like an earthquake. The hats they wore tilted to the sides, somehow still resting upon them despite it being hanging off the edge. Bulging through the material of the bag could’ve been assumed as useless sticks; however, if the straps were to be tugged open by the wrong audience, it could’ve been the cause for someone to be thrown behind bars that they would have to call home. “Got me the good batch of Rifles, Machine guns and Shotgun.”

The legs of the table shook, quivering at the abrupt weight pressed at the top of its head. Tremors vibrated through the wooden table before Y/N’s men tugged the sealed straps with such ferocity and strength. The bottle of rum danced to the beat, the liquid slammed into the container walls of the glass cup like the highest tide of the day. Flabbergasted at how the atmosphere had altered from a choking tension to amusement with a simple addition of a person, Linda could not believe it. Especially by the fact that it was a woman who had run the whole syndicate.

“Why more firearm? ‘Tis a vendetta of what? 15?” Arthur inquired.

Thomas nodded, he paced towards the table, fingers brushing over the chilly metal, “Heard that he’s involving Sabini’s men too, not just for vehicles. All he wants is his bullets to end up in us, reserved royally by the avenger himself.”

“These are my most trusted men,” Y/N uttered once Thomas threw a glance at her. Her head was held high as she watched them pluck the straps open to reveal the stack of firearms that had been stuffed in the bag. Pride torched in her body as she watched eyes glint. Nodding her head at each figure, she listed, “Gavin, Connor and Dante.”

“Italian name.” Polly blurted as her droopy eyes from the medication she had been consumed, peeked at the blare of reflection from the guns. Narrowing her eyes towards the man who backed away from the table to stand beside his boss, Polly quirked an eyebrow. The olive skin of the Italian had been painted with his raven untamed locks. The voice urged at her to keep a hairs’ breadth distance between her fingers and her gun that was tucked in the waist of her pants’. She barely knew the woman and she managed to drag an Italian into the Peaky Blinders’ meeting.

“Yes, he fell onto my plate when there were... mishaps,” Y/N declared. The man whose broad shoulders were squared intensely stared into Polly’s eyes, his head held up high as her glare did not quiver him. “He also teaches me some Italian from time to time. Although, I don’t have much time for that lately, do I?” The claimed Italian shook his head.

“You brought an Italian here,” Polly exclaimed prodding onto the point to why she was even speaking. Was Tommy calling for his death wish? “How do we know he isn’t part of that buffoon of a mafia?”

Before Y/N could even inquire her question, Tommy interjected, “Polly,” Having to see his friend being grilled alive by his aunty was not a pleasant sight that he would tolerate. Especially since this was also meant to be a business conversation; professional. Tommy sighed, “We can trust Y/N.”

“Clearly you do,” His aunt grumbled, flicking her cigarette case with a clash before lighting it up with haste as if the longer she thought about this ridiculous plan, the more ludicrous it will be. Although the time went passed by at an antagonizing pace, Polly would have rather have to go through with Tommy’s past, foolish acts, rather than watching him place all his trust onto a sole woman. “He could be passing information back to him.”

“Polly, that’s enough,” Tommy instructed with slight superiority in his voice. Polly glared at her nephew before smoke eased her mind. “I’ve heard words flying about that they have made a deal with Sabini, we must stay alert. Finn, go show the men their lodge, the building I had pointed out today while passing and Y/N’s also. I’ll send someone to check the guns, tomorrow, midday.”

Finn’s eyes widened at the job he had been assigned to, glancing at Isaiah who shrugged his head with a faint smirk that he would always wear. This was his chance to prove to Tommy that he was worthy of becoming a Peaky Blinder; that he was ready as a soldier ready to be deployed.

“Isaiah, you tag on.”

“Tommy, it’s not a fucking field trip,” Before Tommy could justify to why sending Isiah was a good idea, she had cut him off. “No, I swear to God, if I see a Peaky behind me I’ll use him as a shooting target. Plus, put a little trust on your brother, won’t ya?” Noticing the peculiar glances thrown between Arthur and a blonde lady, Y/N spoke up as she lit a cig. “What? Oh, the God part. Yeah, would’ve believed in him if it wasn’t for the war.”

Linda clenched her jaw at the insolent woman who had used the name in vain. Tommy took a second of pondering, before nodding reluctantly. Was it a good idea? However, he believed with the presence of the three, clearly strong men she had brought, she was safe. A catastrophic debate was set off in his head, questioning if he should risk sending a car to follow them. He signalled his head towards the three exposed bags. Isaiah paced towards the bag, strapping it to a close, ready to be handed back to its owner, “Oh, keep it here, my storage is full at the moment.”

Y/N stared at the bags as it was being strapped, a faint and faded voice whispered with an ever so lightly volume to take one for safety even though a pair of frigid metal were tucked safely in her coat. The voice had warned her of a premonition that reeked of imminent disaster where her two pistols were of no use, “Although, I’ll take this one.” Grabbing the straps on one of the bags containing the sole rifle, she slung it across her shoulder. Without a word, he bopped his head as a silent order towards the two men to proceed with the command.

