this is a double update, read three first!

Florence stared at herself in the mirror, feeling uneasy in her appearance, as though something had changed, but she couldn't figure out what. She struggled deciding what to wear to the Garrison, knowing that the pub would mainly be full of men, as always. But as a member of the Peaky Blinders her presence as the only woman in the group went unnoticed most of the time, and if any customer had a negative word to say on the matter, a Peaky boy would put them in their place.

She'd debated curling up in bed, her body overcome with exhaustion for no apparent reason. But that would mean letting the boys down, and deep down she knew that she'd feel better for seeing them.

So she dusted herself down, changed into a forest green dress, letting her hair hang naturally as she always did.

"Flossie," Her mother's voice echoed through the house, "You've got a visitor."

Florence took one last look in the mirror, content enough with her appearance, mentally bracing herself for all of the sexist comments that would no doubt be made by the men in the pub. She made her way downstairs, spotting her mother and then Elijah standing in the sitting room. He looked as though he had come straight from work, wearing a navy blue three piece suit, with a white shirt and forest green tie.

"I thought George was joining us," Florence smiled as she reached the bottom of the stairs, retrieving her fur cuffed coat from the hook and slipping it on.

"Am I not good enough company for you Floss?" Elijah replied, glancing between the girl and her mother.

"Of course you are," Florence rolled her eyes playfully, "So, where is that brother of yours?"

"Believe it or not, he's meeting the parents of his soon to be fiancée." Elijah explained, having left the Harrington estate as the girl and her parents were arriving.

"George is getting married?" Imelda scoffed in disbelief, "As in your brother? He's been on the charm offense since he was twelve years old."

"That's why they're marrying him off, to protect the family name," Elijah told the women, and Florence struggled to decide whether or not he agreed with the idea.

"Your mother will be hounding me for a wedding dress then?" Imelda sighed, all too familiar with the demands of a woman like Margaret Harrington.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Elijah smiled at the woman sympathetically.

"Right, don't let me stop you two from having fun," Imelda told the two friends, opening the front door and ushering them out onto the street, "Be good."

"Always," Florence smiled, slipping her arm through Elijah's, clinging on for warmth and security as the pair paced along the pavement in the direction of the Garrison.

"What have I missed in your world, Miss Florence?" Elijah asked the girl, glancing down at her with a smile, "My father's had me so wrapped up in these new business deals, I've barely seen you."

"The shop's been busy," Florence sighed as Tommy Shelby played on her mind, leaving her contemplating whether or not to tell her dear friend the truth about her relationship, "And the Shelbys are bringing me into the firm."

"Does that mean I'm in the presence of a Peaky Blinder?" Elijah smirked at the girl as she held onto his arm.

"I suppose so," Florence grinned, overcome with pride at the thought of being part of such a thing.

"I have no doubt that you'll have them wrapped around your finger before the year is out," Elijah assured the girl as they turned a corner, passing a group of men in flat caps lingering, a few with lit cigarettes in their mouths. One in particular caught her eye, with his chiseled jaw and devious smirk as he laid eyes on her, she wordlessly returned her gaze to the cobbled street.

"What'll you be drinking tonight?" Florence asked Elijah in an attempt to distract herself from Tommy's looming presence on the side of the street.

"Harrington's finest ale, obviously," Elijah joked, the pair both aware that every pub in Birmingham and beyond stocked Harrington ale, "Call it consumer research, what'll you be having?"

"Whiskey, most likely," Florence answered as the pair rounded another corner, setting their eyes on the Garrison.

"Spoken like a true Peaky Blinder," Elijah nodded as they approached the pub, which even from outside, sounded livelier than usual.

Elijah pushed the door open, propping it open with his elbow, "After you, my lady."

"What a gentleman," Florence teased, crossing the threshold, startled by the sound of a soft female voice singing, a sound she hadn't ever heard in the Garrison. Women didn't frequent the pub prior to the war, but she knew enough to know that it wouldn't go down well with the Peaky Blinders, or rather, one in particular.

