Chapter Text
It all began with a distinct jolly tune.
"Son of a-"
“In the name of the father, the son, the Holy Spirit.” You heard a strong voice call.
“Amen.” A group of people answered in unison.
Trailing your wide eyes down, you were bundled up in layers of red robes and stockings.
Priest robes and stockings. A prominent, golden cross was stitched at the chest.
You couldn’t possibly be still stuck in a dream?
Yet the feeling of your makeshift pillow beneath your finger tips, composed of two dresses and the numbing cool timber floor under your backside was not the ideal dream or reality.
You could not exactly step out from the organ in the middle of the mass. Nor could you walk around as bumbling, clueless priest. A female one at that.
Pulling out one of the dresses that you had used as a pillow, you figured that it would be a wise decision to get changed and wait for the mass to be over.
Otherwise…you would most likely be charged with sacrilege.
By the time the mass ended, you had annihilated a packet of ‘eucharists’ that you ‘borrowed’ from the night before. They were almost like crisps or chips. They were thin and round, only it tasted like paper.
After tying the leather laces of your ‘borrowed’ boots and fixing up your charity-given dress, you sucked in your stomach and somehow squeezed through the gap of the organ and wall.
The church looked quite beautiful in day light. The high wooden arches and gorgeous art works that painted the ceilings were breathtaking.
Except they scared the living shit out of you last night every time a candle flickered on the faces of religious icons.
One saint’s calm face and warm brown eyes looked like a ghastly, shadowed entity that stared at you from every corner of the church.
The massive crucifix with a bloody Jesus stared at you forebodingly last night and you swore it moved.
You never felt so cold and alone anymore with all these religious icons and the candle flickering shadows over their faces that made them look positively demonic.
Along with random, hollow bangs and creaks that seemed to occur.
You could have sworn that the place was haunted.
Yet, it all looked so comforting and warm in the day light.
The grinning devils from hell that teased you from the ceilings were instead giggling cherubs swinging from clouds. They even seemed to wink at you.
Shaking your head, you let out a sigh with a grin.
You were so silly.
But…you needed to something about your living situation. To get an actual place of your own with a proper bed.
You thought this dream or better off to be called ‘nightmare’ was over when you fell asleep behind the organ.
There was nothing like waking up in the middle of the night in singlet and shorts on cold concrete with rain bucketing on you.
With no light and no one in sight you managed to sneak into a church after nearly breaking your bones trying to climb in through a window.
You pinched yourself.
Nothing.
Sighing, your eyes scanned around only to narrow onto a figure.
Muscles tensing, you immediately hid behind a pillar, and peered from behind it.
The figure was a woman dressed in a long, grey vintage dress. It was finer than all the dresses you scanned and took from the priest rooms last night. Maybe it is just the style here? Her hands were clasped in what seemed to be a deep prayer, some stray curls escaped her hairpins and it framed her cheeks.
She then turned around.
Polly.
That was Polly Shelby.
You immediately hid back behind the pillar and began pinching at your arms and your face. Closing your eyes as tight as possible, you began to hold your breath. Counting to twenty, you opened your eyes and heaved in a breath. Fingers curling against the cool pillar, you slowly creeped your head out enough for one eye to peek.
She was still there!
The woman who you absolutely adored from the show was…there. Right next to a set of candles, her posture straight with her hand clasped and her eyes closed in a deep prayer.
Eyes wide and mouth slack you stared at her in awe. A fly could have flown in your mouth at how wide it hung.
She abruptly stood up, her heels clicking and clacking as she walked towards the exit, moving her hands in the sign of the cross before leaving.
Your eyelashes blinked feverously as you stared at the closed door of the exit.
…Were you in Small Heath?
You took slow, tentative steps to the exit. Hand pressed against the door, you inhaled before pushing the door.
Grey.
It was grey and miserable. Dark pavement covered the street as passer byers dressed in ‘vintage’ clothes. Ladies were dressed in long dresses with sheik bobs while pushing strollers of large four wheels.
Men were dressed in slacks and smoking cigarettes.
THUMP.
The large oaken door bumped you forward and knocked you to your knees.
No one paid mind, instead directing their gazes forward and leaning their heads down.
Clip. Clock. Clip. Clock.
A repetitive rhythm of hooves alerted your ears as you looked to your far right.
Slowly you stood as a figure approached on top of a pure black stallion. His posture straight, one hand on the reins and the other hand comfortable against his thigh. His eyes were hidden beneath a grey
cap, that matched the grey of the three-piece suite he was wearing.
You swallowed as you stepped back slowly, hands grasping at the oaken door behind you for support.
“Surely not?” You whispered out loud, slowly pushing the door behind you.