Finn shot up with the idea that he would take the bag off of Y/N’s shoulder, to only tower over her figure with his lanky height. No words fell from his mouth when the task was simple: Be a gentleman. Finn’s lips wavered, opening and shutting as if he had something to say. Suddenly, his ability to construct a sentence had been hurled out of the window. The only female Shelby couldn’t hold back her amused chuckle at Finn’s lack of ability and practice on the opposite gender. Finn gazed into her eyes, Y/N’s eyebrows clashed into one another, furrowing in impeccable confusion to why he was acting so peculiar.

“We keep this at Charlie’s yard, yeah?” Since Johnny picked up the bag containing a whole load of shotguns, it had caused his shoulder to slump down from the hefty weight. Isaiah with his own set of weight quirked an eyebrow. Getting a simple nod from Tommy, the two men left the room. When the youngest had already dashed towards the door with pink cheeks from embarrassment, Tommy called, halting the boy’s huge strides, “Finn.”

With his great reflexes the flying car key that hovered from one side of the room to the other, fell into the palms of his hands. Finn stared at it with awe, a twinkle in his eyes of amazement and disbelief. It was not always every day when Tommy would hand his keys to the 18-year-old boy. The opportunity for him to drive a car felt exciting, especially when the key to it is in his hands, “You take care of the car or else you won’t be seeing the sun tomorrow.”

The sun yawed, exhausted at the tiring task it would do every day- repeatedly without a stop, unless, it was the end. The ball of flames crawled down; pleading help from his friend once more. Painted with streaks and lines of red, the sun had spread its largess across the warming yellow sky. A call to those who stood awake.

“So you sell guns?” It had been slightly intimidating with three men sitting at the back who if they were to protect the woman, they must’ve committed nasty work. Every so often, Finn would remember that they had snatched the straps with such strength that he began to ponder whose blood had been spilt on their hands, supported by the fact that they work with firearms. It was to the point Finn had to loosen his tie, sweat clamouring on his chest.

It was when Y/N had ordered for the direction to change to a new route, the youngest Shelby didn’t bother to prod. So he had done as he was told, however, it was only the three men that had gotten off the vehicle. Although it wasn’t his ill-intention, he had eavesdropped on the exchanged words between the boss and the daunting men. It was something along the lines of making calls and warehouses. Finally, Finn was left alone with the woman sitting by his side. Once the newly man had cleared his throat, he decided to pick up a conversation with the woman; not liking the present of a heavily-pregnant, awkward silence. No communication happened between the pair despite them sitting next to each other for nearly an hour as the sun had set. The only noise that made way to play a melody was the rough drumming of the engine, unnecessary bumps and screaming from the civilians who had not cared for their rest.

“I do, yeah,” Y/N let out a chuckle at his obvious question, Finn nodded. Tapping the steering wheel to an asynchronous rhythm, he tried his best to eliminate the idea of making a slight mistake. Not will it only cause an ending to his life by his older brother, it would cost Y/N’s also. With the sudden thought that popped in his head, his palms were drowning in sweat. Not a good idea. “You in the Peaky Blinders?”

Although it might’ve been a stupid question since he had worn the signature cap, Y/N had to flow with the questions thrown back and forth; not liking the silence between them. A hum was muffled by his throat, “I am,” A huff came from the engine as the vehicle entered a path where the roadwork was not so great and smooth. “So, were you a nurse when you were in the war? Not assuming that you could’ve been anything, of course, working in the war offices for example or a cooker. I just thought you were a nurse because that was pretty common.”

Darkness cast over the vehicle as a gigantic red-bricked house shielded the car from the blaring moonlight. A chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips when Finn had finished his rambling, turning her body towards the boy whose face was splashed with red paint; she found it adorable, “I was in fact, a nurse. You guessed correctly.”

“Medals?” If it wasn’t for Thomas’s words about wounding the car, Finn would’ve glanced at the woman, which was a horrible idea because his face was crimson from already displaying all his red pumping and running veins.

“Turned them to these.” Blaring into his eye were sparkles like that of a smear of twinkling stars, iridescent gold shimmers stirred in the gems, despite it being a golden ring, the gem still captured his eyes with its dark brown backdrop.

An awkward silence filled the ambience once again.

The inquiry played against Finn’s ears, “What exactly is the issue you all are currently facing that made Tommy call me?” There were a hundred of ways he could answer her, maybe structure it so she would be satisfied. However, he was made clear by no other than Tommy that it be he who would do the elaboration over the plan with her.

“Tommy said he’ll talk to you about it, didn’t want me to mess something up.” The lady who was twice his age chuckled, shaking her head at the older brother’s actions.

“Typical Tommy, always hogging the queen piece to himself.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

“You seem close to my brothers,” The chestnut-haired boy stated an obvious inspection. “When you heard that John died, you looked devastated.”

“A blunt observation said as a statement without holding back.” Y/N quirked her eyebrows, tilting her head in slight amusement. Trying her best to not chuckle at the blushing boy, “Have they taught you no manners, boy?” Y/N liked that her words had brought up such a reaction. Something she had never witnessed. Most likely because she had always been with men. Tinting his cheeks with a darker splash of red, she could see that we were trying not to take a peek at her.