The pair moved through the crowds of people, who automatically parted at the sight of the Dawson girl, knowing the consequences that would await them if they crossed her. They found a place at the bar, Harry, the manager, tending to them as the singing continued.

"It's good to see you Florence," Harry smiled nervously, "and you too, Mr Harrington."

"It's lovely to see you too, Harry," Florence replied, sensing Harry's anxiety at the sight of Elijah, given his involvement in the breweries.

"What'll it be?" Harry asked as the girl at the other end of the pub continued to sing.

"I'll have a whiskey, Irish," Florence answered, glancing up at Elijah.

"Make that two," Elijah nodded, discarding his previous comment about Harrington Ale.

"Right away," Harry replied, rummaging for bottles of whiskey as Florence turned her attention to the singer.

"I don't think they've had singing in here since before the war," Elijah muttered from behind the girl, recalling the days he spent in the Garrison prior to the war.

"Tommy won't like it," Florence whispered as Harry returned with their drinks.

"I am just a young girl, I have just come over, over from the country where they do things big," The girl sang, and Florence had to admit, she had one of the smoothest voices she had ever heard, "and amongst the boys, I've got myself a lover and since I have a lover, I don't care a fig."

Florence became startled as the punters around her began to join in with the song, she leant her back against the bar, Elijah beside her as she swilled the liquid around her glass, "The boy I love is up in the gallery, the boy I love is..."

The door to the pub startled the men in the room, as they returned to pretending to be busy, the only voice left in the room being the girl standing on the table at the other end of the room. Florence quickly noted why the men had stopped singing, setting eyes on Tommy and his brother, John accompanied by a few of the other peaky men.

"...looking at me, can't you see him standing there, waving his handkerchief as merry as a robin that sings on the tree." The woman continued to sing until she took note of the hostility that filled the room, Tommy watching her as her voice trailed off, the room laced in painful silence.

"Floss," John nodded as he approached her and Elijah, wrapping his arm around the girl's shoulder, "What did we miss?"

"Not much," Florence answered, placing her glass against her lips and knocking back the remainders of the whiskey.

The room remained silent as Florence, Elijah and John watched Harry shuffle over to Tommy, "We haven't had singing in here since the war."

Tommy looked at him with the sort of stare that could kill if the man wanted to, "Why'd you think that is, Harry?"

"Erm, well" Harry stuttered, "I don't think-"

"Exactly," Tommy nodded blankly, flicking his gaze to Florence with a subtle smile before returning his attention to Harry, "Bottle of whiskey when you're ready."

The two Shelby brothers, followed by their Peaky Blinder entourage disappeared into the private room beside the bar. The weight that lifted on their departure could be felt across the pub as people descended back into quiet chatter.

"Always a barrel of laughs with the Shelby boys," Elijah sighed, just loud enough for Florence to hear.

"Mmhmm," Florence hummed, watching the singer return to working behind the bar, leading Florence to assume that she must be a new barmaid.

"Florence," Harry spoke from behind the bar, having just closed the hatch to the private room, "Tommy says you two are welcome to join the boys."

"What do you think?" Elijah glanced at the girl.

"If Tommy wants us to join him, then he can come and get us," Florence replied with a smirk, turning to Harry, "Another whiskey when you're ready."

"Very well," Harry nodded, grabbing a half used bottle from the shelf and pouring the contents into Florence's glass.

About fifteen minutes passed before Tommy emerged from the private room, silently strolling through the bar, approaching Elijah and Florence as they stood at the bar. mid conversation. Tommy wasn't jealous of Elijah per say, but he was envious of anyone who made his girl smile like that, knowing that it should be him. He believed that a relationship could only end in tears for him, but he found himself wondering what a life together might consist of.

"Elijah," Tommy nodded at the man before returning his gaze to Florence, "Flo, are you not joining us?"

