#clara shelby
Text
Mirrors
Summary: It’s 1922 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. John was used to Clara preferring Tommy, but there was a space between Clara and their brother now that Grace had returned. John wondered if it was the big, drafty halls out in Warwickshire setting a coldness into their interactions. He didn’t know for sure, but he did know that there was more space between Clara and Tommy now than there had ever been on Watery Lane. There seemed to be very little space between his sister and his wife though, something that bothered John more than he cared to admit, the conspiratorial dynamic mirroring what had once existed between Tommy and Clara.
Request (from @cas-kingdom): “What do you need?” “You.” would be totally adorable for John & Clara. Congrats on 4 years of LLB!!
(Note: this is the second story based on the same prompt because both ideas bit me and I couldn’t let go.)
Characters: John Shelby, Esme Shelby, Elias Shelby, and Clara Shelby
Content Warnings: nothing much, I think.
Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️
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—
John allowed a good natured roll of his eyes as the front door eased open. The damn thing had creaked from the very day he and Martha moved in. John could’ve fixed it easily, but after all this time, he decided he liked the familiarity of it. He didn’t mind his brothers joking that John did not lock his doors because the creaking was so loud it would alert him of any intruders. It reminded him of Martha and it did serve as a sort of warning, especially in the quiet of an emptied out house.
As he heard the sound now, John wondered which of the kids would be coming back through to intrude on his peace. One of them must’ve forgotten something—that wasn’t a surprise. A favorite toy, a hat, a shoe…John wouldn’t be surprised whatever it was. Especially if it was Katie. John was quite certain that little girl would lose her head if it wasn’t properly attached.
She mirrored her Uncle Finn in that way—a little scattered, always on the bloody move. John thought he could see a bit of his brothers and sisters and himself reflected in each of the kids and some days, on coming home to the raucous bunch, he was reminded of his childhood in the best and the worst of ways. And even though John was their father, he felt almost as if he simply melted into their dynamic. Some days, it was a relief to lose himself in his children—to pass a few hours being silly and carefree. But other evenings, it was too much to come home to the familiar attitudes and behaviors, little copies of the trying family members he’d spent all day dealing with.
Days like that—days like today—Esme took them all out of the house to give John time to decompress after arriving home for the shop. Like a premonition, Esme always seemed to know, even without John realizing he needed it.
But he did need it.
Some days depending on what he was tasked with, John just needed a moment to come back to himself before being with the kids, to let all the other stuff fall away, to be reminded that the family dynamics he’d grown up with didn’t have to be the same ones he raised his kids with. That the traits his kids had gotten from the rest of the Shelbys were just that—traits. His frustrations with his brothers and his aunts had no need of being taken out on his kids...on his wife.
John knew it, but he wasn’t always aware of it creeping in. Esme always seemed to sense it better than he did. She knew when her husband needed to get himself straight. She never called attention to it though, always able to make up some perfectly reasonable excuse for why all of the children needed to come with her and leave the house empty for a bit even if it was just before dinner time. Even if it was not remotely convenient for her or the kids.
And there was something about Esme’s way that those kids, the ones who always had a million protests and questions…they never questioned it when she announced they were going out. They didn’t back talk to her the way they might to John. It was like she held some sort of magic over them all. John thought sometimes maybe she did.
Esme Shelby Lee certainly had him in a thrall, anyway.
They’d only be gone for half an hour, but that would be time enough. John took a sip of his drink, still sitting in his chair at the kitchen table as he waited for whoever it was to come back through. Sarah, he hoped. John figured he could handle his oldest daughter for just a few minutes.
Yes, he decided. He far preferred it to be Sarah coming through the door. He couldn’t handle any of the other children just now—not Katie, who was a bit like Finn, or Joey, who was somehow both a bit of Tommy and a bit of Arthur at the same time, and certainly not Robbie, who was too much like John. Thankfully, the baby wasn’t like much of anyone yet, not discernibly anyway, but he knew his infant wouldn’t be crawling through the door.
John took another sip of his drink as careful footsteps sounded in the front room. He knew it wasn’t just the time alone but also the glass of whiskey that eased the day’s tensions. Somewhere along the line, he’d convinced himself it helped. He’d convinced himself he needed it.
John called out before the kitchen door swung open. “What do you need—”
He started as his sister came through the door, still in her school uniform, looking like she’d run the whole way there from the other side of Birmingham. “Oh—Clara. Uh…Esme’s out with the—”
Clara shook her head. “No,” she choked out, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the bag of school books fell to the floor. Her eyes were rimmed red with tears and John realized she wasn’t just out of breath from running here.
“Alright,” John shifted in his chair. “What do you—?”