“I’m not a boy,” Finn gritted his teeth, the clench in his jaw could’ve snapped his teeth into fragments of mints. “I’m a man. I’m a Shelby, I don’t need manners.”

Y/N’s eyes blinked at his response, “Even the serpents of politicians have some manners, what would that make you?”

Heavy breathing fell from his nostrils, his clench on the steering wheel tightened as he felt himself being belittled. Never had he been treated like this, if his now-deceased brother was excluded, especially from a female.

Noticing the air had gone still, Y/N mumbled, turning her attention to her window on her side, “You know, Tommy had saved my life during the war,” She stated, her eyes watched as the boats danced over the gentle crashing of waves on the canal before they had entered another route. “I’m practically in debt to him.” Even though she knew she was possibly going to be off the line, her mouth had not halted. “Tell me, Finn, you wear that hat like a tiara. Are your cuts and scars hidden?”

It seemed Y/N had hit a soft spot, “Are all your bags at the place?” Finn pursed his lips, teeth clawing back as he tried his best to not unleash what he wanted to hurl back at her.

Y/N hummed, “I did not only bring three of my men you know? With this line of work, I must be out of my mind to do such a thing.”

Before Finn could agree with her factual statement, an exhausted huff came from the back of the car. The speed that it once sprinted through declined, halting the vehicle to the side of the road, underneath the shadow of a building. Glowing down with faint rays of light, the moon’s spotlight had only glistened over the road. Flickers from the street lamp was a battle cry, an indication that war was striding over.

Finn scowled at the inconvenient breakdown. Already irritated, his hands rested over the heavy door, ready to grab a can of petrol to feed the starving car.

“Don’t!” Tugging his collar down to slam his back into the cushion of the seats with her hovering over him, a familiarized sound Y/N had gotten used to, had swept through the air before grazing the glass. Two cracks banged through the empty street. A chorus of shatters sprinkled the floor as a decoration. Shattering into a million prickling fragments, the flooring of the car was now like a bed of snow made up of pins. Finn laid under her with a gaped opened mouth, breathing heavily when his ability to breathe was restricted for a short second.

He gritted his teeth, the infant glass shards caressed his face. The claws dug into his skin before diving down, his face like a mountain as their blades provide a safe landing like an ice axe. Never was it a good idea to take a peek at your enemies who had been targeting you with a rifle; however, Y/N had only taken a glimpse before they decided to brush their finger against the trigger. The car that had suspiciously rested in the corner of the building with men in impeccable suits and a homburg hat was the only thing Y/N needed to know what was to follow.

“We’re being ambushed.” The woman declared, stating the obvious. Blood sprinted down her body, her heart strenuously pumping to supply. Her eyes widened as the adrenaline rushed through her body.

A string of thoughts ran through Y/N’s head. Then, it all clicked together like a flawless combination for a gun. Rummaging her fingers through her lanky coat, she pulled out what looked like a cigarette case. Finn gazed at her object before darting it towards her as if she had gone mental. She flicked it open with ease despite the dripping sweat that painted her hands, to reveal the reflecting mirror. Without a conscious thought, she shifted to find a better angle. There. Once her mirror had spotted the prominent shadow figures, their hats peaking in the air as if a shooting target, she let out a light chuckle. As light adjusted, the corners of her lips curled down when her eyes grazed over the machine gun they had dragged out, throwing it on the hood of the car. However, it seemed they had been watching through the scope the entire time as another sole bullet swished to fracture the now dead street lamp. The light dimmed down. Standing under the shadow provided by the blocky building, Thomas’s car was hidden away from the spotlight.

Finn’s shoulders tensed as the shatter of glass echoed through his ears once again. The terrible music would drive him to insanity. Even though he was in a tight situation, he couldn’t help but think about what Tommy would’ve thought about the minuscule yet probably visible scratches from the glass shards. Not to mention the vehicle that would need heavy repairing. He was dead meat. Not to forget that he was the one who decided to take a shortcut towards her lodge- the shorter route with horrible scenery. What a way to show an outsider Birmingham.

“Listen to me, Finn, alright?” The younger boy gazed into her eyes, his mind deteriorated as Y/N hovered over his body upside-down, with an inch of distance between them. Strands of her swirly hair kissed his skin, tickling it with slight grazing. Her eyes were captivating, enchanting him into a place he had never been to; a place he wished to stay forever. Realizing he had not answered her question while he was lost in his thoughts, he nodded with a gulp. “Good, I need you to stay low,” With her superior voice, she commanded the young boy, shivers crawled up his spine as his mind travels to other words she could utter. “Don’t get out, stay here and raise the bag when I tell you to. You understand?”

Her breathing and voice breezed over his face, casting a spell on him just like the white powder he would sniff to ease his mind, “Yes, I mean yes.” Noticing that the pitch of his voice was a bit too high, he cleared his throat, lowering it deeper. Before he could process her words, he had given in to an order he didn’t like. What was he supposed to do? Actually, stand down? He’s a Shelby for fuck's sake. Although cheering in his head agreed with the idea, the cuts on his face played a taunting game. With ever slight contraction of his face’s muscle, his skin tore apart wider. But what was he thinking? He had never been in a situation like this. If he was, his brothers would be the one to step in front.

