The Ghost Requiem (Tommy Shelby x Reader) OneShot

The Ghost Requiem

Hi, I'm sorry if the characters are a little OOC, I just had this idea and wanted to write it. Also, this one shot takes place after the end of season 1 and doesn't consider the following events.
Tommy is 31 in this fanfic and the reader is around 28. Also Finn is 13.
That's about it, I hope you'll enjoy this little story ^^

The Ghost Requiem, that's what they called it. The violin music that would flow through the Small Heath streets every single night, always exactly from 7 minutes to 12 until the moment church bells hit midnight. And as the bells loudly announced the time, it would disappear 'till the next night. Every time, the song would be different, but it always held sorrow and pain so great that it could be played at funerals. It was as if the music itself was crying for someone. They called it The Ghost Requiem because it started the day the Shelby brothers and their comrades in arms came home from war, as if it sung for the ones who didn't make it back.

It was another of those nights when Tommy was sitting in his room, waiting for the music to start so he could lay down to sleep. It was strange, how whenever he fell asleep while hearing those melodies, his nightmares would skip a night and only return the next day. It was rare that he managed to be home by the time to make it but when he was lucky, he always got the most sleep in weeks.

He laid his head on the pillow the same exact moment as the first peaceful tone tore through the air. It made him wonder why the person even did it in the first place. It has been over a year and they have been playing every single night, no matter the weather. Like now. It was the middle of winter, air freezing and snow coating the streets and roofs in grayish white, dirtied by the contaminated air of Birmingham. And yet the mysterious musician was outside, playing the violin for no audience, alone somewhere where no one could see them.

It was strange, no one has ever seen the person who played the Requiem, no one ever found them. They tried, of course, but whenever they closed in on the sound's location, it would stop early and disappear for the night like a phantom. A ghost. Some of the more superstitious people believed it really was one, the spirit of a violinist who died in the war but his soul wandered back home. With thoughts like this running through his mind, Thomas Shelby drifted off to sleep without even realizing. And once again, the nightmares stayed away and the shovels and pickaxes didn't make an appearance behind his wall.

***

It was the next morning and Tommy felt better than he has felt in weeks. A good night's sleep really worked wonders for him.

It was a slow day, not much business until later in the afternoon and even those were just formalities. The man decided to take a walk along the river to clear his mind a bit. He has been so busy lately that there was no time to even think about anything aside from the Shelby betting business and the Peaky Blinders. But today, today was the day to breathe.

Tho that wasn't the best either since the Birmingham air was ever so dirty and a thick fog decided to settle into the streets. He could see a little of the gray water flowing by and dark figures of people passing by appearing and disappearing in the wall of lazy smoke and air moisture. Everyone was headed somewhere, as always.

Or so he thought until a black silhouette made itself known in front of him. As Tommy closed in, he could make out a long skirt, a wool coat and long hair slightly swaying in the breeze. The woman was standing still, overlooking the river which was impossible to see. An orange light broke the gray monochrome as she lit a cigarette, the flame shortly illuminating her face but long enough to recognize. After all, there weren't many pretty young women like her around here.

(Y/N) Maxwell was her name, the daughter of a baker who owned a shop only two streets away. She worked in her father's bakery and was known to be the sweetest and purest girl in Small Heath, if not the whole Birmingham. Everyone knew who she was despite her best efforts to be as mundane as possible so she would escape unwanted attention. How could they not notice such a gem in dirty ugly Birmingham? She was absolutely gorgeous with her luscious (H/C) hair and sparkly (E/C) eyes, smiled often and had the prettiest voice any man has ever had the pleasure of hearing. And still, despite being so desirable, (Y/N) was definitely not a whore. There has been way too many men storming through the Garrison door in anger and frustration at being turned down by her.