Your eyes widened as he approached closer. That chiselled jawline. Those plump, delectable lips.
You practically threw yourself backwards into the church, your backside hitting the cold tiles of the floor.
Your leg pushed the door close with a loud BAM. Falling onto your back, you placed a hand on your heaving chest. It felt as though there were a jackhammer instead of a heart beneath your hand.
“Tommy Shelby.” You whispered.
“Thomas fucking Shelby.” You uttered once more, breathlessly. Heavens he was even more devastatingly handsome in the flesh.
You had to be losing it. First Polly and now Tommy. It’s not like you could magically just ‘poof’ into the fictional word of the Peaky Blinders, right?
You kept pinching at yourself, leaving welts on your arm.
“Oh, fuck me.” You covered both hands over your face.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity Fuck-Fuck.”
That’s it. You were going insane. Maybe you were in some sort of coma? You did watch three seasons again during the weekend and have been avidly reading fanfiction.
It must be that.
But all you did was go to bed.
Next minute here you are.
You were not waking up. A dream would have ended ages ago.
“What do I do?” You whimpered, hands still covering your eyes.
“Why am I here?” You asked aloud, this time gazing at the ceiling filled with paintings of angels and other religious figures. Oh, and clouds. There were plenty of clouds…
You sat there for minutes, unmovingly.
Bubbles and loud squelching noises permeated through your stomach. Those eucharists from before were not filling. You need food. You need deodorant. You need money.
“A job. I need a job.” You rubbed your stomach.
“…The Garrisons.” You whispered as you gazed up at the chubby cherubs in the ceiling. They seemed to be smiling at you with a thumbs up.
“The Garrisons!!” You exclaimed, your shout echoing through the church. You stood up and waved at the ceiling. “Thank you!”
For scary little devils that they were last night, they were quite comforting in the day.
With finding the Garrisons in mind you began to scout the place with a spring in your step. Only to find that Small Heath was a lot larger than you anticipated. It was not a ‘small’ heath at all. You walked and walked. Only to realise that you had gotten yourself ridiculously lost. The streets were winding. There were no clear signs of streets. There were no maps. You certainly had no mobile or GPS.
You were on your own.
The smell of pastries wafted into your nostrils the further you walked. Your stomach began to growl at you unforgivingly, most likely digesting itself in its own juices. Groaning, you paused outside a bakery and stared at all the delicious treats through the glass window. It was all there to mock you. There was a cinnamon scroll practically waiting there to be inhaled by you. If only you had money.
Sighing, instead you decided to ask inside for directions.
“Excuse me, do you happen to know where ‘The Garrisons’ at?” You asked politely.
The baker looked at you up and down,” Now why would you be wanting to go there? It’s dangerous, the Shelby lot are always there.”
“There was a noticement that they have been looking for a barmaid.” What on earth were with people being so nosy here?
“Aye, if you keep going straight and on the third left it will be there. Be careful young lady!” The baker warned, wagging a finger. You nodded and thanked him.
When the Garrisons finally came to view, your mouth practically dropped. It was bizarre to see it in actual reality. You stood there gaping for what seemed like minutes and had even gotten strange looks from passerbyers.
Entering, you immediately saw the familiar bar tables and the musky scent of alcohol wafted your senses. It was a pub alright.
You even saw Harry, polishing the glasses away behind the bar.
“Can I help you there love?” He asked with a welcoming smile, eyes crinkling.
“Yes! I had just seen your advertisement for wanting a barmaid, I would like to apply for the job!”
Harry paused, his smile disappeared as he stared at you incredulously. Oh, you already knew what was running through his head.
“I saw it just this morning. I know I look young, but I did work at my uncles’ bar back in Australia. I was also the book keeper. Give me one night and I can prove it to you sir!”
Harry put down the glass and stroked his chin. “Australia aye?”
You nodded,” Born and raised.”
He sighed and gave you one more look. “One night. Tonight, be here at 8 o’clock. I will give you a chance. But be prepared, they are a rowdy lot and will not be easy on ye.”
You must have started grinning like a maniac for he let out a chuckle. “See you tonight and thank you!” You called as you practically skipped out of the pub. Only to run into a familiar blonde lady. Grace.
Her blues eyes widened in slight surprise as you smiled at sheepishly.
“Sorry excuse me,” you apologised, you nodded towards her before stepping out.
You forgot about her. Tommy’s love.
Upon seeing her up close, with blonde gentle curls that frame her face, you could not blame men for fawning over her.
At least you beat her to it for the job.
Sighing, you decided to walk around. There was nothing better to do until eight. You also needed to work out what time it is and whether there is a local clock around.