With minimal movements and sounds, Y/N reached the handle, cranking it down. Shutting her lips and eyes as she opened the door, a faint begging in her head hoped that a sound would not be produced. Much to her dismay, a creak resounded from the rubbing of metal. The silence was too good to be true, the promise it uttered was broken. A series of banging boomed even though they could barely see anything. Embellishing the black car, bullets whirled through the metal to pierce the back seat.

As cotton was thrust up into the air, Finn curled into a ball, hands against his ear. Indistinct chatter from the corner of the building was followed by fusses. Like running a wooden stick against an odd, wavy metal sheet, the loud noise they made as they had reloaded the machine gun for another round of massacre echoed through the still air.

If they had been slightly more precise or weighed with more luck at a random shot, they could’ve already put Y/N in a vulnerable state. A scowl sported on Y/N’s lips, men like them have been given a horrible plan. Sure it might be a good thing for her since she is currently being targeted, victory should never be celebrated until the deed is over. Even though they might get a good shot from the bottom of the vehicle, it seemed their scrawny little brains were only present for a lazy kill. To bring two heads on silver plates, served to the King which should be more challenging than this.

Tommy’s car was not too far away from the wall of a building with Y/N’s side of the car facing the wall. An advantage for her to sneak out of the vehicle. Also benefitting from the shadow that cast over the car, the rays of light shone upon the opposite side as if they stood under a spotlight, giving her a better chance at an angle she could work with.

Landing on the floor with gentle movements like a cat, she crouched down before opening the back door. Finn, who had already twirled to his stomach, watched as she successfully dragged the bag from the back seat, “Y/N,” He whispered, calling out her name as if a lost child to his mother. She snapped her head to face him. “I can’t just wait here while you out there.”

Nearly moved by his thoughtfulness, she stared at him blankly before realizing a fault, “Ah, right,” A twinkle sparked on Finn’s face when it seemed she had given him the chance to participate. However, it diminished when she had tugged her coat to reveal her silky shirtwaist, to only pull out a pistol from her shoulder holster. It then made home on his palm; before he could tug it out of her hand, she stared dead-centre in his eyes. “Remember, don’t even try to look at them. Tommy will hang me if anything was to happen to you.”

Even though he was disappointed he had been treated like a mere child who was being watched by his brother’s friend, he nodded in understanding. Shivers crawled up his spine once again as the tone of her voice brushed against his back with frigid touches.

Strapping the bags open, the scent of leather filled her lungs with a tinge of metal lingering on her tongue. The rifle was lodged on her lap. Thrusting the safety lock back into the bag, a clash banged onto the stone pavement. Thankfully, it was overlapped by an abrupt commotion at the end of the block.

“Finn, take this,” Handing the leather bag to the young man, she watched as he pulled it into the vehicle. “On my signal.”

Like a duck, Y/N waddled towards the back tire. Her golden compact mirror in her left hand while her rifle in the other, she positioned the mirror to see the two individuals under the moonlight. They stood behind the hood of the car with a machine rifle propped on a tripod, the dagger-like ends pierced into their vehicle.

“Now.” As soon as the order was given, Finn, who had rested on his back, raised the slightly flimsy bag into the air. The men who waited for any sign of movement or life caressed the trigger without any hesitation. A long chain of bullets commenced an open fire. If the bag was a creature, it would’ve been murdered with the third bullet which flew through its heart. Not caring to why the shadow had not yet slumped into the seat, their guns continued to ring through her ears. Y/N hovered her finger over her trigger as she angled the scope to her desired spot. Finn’s breathing became heavy as the bullets rammed through the material as if it wasn’t even there. He hadn’t heard a crack from hers yet. Before he had the chance to call out her name as if to wake her up from her dream. A clap echoed through the road.

Bouncing off her rifle, the bullet sprung into the still air like rice on a drum. Twirling like a prestigious ballerina, its toes peaked below, thrusting its heavy body ever so slightly. A heavy thud echoed through the dark alley. The motionless body rested onto the ground with a gushing volcano between his eyes.

Indistinct clutter bounced off the walls. The other man who had watched his accompany fall onto the frigid ground grasped the pistol grip. Y/N’s body snapped to lean against the tire, the rifle rests on her chest as the ballistic man intensely pulled on the trigger. In her head, she was on her knees as she could not risk shifting back into the car for safety. Even a millisecond without the protection of the tires, she was exposed to the gunfire. A wince fell off her lips as a clash of bullet met with the ground before reflecting to ting with the brick wall.

For Finn, it felt like hours; however, the boy had not experienced the bloody rain of war. Before she knew it, the raining of furious bullets had halted. A groan of irritation echoed from the corner of the building. The gun must’ve overheated. Peeking over her shoulder to take a rapid glance at the corner, the man had disappeared. Without a second thought, she grasped the ball grip before flicking it shut, reloading the ammo. Squinting her eyes, she hovered her scope over the tires. Another clap resounded off the walls. A cry burst from the tire that had begun to sink the balance of the car onto the ground. There was no angle she could shoot the man if she hadn’t moved from her position, hasty stomping faded away from the scene.