“You. John, I—” The words came out hard, like whatever she intended to say really was a need and not a want. As Clara’s voice devolved into a sob, she became incoherent to her brother, whatever else she had been about to tell him lost in the tears and uncontrollable breathing. John had not a single clue as to what it might have been his sister needed, what she was trying to tell him. It usually frustrated him a bit, having to guess at whatever Clara wasn’t saying and lately, Esme had been taking over where Clara was concerned. Esme understood her better. He figured it was a female thing.
He’d grown used to his sister showing up unannounced or inviting herself over for dinner or for a long weekend. Most of the time, she was looking for Esme, but she’d been spending more time with them in general—with him, and Esme, and the kids. Clara and Esme had formed a certain bond though, a bit of a conspiratorial relationship that John didn’t wholly understand or particularly enjoy. There were secrets between his wife and his sister that he wasn’t comfortable with them having though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the details. Esme often informed him that what she and Clara talked about wasn’t any of his business, anyway.
John let it be. He tried for acceptance, but he would’ve been lying if he said it didn’t bother him just a bit—the conspiratorial dynamic mirroring what had once existed between Tommy and Clara and making him a little jealous that his sister seemed to be closer with his wife than him these days.
John was used to Clara preferring Tommy, but there was a space between Clara and their brother now that Grace had returned. John wondered if it was the big, drafty halls out in Warwickshire setting a coldness into their interactions. He didn’t know for sure, but there was more space between Clara and Tommy now than there had ever been on Watery Lane.
And it still hadn’t seemed enough for Clara. She filled her time with finding excuses to be away from Arrow House, passing her weekends with John and Esme when she could manage it, but John wasn’t expecting her at his place now—not for a few hours, at least.
She should’ve been across the city in a classroom still. Or maybe, she should’ve been just about to head over to the office down on Jamaica Row. Someone was probably waiting on her at the school.
A Blinder.
The high and mighty King Thomas, himself, maybe.
It didn’t quite matter who was waiting on Clara though because she was here, in John’s kitchen, sputtering on the other side of the room. Whatever tension that had been clinging to John, the tension that had had Esme taking the kids out within a minute of him passing over the threshold eased. John’s mind stopped working to figure his sister out, to make sense of her sudden presence, deciding it didn’t quite matter. He stood up and crossed the kitchen to pull Clara against his chest.
Clara held her brother tight, immediately shifting so her arms were clinging onto him.
“Alright. It’s alright,” John soothed. Part of him wished she’d loosen her hold on him just a bit, but he didn’t moan or try to shift her any, letting her take what she needed for as long as she wanted.
John eased his hold when Clara started to pull away, lifting her arm to wipe at her face while she leaned her head against his chest.
“Does Tommy know—?”
“I don’t care,” she mumbled. “Tommy can fuck off.”
John snorted. “Don’t want to get on your bad side, eh?”
Clara pushed away from John and shoved her elbow into his side.
“Oi! Knock it off!” he huffed, pulling Clara back to his chest and settling her in a gentle headlock. “Thought you wanted me.”
Clara sighed. She tugged his arm down and settled against him once again. “I do.”
“Be nice then,” John mumbled. He placed a kiss on Clara’s head.
Clara took a deep breath, her eyes trained on the floor as she scuffed her feet against the well-worn hardwood. “I want to come home.”
John settled his hand on his sister's head. “You are home, Clara.”
His house was as good as hers, the way he saw it. She certainly spent enough time there.
“No, John.” Clara shook her head against him. “I want to be back for good. Back on Watery Lane.”
John hummed, but the sound was neutral—more of an acknowledgement than anything else. They both knew it wasn’t up to them, either one of them. Tommy said where Clara went. He said where she rested her head and where she learned her sums and where she was employed. The arrangement wasn’t documented or official, but it was good as law as far as they were all concerned. For years and years, it had been that way.
“What’s brought this on?” He asked.
“I just want to be here,” Clara answered. “I can help with the kids and—”
“There’ll be a kid at Arrow House you can help with soon enough,” John said.
Clara shook her head. She’d already decided that Tommy and Grace would have no need of her help. They had already hired a full staff for the house, nanny and all. They’d have Mary look after Charles. And Clara was quite certain that Mary didn’t like her.
“Tommy doesn’t need me,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “He doesn’t want me…said he doesn’t need me at the office anymore. Doesn’t want me in the business anymore.”
“He said all that?”
