Soft on Rebellion

Soft on Rebellion - Chapter 1

AN: This isn't my first time writing but I've become a bit disillusioned with my other works on my other account. It's come with a lot of pressure and baggage I wasn't expecting so was planning on taking a break before I fell in love with Peaky Blinders. Especially as a working class northerner, it's special. I love the women characters in the show and could see my own forming as I binged, so here we are. I won't be writing with apostrophes and shortened words to show their accent because that's my accent too, and the way I speak/write/read naturally.

Also, this isn't a cutsie story. This first chapter might seem so but it picks up from S1 in the next chapter and we're into the heavy stuff. I want Tessa to be a Peaky Blinder, not just the daughter/niece of one, but not for her to be one dimensional bad girl either.I hope I've managed to create a complex, realistic character in not only her, but the rest of the canon cast. I'm aiming for this to be a story of all of them, not just Tessa.

This story also won't just stick to canon. I've added in my own little storylines and changes to keep you guys on your toes. Warnings for language/violence throughout. I thought I could keep to T but some chapters may be M, which I'll put in an AN.

I've probably forgotten to include something but for now, here you go.

It was Arthur who started it.

Those were words often on Tommy Shelby's lips as he grew up. Arthur suffered from a serious case of second-sibling-syndrome. Going from an only child to having a little brother was a curse more than it was a blessing, to begin with. The pecking order had to be established, the boys knew. Pol and their mother didn't share this idea, however, and so they were often on the receiving end of a clipped ear.

It was Arthur who started it.

It was Tommy.

Arthur.

TOMMY!

It doesn't make any difference, I'm finishing it.

And both would walk away rubbing the backs of their heads.

But this time, Tommy was adamant that the whole fuck up was entirely Arthur's fault.

1904, Small Heath, Birmingham.

She was pretty, he admitted, but nothing that took his breath away. If that was even what happened. In his seventeen years, he had taken a couple of women, but none so far that could make him return the next night. Or even stay till they woke up, in fact.

He doubted that would ever happen, if he was honest. The name Thomas Shelby was well-established already. Women were either afraid of him or enamoured with the idea of him. He doubted any of them could truly fit into his life, but they could fit into his bed for a night if they wished. It couldn't be said that he wasn't a gentlemen.

"Go on!"

"Shut up, Arthur," Tommy muttered, taking another swig of his whiskey. "You'll wake John up at home banging on like that."

Arthur sniggered and whacked his back. A drunk Arthur could go one of two ways: solemn and depressed, or rowdy and obnoxiously happy. Tonight was clearly the latter.

"What's wrong with her, eh? Thought you liked brunettes."

"She's fine."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Just not in the mood tonight."

He'd had to cut up a couple of his old schoolmate's fathers earlier in the day. He didn't regret it, but it didn't exactly sit lightly in his stomach.