“Fuck.” Y/N uttered under her breath before she made a sprint towards the running body, her fingers wrapped around the other pistol in her holster. The rifle she had used was thrown to clash against the floor.

Noticing the haunting silence, Finn made a silent prayer before he sat on prickling seat. Through the smashed glass, the dagger-like ends met to a point for him to see the woman running away from the car, “Y/N!” Finn yelled at the top of his lungs, not caring that he might’ve had a bullet targeted on him.

“No! You stay there!” She ordered before running over the bridge that curved over the canal. Leaning against the wall of the building, she took a peek at the gun that sat on the hood of their Model T. When entering the firearm business, an eye that twinkled with gold could read the gun as if it was a person. And read the gun she did. It was a Benét-Mercié. A French design. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took a glance at the man she had murdered.

His eyes stared into the moonlight, the art she had indented between his eyes was a masterpiece. She had been around and fraternize enough men to note that he was an Italian. She had hopped around with a fair few amount of Italians to reassure her assumption. Although the machine rifle they had used was the gun utilized in the war, it had left her perplexed. Even though the location of her business was in free land America and she had a twinge of experience with the machinery, she could not comprehend to how they had gotten a French gun. Overall, what was an Italian doing with a French gun?

A groan from the narrow alley trickled into her ears, remembering that there was another one to complete the pair. Y/N sauntered with light steps as if a predator had finally spotted its meal for the day. Hasting towards the man, Y/N heard a curse uttered under his breath. Tugging out his hair in frustration, his hairs swirled around his fingers like a whip. His neck nearly snapped as he looked at the peak of the wall, separating him from his ability to escape the madness he had entered.

Finally noting her presence, he turned around to face her. The dread overflowed his eyes as he glanced at the corpse of his accompany. She narrowed her eyes as he pushed himself into a damp corner, cowering away from her. It was as if he was shrinking, a prey to her. To a woman?

“Who sent you?”

For a few seconds, his staggering breathing was the snaring to the incredibly busy road. However, his hands moved swiftly to grab the pistol he had safely tucker in his holster. Y/N’s fingers moved faster. Another press to the trigger and a bullet made home in his arm. An agonizing yell roared through the alley, a pair of legs did not hesitate to start running towards the direction she had sprinted to. The hole in his sleeves made a garnish to his plain suit, the red staining like wine. Red, ancient wine. Kicking the pistol out of his grip, Y/N held her gun’s on his head. Sweat swam down his face as his body made place on the floor. He clutched his hand, squeezing the gushing wound. It was burning like a blister had been rubbed over.

Making her way towards the wounded man, she harshly tugged on his hair, “I said, who sent you?”

He quivered as the cold kiss of her gun pressed on his temple, a battle of whether he should answer her or not was thrown out of the window once he realized he was standing over a string between life and death. Except, he had never seen her ever before. A pathetic yet desperate thought made to his non-existent head. There was hope that this woman was of no power, just another whore to the Shelby’s. Even though he had just witnessed his accompany fall onto the floor with a hole between his eyes, he had tried his hardest to lie to himself that it was all that young Shelby’s doing. In no way was he about to give in, “Sabini! Darby Sabini!”

However, it seemed his tongue had slipped the wine glass onto the floor. A bullet submerged into his skull, snapping his bones into fragments as a burst of blood splashed onto her face, “Y/N.” A gentle voice called her from the entrance of the alley. The woman who had been in the business for several years had to the gentle tone in her life. Unfortunately, it was only resounded by people who had fork-like tongues. Serpents.

This time, it was like a caress against her arm with care as if she was fragile glass. Nothing she had heard of, “Finn.” The young boy stared at her with wide eyes, the gun he held in his hand was clearly of no use anymore. Like an unnecessary amount of jewellery worn on women’s whose husbands danced with the devil, the beads of blood dotted against her skin. Finn glanced at the slumped body. There was only white in his ajar opened eyes, the colour that usually adds an indication of identity had rolled up towards his brain.

Finn liked to believe it was an instinct because he had one older sister; although, a part of his heart opposed to agreeing with the belief. The boy dashed towards the woman, gripping her arms with a slight tug; not too much force to hurt her, “Are you alright?” Turning her left and right to check for any wounds, he was relieved when there was no hole to indicate a bullet had plunged into her.

“I’m quite alright, just a little parched.” Finn chuckled at her sudden appearance of amusement despite her being covered in blood. It must’ve been her careless head to forget the merciless weather Britain possessed, her frigid, shivering hand, made way to rest on his face. Like accidentally electrifying oneself, the boy jumped at the freezing contact.

She tugged her hand away once she had noted the slight tick from his muscle, it was probably uncomfortable on him. Grabbing the two frozen hands into his own, the size of his hands had practically covered hers in one go. Rubbing his gloved thumbs in circles on her exposed palm, he looked down at her to gaze into her eyes. His height towered over her, “You didn’t bring gloves.”