Loud hollers and the clinking of glasses greeted you as you stepped into the pub. You had to mutter ‘excuse me’ almost every step you took to reach the bar.
Harry immediately spotted you and waved you over. Men were already catcalling and whistling.
Shaking your head and glaring at a few, you walked towards Harry. He threw an apron at you and nodded. “Let’s see how you do behind a bar lass.”
Smiling you stepped behind the bar and placed your hands on the timbre wide. “Alrighty boys, what can I get ya?” You called out to your first few customers. Every beer you poured was perfectly. You held
your glasses at a forty-five-degree angle to get the perfect froth under the tap. Even earning yourself a few tips. It was good to be back behind the bar. You used to work at your uncle’s bar in Bondi and had experienced more than a few share of busy weekend nights. It reminded you of home.
It was all going phenomenally well until you had to collect glasses from the patrons. While placing the tray down at a table to collect a beer, a stinky, obviously intoxicated man decided to pinch your bottom.
“How much for ye, darlin’?” You could smell the alcohol from his breath.
You immediately seized his wrist by reflex and had him gasping in pain.
“Sorry?” You asked, smiling with wide teeth. Bending his wrist even more at an odd angle.
“N-Nothing.” You released his wrist and nodded. You continued to pick up the glasses while the rest of the patrons looked at you in shock. You merely gave them a smile, teeth bared, challenging them to try something.
No one.
Good. It was better to nip things or people in the bud before it got worse. Thankfully you did not freeze as you did last night with toothless. You needed to show that you were not to be messed with.
Harry nodded at you with a smile from the bar, shaking his head. It seemed that he was impressed with how things were going.
It was at around ten that you felt the energy of the move change. Men’s eyes directed towards the door. A lady walked through.
Grace.
You winced as you heard the whistles, but she took in stride and did not acknowledge them.
The two of you did not talk as it was too busy to even mutter in a hello. But together, along with Harry you all managed to keep the clientele well quenched and even provided light banter.
All was good and well until it suddenly went silent.
A pin could have dropped and every person in that room would hear it.
Ah, the Peaky Blinders. You immediately smiled and brought your head down to try and hide it. At the corner of your eye you saw three men stride in. All were impeccably dressed in their three-piece suits and signature caps with blades sewn around the edges.
“Who are they?” Grace whispered. Like she had absolutely no idea.
You almost rolled your eyes. Almost.
“The Peaky Blinders. Give them whatever they want on the house.” Harry replied.
Grace had already landed her eyes on what you assumed was Tommy. You were on the other side of the bar and were unable to see much.
“What a weird name. Kinda sounds like they’re creepy perverts peeking through windows or something.” You commented. Harry immediately shushed you with wide eyes and started making knife notions at his neck.
“What? It’s true.” You shrugged your shoulders.
You turned around and of course, lo’ and behold there was a blinder standing behind you. Lovely.
Not just any blinder, but Thomas fucking Shelby in all his glory.
“Ah fuck.” The words literally escaped you. You had just managed to shoot yourself on the foot.
The man in question had an impassive stare as he stood silently, his shoulders wide and back straight in his impeccable three-piece suit. He was taller in person than what you had anticipated, but it may
have been just by the way he looked down at you with a cool gaze.
Intimidating was putting it mildly.
His eyes were cold, and his face hinted nothing.
You swallowed.
Giving a tight-lipped smile you immediately grabbed the best bottle of Irish whisky you could find and poured him a glass, leaving the bottle beside it.
His brow raised slightly as he continued to stare at you, while grabbing the glass and placing coins on the counter.
“Uh, excuse me. It’s on the house.” You uttered, feeling your palms go clammy as you fingered your apron.
He immediately downed his glass and took the bottle with one hand, descending his piercing eyes down towards you.
His impassive blues seemed to lock yours in a hold.
He blinked very slowly, his long lashes brushing against the roof of his hooded brow bone.
Seconds passed, and you thought you were just about to keel over when he finally broke his hypnotising stare.
A nod towards your direction, he turned away. The suit jacket did little to hide the broad, lean muscles of his shoulders and arms. His footsteps sure and seemed to pave a path effortlessly as patrons parted before him like the red sea.
The moment he turned, all breath had left your body.
The intensity of the man could not ever be described. He did not even utter a single word but…
Never in your entire life had you felt so breathless.
It was one thing to watch him on screen.
But in real life, the gang leader was the epitome of a deadly, beautiful devil.
Thomas Shelby. Thomas fucking Shelby.
He was right there, and you had just insulted albeit jokingly the name of his organisation.
You were in deep shit.
That was perhaps one of the worst first impressions you could have given to a dangerous, calculating man.
Harry shook his head and sighed in relief. “Lassie, you do not want to be on their bad side. Especially with Thomas Shelby.”
