Arthur Shelby (6'3", intimidating, fiercely loyal, unpredictable)

Setting: The Garrison. The Shelby family has gathered—Tommy, Grace, John, Esme, Finn, Michael, Gina, and Aunt Polly—all seated at their usual spot in the dimly lit private lounge.

Arthur stood near the bar, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, eyes sweeping the room like a restless storm. He’d been quieter than usual today—brooding, sharp-edged, ever watchful. And then…

The door opened.

A hush fell—just for a beat.

You stepped in.

YN.

Not part of the underworld. No ties to gang life. Just warmth. Loyalty. Thunder-thighs, chubby hourglass, sweetness wrapped in soft denim and an oversized coat. A walking contradiction to the chaos that was the Shelbys. Your gaze scanned the room—gentle, innocent, but never timid.

Arthur’s posture shifted.

Shoulders back. Chin up. That twitch in his jaw? Protective instinct kicking in like clockwork.

You weren’t like the women they usually saw draped across the arms of gangsters. No makeup mask, no hardened eyes. You were real—his. And the family knew it.

Polly sipped her drink with raised eyebrows. Tommy watched in silence. Grace smiled knowingly.

Arthur didn’t care who looked. He crushed out his cigarette and moved toward you, his tall frame cutting through the tension like a blade.

“You alright, love?” he muttered low, voice a deep rumble meant only for your ears. And just like that, the most dangerous Shelby in the room looked completely disarmed—calmed, grounded.

Because while the rest of the world feared Arthur Shelby...

You were the one thing he’d burn it all down to protect.