“I noticed,” She mumbled. There was an unexplained glance at his lips. He did too. Without a word, Finn removed one of his hands from hers, leaving the other to warm her up. He tugged out his handkerchief from his jacket’s pocket to wipe the crimson red from her face. Although he had tried his best to not get pulled into her eyes or lips, he had lost. In the midst of wiping the droplets that rested on the corners of her lips, he could not move a muscle.

There were roars in his gut that he couldn’t help but to notice their protest to crawl out of his stomach and to shove him onto her. Although he had pulled himself out from the incredibly enchanting place, she had walked away towards the slumping corpse before he had the chance to proceed. Disappointment engulfed him. The dancing handkerchief tangled with the chilly wind, the white cloth had been stained like a spill. It quivered in the air like a surrender flag, a reminder to him that it was her who walked away, leaving him alone with the fabric he had brushed her skin with. “You know these men?”

“Looks Italian to me.”

“Said Sabini sent them.” Y/N glanced to face his reaction.

“Well then, aren’t they fucked.”

Ringing resounded off the walls of Tommy’s room. Seconds ago, it was tranquil with the indistinct sleep-talking by the clock. Now, all he could see was red. The darkness that confined and comforted him during the night glistened with the light rays from the radiating moon. Glueing his eyes onto the white ceiling, he waited patiently for the noise to stop so he could claim the rare times he would be able to sleep. Even though the air was suited freezing to his content, his seething anger for the attention-calling object warmed the covers for him. The sheets were no longer comfortable. Running his clammy hand down his face, there was always something stopping him from achieving what his heart desired; although, he just wanted a snooze because he had started to notice that he had looked mental (comments by nearly everyone who had the courage to, seeped through his day). Irritation coated his tongue. Bitterness hopped around his mouth when he realized that there were some fortunate people out there who were fast asleep. Then, there was him. A groan left his lips as he had finally been pushed to the edge.

When the hope of silence had not been met, Thomas hurled the blanket off his body. A flood of haphazardly thrown pillows that covered with his comforter caused annoyance to tug onto his ears. His patience had slacked down with a blink of his eyes. Narrowing his eyes onto the obstructive machine, the corners of his eyes were blurry with fuming anger. Almost yanking the telephone with his immense strength, the machine palpitated on the wooden table, swaying left and right like a dancer. Who could blame him? Someone had just disrupted his sleep.

“What?” Tommy sneered with murder dripping from his mouth. His tense grip on the phone could snap the metal in half. Although he wouldn’t usually pick up the telephone with such anger since the line of his work is practically embedded into him, this night, his thoughts were chugging faster than he could swallow down a pint of beer. His head was restless.

The stress in his eyebrows evaporated once a familiar silvery voice echoed through his ears, “Tommy, we’ve been ambushed. Two men.” Even though his grasp onto the metal remained with a constant force, the heat he had concocted sprung into the air once he had realized he could’ve lost two people within a night. His immunity to the frigid floor deteriorated, the floor pierced kisses as if it were incessant stabbing into the numb soles of his feet.

“Whose men was it?” The clock on the wall of his house groaned, its arms dancing in coordination as it watched the man’s ears fume with anger like a furious train once a familiar name fell off his little brother’s lips.

“Sabini.”

A breathy exhale sunk into the phone, Tommy’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to digest the situation. The rumours were true, yet, he sent his guests off without any protection on his side. How could he assume that her three men were enough? He should’ve let someone trail after them, despite her objections. There was already an overflowing amount of issues thrown onto his plate, “Where are you now?”

“Y/N’s lodge. Said that it’d be safer for me to stay at hers for the night.” Finn twirled the wire of the telephone, the door of the bathroom had been closed for a while.

Tommy hummed in agreement. The late timing of the day restricted his ability to construct words, especially with the fact that another meat had been thrust onto his plate. An exhausted exhale muffled the other side of the line, “Well, she’s right. If those men do not crawl back to Sabini with your head, they will double everything up. I’m sorry to say this Finn, but you’ll have to spend the night there,”

An indistinct mumble escaped Finn’s lips. Before the boy could place the phone back to where it resided, his brother spoke up once again, “Where’d you sent them off to?”

Without any additional word to the vague question, Finn answered with the assumption that there was someone who dared to listen to their conversation, as always, “Y/N had her men come in, showed them the canal.”

“The car?”

“No opened garage, so they made one open up.” A creak from a door trickled onto Tommy’s ears from Finn’s line.

“I should have sent Isaiah to drive her home.” Before Finn had the chance to react, his gaze flicked towards Y/N. Although it was inappropriate for him to let his gaze linger on her, he couldn’t help but stare at awe. The golden edges of the dress-robe enchanted the translucent material that draped over her shoulders. A faded feminine voice in the distant mumbled incoherently to Tommy’s ears. The man could only make up some words, stitching them in a sentence before the voice was slightly more pronounced.

“Finn, go clean yourself up, I’ll clean those wounds in a second.” A minute of silence passed. Finn let out a hum once she quirked an eyebrow at him for his confirmation. It was a wonder to how easily she had him with a glance. His eyes followed the woman’s figure before she disappeared into the sliding door of her room.

“Wounds?”