Clara pretended to sift through her mind for Tommy’s exact words, though she remembered them very clearly. He’d been so short in his explanations, his decree that she was done working for now, but it hadn’t felt to Clara like Tommy’s heart was in it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Clara said. “She’s put him up to it…she thinks I need to be focused on my schooling….but I can do both. If he doesn’t need me downtown, I can work in the shop instead, can’t I? You could use me and I can stay here and help with the kids and—“
“Of course I could use you,” John said, knowing his sister was better with math than most of the other buffoons in the shop and that Esme would probably relish in having his sister to lend a hand with the kids, “but if Tommy says—“
“I don’t care what Tommy says. He’s not—“
“In charge of us?” John suggested, cutting her off. “I’m surprised he’s not here already to collect you and give us both a telling off.”
Clara deflated a bit. “Can’t you just tell him I’m staying with you? Just tell him you and Esme need me to sit with the kids tonight?”
“Yeah, and are you actually going to sit with them?” he asked.
“I can…if you want,” she said, the volume of her voice lowering as she continued. “But maybe you and Esme want to stay in? I’m sure the kids would like it.”
John hummed. “Yeah, the kids would like it, sure.”
It wasn’t as if Clara’s words were untrue. John knew his kids would love a night in with their parents and aunt as Clara suggested, but there was more to it than that. It was Clara who wanted her brother close. It was Clara who wanted a night on Watery Lane, insulated from the rest of her world by her brother and sister-in-law and nieces and nephews.
“Can you talk to him?”
John sighed, nodding despite himself. “But if he wants you home, I’m not fighting him. It’s not worth it, alright? If he puts up a fight, you go on for the weekend and you can come to us next week as planned.”
Clara nodded, “And working in the shop?”
Clara let the question linger, cutting
“If you sort things with Tommy…” Clara cut into her brother’s thoughts as she heard the front door creak open, hoping it wasn’t Tommy coming to find her. “I’ll sort our dinner tonight…”
Esme came into the kitchen with all five children in tow. She plopped the baby in John’s arms and handed the bag of groceries to Clara before lowering herself into the chair and running her hands over her swollen belly.
“If your sister’s offering to cook me dinner, you do whatever she wants, John.”
John had no desire to get between his brother and his sister. He had enough disagreements racked up with Tommy without counting Clara’s concerns, but John could tell she needed it. She needed to feel someone was on her side, hearing her, listening to her. He knew what it was to feel like no one was listening. And he wasn’t sure Tommy would listen to him, but Polly might. He figured she might be willing to talk to Tommy. And Tommy might be willing to listen if it was Polly’s voice he was hearing.
And now that Esme was involved, it didn’t seem he had much of a choice in the matter anyway.
“Your mother’s said her piece. I guess we’d best go make a few phone calls for your auntie, eh, Eli?” The baby in his lap lifted a chubby hand and smacked it against John’s cheek. He went back for a second and third hit, laughter spilling from his little mouth, seemingly trying to move his father along.
“Alright, mate. Hold on,” John said, standing himself and the baby up and heading toward the telephone.
John paused just over the threshold. He could hear his wife and sister talking, Esme’s voice followed by Clara’s laughter.
Elias patted John’s face again, pulling his attention back to the task at hand.
“I’m going, I’m going,” John said as he continued away from the kitchen.
It would usually have set John a bit on edge, hearing his sister and wife start talking and laughing as soon as he was out of the room, but just now it eased something in John knowing he wasn’t alone in all of this. It was a comfort knowing that his wife knew not just what he needed, but what his kids needed, and his sister, too.
As John lifted the handset, waiting for the operator to connect, Elias cuddled into his father’s chest. John knew the boy had inherited his looks from the Shelby side, but as another bit of tension inside of him melted away at the baby's touch, John thought maybe the boy's intuitive, kind heart might mirror that of his mother.
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#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#john shelby fanfic#john shelby#esme lee#esme shelby#shelby sister#shelby!sister#little lady blinder#clara shelby#elias shelby#raise a glass to llb
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Peaky Blinders
Season 3 | Episode 6
#peaky blinders#peakyblindersedit#thomasshelbyedit#thomas shelby#cillian murphy#cmurphyedit#userbecca#dilfgifs#peakyblinded#userreh#userquel#underbetelgeuse#userrobin#ceremonial#weloveperioddrama#perioddramaedit#perioddramasource#userzo#user-clara#my gifs
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Used & Abused
Pairing: Dark Thomas Shelby x Reader
Warning: Non-Con, Smut
"Mr Shelby. It is good to see you again," your father said to the stranger who had, ever since you were there, working on the garments, come to the establishment to buy his suits and sample the prostitutes your father employed.
Thomas Shelby, as he was called, looked around and smiled, his piercing blue eyes twinkling with pleasure.
"Who shall it be for you today, sir? Clara or maybe Nadine?" your father offered, naming two of the most popular girls at the brothel.
But Thomas Shelby’s gaze had shifted to where you stood, sewing away at the corner – you weren’t used to be one of the girls on offer, but you were there today to learn the ropes, as your father had put it.
