𝒾𝒾. 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒: bring her

9.8K 212 20
                                        



ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : trouble's coming - royal blood

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻



ii. twelve: ❝bring her



✵✵✵



Small Heath, Birmingham



THE GARRISON WAS HEAVY with warmth that didn't belong to warmth at all—rowdy laughter, smoke curling like wicked fingers, the stench of cheap gin and wet boots, and the faint sweetness of a song that didn't belong in a place so soaked with sin. The melody of "The Sunshine of Your Smile" slid through the haze like a ghost, too tender for a den built on violence.

And there she was. Marianna James.

She slipped in through the back like she always did, bucket of beer in hand, cheeks touched by the cold, the whispers in her head crackling soft as firewood. The room shifted without noticing it—men laughing just a little louder, eyes flicking toward her without meaning to. The Shelby brothers were gathered in their nook, circled round a card table thick with smoke and secrets. John's grin widened when he saw her, Arthur barely noticed until John elbowed him, and Thomas... Thomas didn't look at her straight away.

He felt her before he saw her.

"Hello." Marianna greeted, voice quiet, a trace of exhaustion in it. But her eyes were soft, wickedly soft. They lingered just a second too long on Thomas Shelby's profile before drifting off.

"Christ, look who the wind's dragged in. Mari, love, feels like years since we've seen that face." Arthur remarked, looking up from his cards with a grin that was half-devil, half-boy. "You've gotten prettier, eh?"

Marianna tilted her head, lips curving in a slow smile. "Maybe you've just gotten drunker, Arthur Shelby."

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. "Aye, maybe I have, girl. Maybe I have."

John leaned back in his chair, still grinning. "And what about me then, Mari? You think I'm still your favourite, or has our Tommy stolen your good side again?"

She shot him a look; playful but sharp enough to wound. "If I ever had a favourite, John, I'd not tell a room full of egos. You'll be drinkin' your own reflection if I say your name out loud."

The table erupted with Arthur's laugh, loud and booming. Even Thomas cracked a faint smirk at that, the cigarette at his lips burning slow.

"Alright, alright, cheeky little thing." John grinned, pretending to nurse his pride.

Marianna set the bucket down, rolling her sleeves up just slightly. "Whiskey for the lot of you?"

He didn't speak right away — didn't need to. His eyes drifted to her as she poured beer into their glasses, the movement of her hands almost maddening. He thought of the night before; the way she'd looked at him before their kiss, the way her breath had trembled against his jaw. And now here she was again, calm as water, pretending the world hadn't shifted.

METHOD OF MADNESS ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ¹ (Under editing)Where stories live. Discover now