"Harry didn't exactly sell it to us," Florence replied, teasing Tommy in a way that she knew would get under his skin ever so slightly, "I wanted to hear the offer from the man himself."

"Well," Tommy answered, shuffling on his feet as he remained bewildered by Florence's confidence, not that it was newfound, but rather that she was prepared to be confident publicly, "Would you two like to join us?"

"Elijah?" Florence glanced up at the man who was having a tough enough time attempting to understand the dynamic between the Dawson girl and the Shelby man, "What do you think?"

"Who am I to say no to a personal invite from Thomas Shelby?" Elijah smirked, knowing exactly what type of business the Shelby family dealt in, but he was prepared to turn a blind eye to it, knowing that it does in fact benefit his business too.

"This way," Tommy gestured towards the private room, leading the pair through the door.

"Flossie," John grinned as he set eyes on the girl, "What brings you here?"

"Personal invitation from the man himself," Florence smirked, seating herself in the booth opposite John, Elijah taking the seat next to her.

"And who's this?" One of the Peaky Blinders sitting beside John gestured towards Elijah.

"He's Elijah Harrington, he owns the brewery that makes the beer that you're drinking, so I suggest you watch your mouth." Tommy answered, knowing that Florence would've said something similar but knowing that the men in the room would not have respected her words.

"Mr Harrington," The man stumbled over his words as a smirk crept onto Elijah's face, "Can I just say, you make a great pint of beer."

"The pleasures all mine," Elijah nodded as one of Tommy's other men topped up their whiskey glasses.

"Floss," John spoke up, glancing between Elijah and Florence, "He ain't your fancy man is he?"

"John," Tommy sighed firmly.

"You've got yourself a Harrington, have you?" John grinned, "That's you sorted, innit, you won't have to work another day-"

"John," Tommy hit his palm against the table, "Leave the girl alone."

"Yes, Tom," John huffed as Tommy glanced down at Florence from where he stood beside her, just longing to have the woman to himself.

Everytime he looked at the woman, he fought another internal battle, knowing deep down that his life would be far less complicated if he could just admit that he loved her. He had never let those words pass his lips, and he doubted whether he ever would. The things he saw in France changed him and the way he thought not just about the world, but love too. To admit the love he felt for Florence would be to let her see all of him, and he wasn't sure that he was willing to risk losing her if she didn't like what she was faced with.

"I don't have a fancy man, John," Florence sighed, glancing at Tommy over her whiskey glass.

"So, there's still hope for me then?" John remarked with a lopsided grin.

"In your dreams, sweetheart," Florence answered, downing the remains of her whiskey.

"I'll be seeing you there tonight," He smirked with a wink.

"Watch it," Florence could tell that toying with John would get under Tommy's skin, she knew it would be a matter of time before he got territorial, and she liked to play in that, knowing Tommy's thoughts about being a proper public couple, "Tommy will tell you I'm a good shot."

"She's right," Tommy replied with a proud smile, "You should've seen her earlier, apparently Elijah here trained her up a few years ago."

"Guilty as charged," Elijah holds his hands up in defence, "She's better than half the men we served alongside in France."

"See, I knew it," John grinned, lighting a cigarette, "You've always been a Peaky Blinder."

"I mean, did I have much choice growing up next to you boys?" Florence smirked, glancing at the two Shelby men, "Pretty sure I was younger than Finn is the first time I saw a gun."

The friends remained in that room until closing, when eventually Harry reluctantly cleared them out, knowing that often he would get grief from the peaky boys for doing so. But given that Elijah was in their presence, they thought better of it.

"John and I will walk you home, Floss," Tommy told the girl as they stood outside of the pub with Elijah, "Saves Elijah trailing back just to head back to the Harrington manor."

"A Shelby man on each arm?" Florence smirked, feeling the effects of the whiskey running through her veins, "How did I get so lucky?"

"I'll see you soon, Flo," Elijah nodded at the girl, "Come by ours and we'll go out riding, Dakota's missed you," He told her, referring to his family's prestigious award winning horse.