“Why?” Silly question really.
“Because we’re the Peaking fuck Blinders darl’. We run this town.” Came the familiar drawl of Arthur Shelby. He winked at you. “A glass of whisky love.” You nodded and immediately poured him a glass, made it a triple shot. You nodded as he drowned it all in one go. “What’s ya name lass?”
“[Your Name].”
“Well [Your Name], I think we’re gonna get along just fine.” He gave you one more wink before pushing his way though other terrified patrons.
“So, the Peaky Blinders?” You muttered, pouring another customer a beer. Shaking your head, you could not imagine that this just happened.
It was towards two in the morning that everyone had started to leave. Grace had already left at one, while you stayed back with Harry to help finish cleaning and updating his books from tonight.
You still had not had the chance to talk to the blonde spy. It was a lot busier than any weekend night back in Sydney at a bar and the two of you merely shared smiles, rolling your eyes together at some patrons.
You had just finished writing up the sums and totalled everything up while Harry was changing the barrels down in the cellar.
Done and not sure what to do with yourself, you decided to give all tables a final wipe down and to sweep the floor.
Humming a few songs to yourself you got out the rag and began wiping everything. The tables were practically drenched in alcohol and smoke suds were everywhere. Sighing, you eventually began to sing songs softly to yourself as swept the floor, swaying with the imaginary music in your mind.
‘Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half-crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.’
The sound of clapping alerted your ears and you froze while sweeping. You turned around, only to once more gaze into the stoic, handsome face of Thomas Shelby.
His eyes met yours as he silently gazed at you, bringing a cigarette to his lips. Lighting a matchstick to his cigarette, he took a deep puff and blew. He looked the very part of a prowling predator, movements made leisurely yet with an undertone of danger. His eyes, still refusing to let yours go.
“Bravo.” He finally broke the silence. The first word he had ever uttered towards you, huskily between breathing in the cigarette held between his long fingers. His deep voice warmed you unexpectedly, sending violent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.
You felt your cheeks redden as you bit your lips out of nervous habit.
“…thank you.” You uttered shyly, diverting your eyes finally away to the floor.
“What is your name?” His deep voice and Brummie accent combined was something akin to a thundering storm that was both powerful and commanding. It beckoned you to answer.
“[Your Name].” You lifted your eyes once more, only to see that his had never left your face.
“What’s your business in Birmingham, [Your Name]?” He asked, taking in another breath of smoke.
“Trying to make a living.” You answered honestly.
“And Grace?”
You immediately tensed, unconsciously so. His eyes had picked up the movement watching as you struggled to form words.
“To be honest, I have no idea. We hardly had the chance to talk tonight because of how busy it was.” He nodded, seeming to accept your answer. Of course, he would be interested in her, she was going to
become his wife. The mother of his child. Those two had their plots written out and intertwined but they did not know it. Only you did. But what would you do with that knowledge?
With that he nodded towards you and exited out the doors.
You had not even managed to say ‘thank you’ or ‘goodnight’ by the time he left. He was as mysterious and unpredictable as he was depicted on screen. If not more so in real life.
“[Your Name] did you-Wait you finished everything and calculated everything already?” Harry asked incredulously.
You grinned at him, saluting him, “Aye Captain.”
“Blimey, you have just saved me hours tomorrow. See you back tomorrow at the same time.”
You were hired!
“Thank you Harry! See you tomorrow.” With that you headed off to ‘home’. Which was the church.
Of course, once more when you got to the giant oak doors it was locked. Groaning, you honestly did not have the energy to become Spiderman and start climbing. This time there was no light inside the church, making it even more difficult to gage where there may be a possible opening. However, it seemed that the window from last night was still open.
This time it wasn’t raining, and you had managed to climb through it easily enough. Yawning, you walked towards the alter and to the corridor with the toilet and basin.
Seeing as there was no shower, you quickly ran to one of the rooms and grabbed a cloth to use as a sponge and another robe from what appeared to be an endless supply. Using the basin, you gave yourself a sponge bath, shuddering at the cold water and immediately wrapped yourself up in the robe when done. Once more you walked to the last room and took more eucharists for food during the day tomorrow. It seemed that the church honestly had an endless supply and would never notice if you took a few packets each day.
Yawning, you made your way to your sleeping spot behind the organ and snuggled in. Well as much as you could without a mattress and pillow on a wooden floor. At least it wasn’t stone, otherwise you would have been freezing.
Closing your eyelids, all you could see were pale blue eyes.
BOOOOM.
“Fuck!”
Immediately you jolted, hitting your head against the organ. Hopefully it was just a door…
“No. Nope. No such things as ghosts.” You whispered to yourself.