“Nothing serious, just cuts.” Deep down, Finn knew it would not be a simple task to remove the tedious glass shards that penetrated his face. A part of him shook its head, not agreeing with the idea that it would be painless.

“I’ll call you tomorrow morning.” The call then ended. A shiver tremored through Thomas as he finally realized how chilly his room was. His feet paced faster before he threw himself onto the bed. Within a tug, all the items that scattered over the floor sat back to where it resided. Although the comforter was as soft as he could remember by his late wife’s choice, soft would not be the one to comfort his restless head while two significant people of his life had just been ambushed. Not a wink of sleep decided to greet him.

Staring down at the bustling street even though the moon had made a clear appearance in the night, men had women around their arms as they stumbled down the road. A half tipsy smile was worn on their faces. Y/N watched the lively road, trails of cars and strings of people occupied the area. As she leaned against the window with her arms crossed, she pondered over the saddening news that had cracked over her head like a spoiled egg. There was regret in her chest that roared actively without rest for years- screeching at her to make the simple contact. Now, she could give herself in as she had not landed her ears onto the thought. Despite the day ageing old, the city never sleeps. Oh, how she wished she could see him for the last time.

Coating her tongue was the ancient red of champagne. Swirling the cup after every dashing thought that sprinted across her head, her attention had reverted towards the day that didn’t seem to want to find an end. A creak of a door echoed through her ears. Pulling her eyes away from the mesmerizing street, she was met with a freshly showered Finn.

Since he had been forced to stay down and not participate in the killing, there was no spill of blood on his suit. It was ideal because the woman did not want to pressurize another shop to open for her to only end up doing a shopping spree. However, it was not the same case for Y/N as her outfit had been splattered with red. So, she wore the other silky shirtwaist she had brought from her recent trip to France

“Hope you don’t mind me using that soap.” The boy mumbled. Thrown over his arm to dangle like a swing was his patterned, green tie, resting above layers of his other clothing that he had decided was not of use to wear. Left in his white shirt and his olive green suit-pants, he scratched the crook of his neck as he wore a sheepish smile at the poor decision he had made. What could he have done? It was the only available option.

“Absurdly not,” Y/N uttered. As her eyes lingered longer than it should’ve been, she gestured towards the abundant of couches for him to rest on. “Come on, take a seat, I’ll get the stuff.”

Finn rested the clothing on the head of the couch, eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she had hastily placed the cup onto the coffee table before dashing away into her room. He plopped down onto the couch that was richer than the liquid resting in Y/N’s cup. His hands sat on his thighs as he watched her disappear into her bedroom.

“So, uh, Ms Stein,” Like those pesky squirrels that would dominate the trees in New York with an acorn attached to their hands, the woman rummaged through her bedroom as if she was to find a treasure. Her fingers dug deep in the bag, hands grabbing onto objects that might have possessed the shape of the items she had visualized in her head. As her hand had brushed against a paper-like box, she was quick to yank it out of the bag. “You married?”

The absence of response had caused the peaks of Finn’s ears to tint red at his pathetic question. Who was he to question her? They were barely even friends. Heck, he had just met her. But she did save him, does that mean something? Peeking her head out from the bedroom with the item in her hand, she narrowed her eyes.

“You see this?” Holding her hand up in the air, she twirled her hand around to show the boy her empty fingers, all her rings had been removed. She thrust the flimsy item onto the glass coffee table, a faint noise resounded by the minuscule object. Entering her room once again, her arms plunged in the massive leather bag to find the next item in her imaginary list. “I would’ve probably been at Rome maybe if that dirtbag had not cheated. Happily married,” Y/N let out an amused chuckle at the absurd thought. ”What a joke.”

“Oh.” Finn mumbled under his breath after realizing he had thrown himself into a hole he could not climb out off. If she had been in the war with Tommy, of course, she had at least been married once. What was he thinking? The air was heavily poured with furious yelling from the road and Y/N’s struggle to get the desired items out.

“Also, call me Y/N, we’re friends now right?” Finn hummed in agreement as he gawked at the abundant amount of medical items bundled up in her arm. Shock overflowed in him when he realized she had brought all of this in her bag.

“Had you brought all of this? Is it a nurse instinct?” A chuckle echoed from the room, causing a smile to plaster on Finn’s face when he had achieved what he had in mind. A sparkle blared into his eyes when the shiny metal reflected the light rays to him. Beaming his eyes at the off-putting objects, Finn had suddenly become nervous, “Why did you tell me to head to bath first? Wouldn’t it be better if you had removed these first?” His fingers hovered over the glass that embedded his face, decorating his skin like jewels on a mistress’s extravagant dress.

Noticing that his feet could not rest on the ground as his legs bounced incessantly, Y/N held back a laugh, “Needed a clean surface,” She kneeled next to the coffee table and widened her arms, the items clashing with the tables- letting out a horribly written tune. “We wouldn’t want to risk with infections now, do we?”

It was that tone again, he had hated it deeply but all he could do was swallow it before it would climb out of his throat to only be splattered across her face. Finn nodded, oh boy, was he in for a ride.