"Will do," She smiled graciously, "Good night, Elijah."

"Tommy, John, get her home safe," Elijah nodded at them both before disappearing into the night.

"Come on Miss Dawson," John held out his arm for her to hold onto, "Let's get you home."

Florence clung onto the younger Shelby man's arm, rather hoping that it would have been Tommy who would make the offer. But to decline would look odd, and she was too tired and too tipsy to fathom the conversation that would follow.

"So, Floss, will you be joining us boys on our trips to the races from now on?" John asked as the pair made their way back towards Watery Lane, Tommy walking close behind.

"That depends on what the boss thinks," She smiled, glancing over her shoulder at Tommy.

"I'll talk him round, don't you worry," John assured her with a mischievous grin, knowing that a face like hers could be a sweetener for the men they come up against, but also aware that each of the Shelby brothers would take a bullet for her if it came to it.

"I think he thinks I need protecting," Florence muttered, just loud enough that only John could hear her voice.

"Floss, we all know that you're capable of looking after yourself, it's them men out there that we don't fuck with," John told her as they rounded the corner, "And you know what'd happen if something happened to you."

"You make valid points, John," Florence smiled reluctantly, "But I'm not made for sitting behind a desk."

"I know that," John assured her, "We all know that."

"I need you to get me something," She whispered, knowing better than to ask Tommy, given the reservations he would have, "A gun, just for protection."

"I'll see what I can do, Flo," John assured her as they reached the girl's front door.

"You're a good lad, John," Florence smiled, letting go of his arm and smiling at the two Shelby brothers as she leant against her front door, "I'll be seeing you both tomorrow then?"

"John, you head back to ours, I've got some shirts to pick up that Imelda was tailoring for me," Tommy told his brother, looking Florence up and down.

"Why don't you just get them in the morning?" John asked in confusion.

"Because I want to be safe in the knowledge that my shirts are hanging up where I need them," Tommy sighed in frustration, "Good night, John."

"Alright then, good night," John smiled at them both, walking back towards the Shelby home.

"Are you going to invite me in then?" Tommy asked the girl, stepping towards her and closing the fab between them.

"That depends," Florence smirked, keeping her back to the door as she slotted her key into the lock.

"On what?" Tommy whispered, trailing his hand up her arm.

"Whether you'll be staying once you've collected the shirts?" Florence answered.

"Do you want me to stay?" Tommy replied.

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't." Florence grinned.

"Good," Tommy muttered, resting his hand against her back as he used his other hand to push the door open, leading her backwards into the house, "I assume your mother is asleep in her bedroom."

"Indeed," Florence nodded as she felt Tommy's fingers lingering on her waist, guiding her towards the wall as he gently kicked the door shut, ensuring that it was locked, "So you'll have to be quiet."

"I can do quiet," Tommy smirked, letting his lips linger on her neck.

"Good," She returned, interlocking her hand with his and leading him up the stairs he had used countless times since returning from France.

They reached Florence's bedroom, which didn't have much to offer except a double bed, chest of drawers and a bedside table littered with books, cigarette packets and makeup. Florence heard Tommy close the door behind her as she trailed over to the window, drawing the curtains closed as Tommy's arms trailed around her waist.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was not being able to touch you all evening?" Tommy muttered, gently tugging at the collar of her dress and pressing a kiss to her shoulder, before pulling back her hair and continuing to trail kisses up towards her jaw.

"There's a solution to that," Florence whispered as Tommy continued trailing kisses back down towards her shoulder as his hands began their work unbuttoning the back of his girl's dress.

The heavy green fabric slipped from her shoulders and slid it down her arms, letting it fall to the floor and pool around her ankles. She turned to face Tommy, kissing him slowly as she slipped his jacket off of his shoulders, tossing it onto the chair with his cap, running her hand through his hair.

