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𝙤𝙣𝙚.

𝙤𝙣𝙚 | 𝘼 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙋𝙐𝘽𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙀𝙎

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

ANNABEL LEE KEATS had learned a lot about The Garrison, Small Heath and its residents in the short week she had been there.

Days flew by and merged together in a blur as she was shown by Harry and Grace, who had herself only arrived in town from Ireland a short two weeks prior, the ropes of the business : from serving drinks and tending tables to dealing with rowdy men. She quickly became acquainted with the unsavory parts of life from which her parents had always shielded her and was forced to grow a backbone as the one she thought she had, she realized, was good only in dealing and rebelling against the suffocation caused by upper class London and useless when it came to the real world.

Nevertheless, she found in that short amount of a time a great happiness deriving from the mere fact that she was now a free woman that could go wherever she pleased, say whatever she felt like saying and working for what she wanted. Nothing could hinder this happiness, she thought, as she cleaned the surface of the bar with a wet cloth while listening to Grace's melodious voice ring through the air, as she would let no one come between her and her new life.

Annabel Keats had thought too soon.

One night, as Grace's song came to a close and the voices of the men who had joined her simmered down, she heard Harry's voice over the crowd.

"We haven't had singing in here since the war!" He said, happily.

"Why do you think that is, Harry?"

She recognized that voice. It was the voice of Thomas Shelby, leader of the vicious Peaky Blinders. She had been warned by Harry that they were dangerous men, but Annabel's pride had gotten the best of her a week prior and caused her to snap at the notorious gangster, resulting in a flash of surprise in his icy blue eyes and loud laughter from his brothers. After the words had left her mouth, she remembered Harry's words and quickly gathered herself and left the room in haste. She later asked Grace who the men where, and Grace had given her the complete rundown on the Peaky Blinders and Thomas, Tommy, Shelby (which was suspiciously throughout) making her blood run cold. However, he hadn't come to murder her the following day, or the day after that, and as the week passed Annabel assumed that she was in the clear.

She wasn't so sure now.

Her head snapped up and her dark brown eyes met the pale blue ones that were already staring intently at her, as if looking for the answer to an unspoken question. In her 19 years of life, Annabel had known many men, but none like Tommy Shelby.

She suddenly felt hot. She tied her long ginger hair, that by now had passed her waist (which most working women thought ridiculous), and she felt the pair of pale blue eyes follow her every move.

The men with razor blades sewn on their caps slowly trickled down to the private parlor, except for one, who came up to her at the bar, sporting a bright smile on his face and a toothpick in his mouth. John, the younger of the three, she believed.

Annabel returned the smile. "Good evening, what can I get you?"

John's smirk turned mischievous. "Your ass on a platter!" Before she could respond, he continued. "Nah, just joking. Wouldn't want ya to rip me a new one like you did my brother the other day." Blush crept up Annabel's cheeks, which made John widen his smile. "Just some beer for me, love."