Peaky Blinders Oneshots

Campbell x Reader

Word Count: 1,153
Not Proof Read
No use of (Y/N)
TW: Major character death
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     It was a Tuesday morning. A week prior, I'd wobbled on into the baker's in my new heels with the intent to ask for a job. I hadn't even had to do that– it would seem the people on my block still appreciate the sweets I bring around on holidays. I was hired on the spot, courtesy of the insistence of Ms Gardner, my neighbour. I'd been working there a week when he walked in. The cop. He strode in confidently, immediately drawing eyes. Mostly mine, but still. Who could blame me? He held himself with such unquestionable authority… he reminded me of Tommy. He'd come in once with John and Arthur to get some bread when his aunt, Polly, was sick.
     All the same, I could tell he was different from any of the Shelbys the moment he walked through the door. I watched him curiously for a bit longer as he examined the shelves, looking away the moment he turned toward the counter. I made myself busy straightening the trays on the counter as he wandered over to me, his gaze boring into me. When he cleared his throat, I looked up at him, forcing my eyes to look wide and curious as though I hadn't just stared at him for a while. He blinked, seeming surprised, and looked around. "Is there… anyone else here?" I shook my head, mumbling, "no, sir." He hummed thoughtfully before resting his hands on the counter. I took a step back. He chuckled lowly. "I'm not going to try anything. I just want some bread." I quietly asked what he'd like. Five minutes later, he'd tossed a coin onto the counter and left with a loaf of bread. I watched him go.
     He came back two weeks later at the same time. I was surprised to see him again. He just offered me a tiny, wry smile and bought another loaf of bread before he left. This continued for a month. Until one day, he came in two days after his last visit. He took longer to choose his bread and when he paid, he insisted on handing it to me directly, pressing the coins into my hand. He kept coming back daily for biscuits or mini cakes and I found myself thinking about him frequently, my mind lingering on the happy conversations we'd had. I was thinking about him when Tommy came to get a package of biscuits for Ada and Freddie. He saw how distracted I was and watched me while I'd packed the biscuits. When I tried to hand it to him, he didn't take it, instead just standing there, watching me. When I started to get uncomfortable under his gaze, he asked, "who is it?" His tone frightened me and all I managed to get out was, "uh… um… w-what?" He grabbed his biscuits. "Stay away from Campbell. He's bad news," he spat over his shoulder as he left. The venom in his voice had me paralyzed, rooted to the spot.
     I was unable to move until someone else came in. The ringing of the bell strung above the door made me look to see who entered– I was instantly relieved to see Campbell standing there looking rather confused. "You alright?" he asked gruffly. I just nodded in response, turning to grab him a biscuit. He stopped me, staying silent for a moment before he asked for some bread instead. I blinked, looking up at him, and turned to grab him some. He stopped me yet again, hesitantly asking if I'd make him a fresh batch. I blinked and quietly warned him that with rising and baking time it'd take a few hours. He chuckled, informing me that that was the point. I smiled shyly, rushing off to the back. Before too long, I headed back out to the front. We talked half the day away as I occasionally served customers and checked on the bread. Eventually, I handed him a fresh, hot loaf of bread and locked up. That was the first night he walked me home.
     Needless to say, Tommy wasn't happy. Polly made sure I knew how displeased he was with me. But I didn't care. I finally had a friend, someone I talked to and trusted. The bakery was a special place, somewhere we could talk about anything free of judgement, where we could rest assured that what we said would never be said to anyone else. A few weeks after he started walking me home, I started inviting him in and waking in the morning with him at my side. Seeing someone with me, reminding me that I wasn't alone, filled me with warmth and love and adoration to the point where, in my eyes, he could do no wrong. Obviously, my vision was clouded.
     A few months later, he stopped coming to the baker's altogether. No warning. I began to dread going home with the knowledge that I was back to waking up alone. Everything felt so empty without him. I'd resigned myself to the fact that he wasn't coming back when he suddenly reappeared in the baker's one day. He looked… older. Mentally. Exhausted and stressed and sad. And in his hand was a cane. He was limping. I ran right to him and he actually embraced me. I just stood there, clinging to him, for a while, before he eventually bought some biscuits and we ate them while he told me what happened. He was a bit different after that. More distant and harsh. I didn't mind. I didn't think anything of it. He told me about everything that happened with everything– from Tommy starting fights in London and his officers being on two different parties' payrolls to how Grace had left him to bleed and die. I felt nothing but sympathy for him having to deal so much. I certainly didn't think twice about the man Tommy was going up against.
     Everything was fine for a while. I had someone again, Tommy was angry I'd gone right back to him, and I was getting to move out of my tiny flat and into Campbell's home. Everything was packed. I was settling down for the night, the bed feeling empty with Campbell at work dealing with some paperwork. Everything was quiet and still until my door suddenly caved in with a thunderous crash, a man's silhouette appeared in the frame, the gleam of a gun flashed, and a single deafening bang ran through the air. Time slowed down. I didn't have to be a genius to figure out that he's a hired gun for that man– Sabini. I know Tommy would never have me killed. And I'm only dying because of my connection to Campbell. I only feel my body hit the ground before everything goes black because I hadn't listened to Tommy. Because I wobbled into the baker's on a Tuesday morning.