She let her thumb trail over his bottom lip before she began unbuttoning his waistcoat followed by his shirt, the way she did when most of their nights ended this way. Her hands roamed his chest as Tommy's hands landed on her waist as he tugged her closer, a gasp escaping her lips as she smiled into his kiss.

The pair stumbled back towards the bed, Tommy turning around at the last moment so that Florence's back hit the mattress, allowing him to hover over her. He proceeded to trail kisses down her neck, passing her collarbone as he continued to pepper kisses along her sternum, the woman's body igniting under his touch.

He continued to kiss down the length of her stomach, tugging at her underwear and discarding it somewhere in the room before turning his attention to her thighs. He paid great attention to the way her body reacted as he left kisses along the soft skin.

"Thomas," Florence muttered as he continued to tease her with kisses, "Stop fucking about."

"You want me to stop fucking about, huh?" Tommy smirked as she stared back at him in frustration, until she felt him thrust two fingers inside her, her knees buckling as he continued to work his fingers where she was most sensitive, "How's that?"

"Good," She muttered, screwing her eyes shut as Tommy's fingers continued to work on her, "Really good."

"Florence," Tommy replied firmly as she felt her body readying itself to unravel, "Look at me."

"Thomas, I-"

"I will stop if you don't look at me." Tommy answered, slowing down the movement of his fingers as her eyes fluttered open, meeting his piercing blue eyes.

"I don't want to finish like this," Florence told him through irregular breaths as Tommy stared back at her.

"Well, what is it that you want?" Tommy asked calmly, as though he wasn't working her to orgasm with his fingers.

"I want you to fuck me," She answered bluntly, fuelled by a desire to feel all of him, the way it had been most nights over the last few months.

"Good," Tommy nodded, removing his fingers from her, licking one clean, but before he could do the same with the other Florence reached for his wrist, pulling his hand towards her, wrapping her lips around his finger, swirling her tongue around it and clearing up the mess she had left behind, watching the smirk that crept onto Tommy's face as she did.

"Miss Dawson, we're more alike than I had thought," Tommy muttered as she sat up on the bed, Tommy kneeling over her, "Seems you enjoy mixing business with pleasure."

"You're right," Florence smirked, kissing him slowly, "And now I want to go for a ride."

"Is that right?" Tommy's eyes flicked between her eyes and mouth.

"I don't recall stuttering, Thomas." She answered softly, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down from her body as Tommy sat on the bed, allowing his girl to climb onto his lap.

She lowered herself onto him, her body melting into his at the touch of his tip inside of her. As she lowered herself into his lap the way she had many times a gasp escaped her lips. She tightened around him, watching pleasure creep onto Tommy's face as she placed her hands onto his shoulders, slowly grinding against him as she fell back into a rhythm she felt comfortable with.

Their breaths became tangled, sweat lacing their skin as Tommy's hands found their way to Florence's neck, his lips meeting hers as they kissed messily and hungrily.

Tommy let his hand wander down between them, touching Florence where she was most sensitive, a whimper escaping her lips, sweeter than any sound a musician could play him, "Flo, quiet, remember?"

"Yes," Florence nodded as she felt Tommy's fingers circling against her nerves as she continued rocking her body against his, watching his jaw clench as she could tell he was close to unraveling just as she was. There was only one thing that could weaken Tommy Shelby, the touch and the love of a woman like Florence.

In a moment of impulse Tommy fell back onto the bed, taking Florence with him as he rolled them over, watching as she continued to unravel under her touch.

"I forgot that you can only go so long without being in control," Florence whispered as her body arched against his as she interlocked their hands, her limbs beginning to tremble as Tommy felt himself edging closer too.

Tommy watched the way her face changed as she silently let go of control, letting her body unravel as he did the same. Tommy hadn't felt about a person like that since before the war, in fact he wasn't entirely sure that he had ever felt that way.

He feared the man that a feeling like that could make him if he let it run wild inside him, if he let himself think with his heart just once. He imagined that things might be different if he did, that he would be happy to let the world know how he felt about Florence Dawson.