Finn sat on the couch with his fingers digging deep in his knees as the frigid tweezers plucked out the daunting pieces of glass. He sat on the couch with his white shirt on, his suit hung up on the coat rack. The blaring air conditioner caused shivers to crawl up his spine; however, thanks to the glass being plucked out of his skin, his body had created enough warmth to heat him up like a fireplace. Iron coated his tongue as his teeth sunk deep into the muscle. Although he had expected about only half a dozen worth of glass shards, it seemed it had beat his expectations to ruin.

“Ow!” He let out the familiar wince. Gritting his teeth so harshly, it was enough for it to wear off like brittle bricks. Despite his luck on trying to concoct a more painful site on his legs by pinching it, his mind always redirected to the obnoxiously close distance between his scarred face and her hands. It was chilly like the night’s wind not too long ago when they were in the ominous alleyway. However, in the comfort of her hotel, it was warm and cosy. Every so often, the metal of the equipment would kiss him, tugging out the embedded fragments. Due to the close proximity, Finn could not help but sniff out the silky scent of lavender. He wasn’t too sure if it was from him but it had comforted him through the excruciating pain.

Y/N huffed at his incessant amount of wincing. She could not believe he had not yet tolerated the pain despite having to pull out a couple already, “Stay still, won’t you?”

The tweezers that rested in her fingers rested over his shoulder. Every time she had gone anywhere close to his face with the equipment, he would flinch away- a repeated task she would have to repeat by shifting closer to him. She rolled her eyes once he had moved a couple of inches away from her.

“How can I? It bloody hurts.” Finn scoffed, his hands pinched his leg as he tried his best not to touch his face that was still home to a couple of glass shards.

“I swear if you move again.” Y/N declared, her hands ready to remove another fragment from his face.

With another yank of her tweezer, he let out the wince before shifting away. If he had repeated this at least three more times, he would meet the ground as it was the edge of the seat. Frustrated at his actions, her hand landed on his thigh, a bit too close to his liking as her leg was thrown over his so she could ground him on one place. Now practically shoulder to shoulder, Y/N gently rested her hand on his chin. His eyes that gawked at her actions were forcefully beaming at the other side of the room as she restricted his movements, “I told you. If you move, I’ll make a scar on your face and it will not be a good mark for that future girl.”

Before he knew it, she was once again, pulling out another shard. This time, it was different. Her hand made place on the side of his unwounded jaw, making sure he had not flinched. It was like a breezy kiss of a windy day in Birmingham, the scent of the lavender flower swirled through his nostrils. A distraction at the incredibly close interaction. However, before she could pluck out another piece, he pursed his lip. A slip of a giggle rung into the air.

“What’re you laughing at? You big dork, stay still.” Finn mumbled an apology. Trying his best to transform into a serious man, Finn’s back shot straight up. Y/N pulled away, an irritated reaction wore on her face as he had just made her multiply her effort due to his height. It was better when he had his shoulder hunched forward, giving her an easier access to his unfortunate face. He noticed this and pressed his lips shut, attempting to not allow a laugh seep through the cracks of his lips. If it wasn’t for Y/N’s agile pull, she would’ve costed real damage.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing.” Finn gave up, a few beads of tears fell down the side of his face as he began to go insane.

“You’ve gone mental,” The pair chuckle as Y/N clamped onto a rather large piece. Pondering if it was because he had laughed at nothing, which might’ve worn her patience off, the extraction of the massive glass compared to the rest was slightly more painful. When he had let out the annoying wince, she had let out a huff. “Don’t be such a baby, it’s just a pinch.”

His flickering eyes snapped towards her, “I am not a baby.”

“And I’m not a woman.”

“Plus, I think your nurse hands are getting rusty after those years.” With his eyes shut tight, he waited for her to inflict damage from his insult. The tweezers stood a hair’s breadth away from his skin. In an agonizing pace, he opened his eyes to look at her reaction. She stared at him with mouth gaped wide open in disbelief. She could not believe he had just insulted her fine work.

“Hey!” She smacked his arm, Finn let out a laugh to cover the pain. His fingers worked deep to massage the area of tremoring pain. “Fine, you do this by yourself, then.”

Hurling the tweezers onto his palm, she shot up from the couch to walk away. A part of her wanted him to try to clean himself up as she would wander around the room aimlessly. She wanted to hear him whine like the little boy he is. With his length fingers, it curled around her wrist in one go. The warm contact sparked the fire before she was tugged to land on his lap. With a huff, she stared at him with eyes of an owl. Once she realized how incredibly close the distance between them was, she resisted. Trying to tug away from his intense grip, keyword- trying, his grasp held a strong force to keep her in place but not too immense to kiss bruises on her skin. The racing of her heart pumping sang a song in her ears. The sudden close proximity had left in her in a state of shock. How does she respond?

“I won’t be able to do it,” Finn mumbled, his arms resting on her lap before it slithered around her waist. “You do it.” His fingers bloomed open, the kissing of the chilly metal was heated with the warm air. In an antagonizing slow pace, Finn took his time to curl open her fingers so he could squeeze in the tweezer in her grip. Leaning back into the couch, he clenched his jaw before readying himself to go through the torture once again.

Part 2 | Part 3

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