"What about her? Is she available yet for these kinds of services?" the man asked and it was like a bucket of ice had been dumped over your head. You felt your cheeks burning and your heart thumping.
You weren't ready for this, you told yourself. But then, you never would be. It was your first time and you had to start sometime.
"She's new, sir. But she's willing to learn. And she's young, as you can see," your father said, sounding like he was advertising a brand-new product.
"Well then, come here, Love. Let me have a look at you," Thomas Shelby beckoned you over, his voice deep and seductive.
You took a deep breath and walked up to him, feeling the weight of his eyes on you.
"You are quite the addition, aren't you, eh?" he said, taking in your figure and long hair.
You nodded silently, unable to find your voice.
"How old are you?" Thomas Shelby asked, as you stood there, trembling almost imperceptibly.
"I recently turned eighteen sir," you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
The man's eyes lit up at your answer, as if you had just confirmed something he had been suspecting.
"Eighteen, eh?" he said, his voice filled with innuendo. "And did you ever have a man's cock inside you before?"
The question took you aback, and you couldn't help but blush at the explicitness of his words. You shook your head, feeling your heart race.
"Well, then," he said, standing up from the chair he had been sitting on. "I think I'll be your first, eh?"
Your heart pounded even louder in your chest as he approached you, his movements confident and deliberate. You could feel your body tense up as you prepared yourself for what was about to happen.
"Mr Shelby, I do not think that she is quite ready for someone like you yet," your father interjected, but Thomas Shelby just waved him off.
"How much for two hours of her time, Thompson?" he asked, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet. "I am going to break her in for you, but I want to fuck her ass too," he added, as an afterthought.
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never even had vaginal intercourse before, let alone anal. But you knew that there was no turning back now. You had to do this, for yourself and for your family.
Your father, Mr. Thompson, hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded in agreement. "Two hours for two hundred pounds Mr Shelby," he said, holding out his hand for Thomas Shelby to shake.
Thomas Shelby took his hand and shook it firmly.
"Excellent. Now, why don't you show us to one of the rooms?" Thomas Shelby said, his voice commanding as he led the way.
You followed behind him, feeling your legs shake as you took each step. Your mind was racing, and you felt like you were about to be sick. But you knew you had to push through and do this.
When you entered the room, you saw that it was one of the most luxurious ones in the brothel.
It had dark wooden furniture, a plush four-poster bed swathed in velvet drapes, and gold-rimmed mirrors reflecting the room's opulence back onto every glossy surface. The rich scent of incense lingered in the air, providing respite from the bustling house outside.
You stood there, feeling out of place in the opulent surroundings. Your heart was racing, your mind was whirling, and your body was trembling. But Thomas Shelby didn't seem to notice.
He was too busy taking in every inch of the room with an approving nod.
"This will do quite nicely," he said, before turning his attention back to you.
You could feel his gaze on your body, and you shifted uncomfortably under his stare. "Come here, Love. Let me see what I've paid for."
You hesitated for a moment, but then you stepped closer to him, feeling your heart pound even louder in your chest. He reached out and traced his fingers down your arm, making you shiver with fear.
"Good girl. Now undress," Thomas Shelby said, his voice as smooth as velvet, and yet carrying the weight of an unspoken command.
You hesitated, swallowing hard. The thought of being naked in front of this stranger, of exposing yourself so intimately, made you feel incredibly vulnerable. But you knew that you couldn't afford to be timid. Not if you wanted to make it in this business.
Taking a deep breath, you began to unbutton your dress, moving slowly and deliberately, feeling his eyes on you as you did so. It was as though he was sizing you up, trying to determine your worth.
You wondered if you measured up to the other girls who worked in the brothel. Or did your naivety and youth make you more exotic, more desirable? You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you as you slipped your dress off your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground in a whisper of fabric.
You stood before him, barefoot, wearing only your undergarments.
"Such a pretty thing, aren't you, eh," Thomas Shelby said, his voice low and seductive.
He traced a finger across the satin of your bra, pressing gently against your nipple until it hardened under his touch. You couldn't help but gasp, feeling desire flood through your body. It was a strange and unfamiliar sensation, yet one that you found yourself craving more of.
"Now, let's get rid of these," Thomas Shelby said, gesturing to your underwear.
You hesitated for a moment, but then you reached behind you and unfastened your bra, letting it fall away from your body.
"Perfect," Thomas Shelby murmured, his gaze fixed on your breasts.
You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also strangely powerful, knowing that he was looking at you with such unabashed desire. And yet, you knew that this was just the beginning.
Thomas Shelby slipped off his jacket and tossed it aside, before unbuttoning his shirt and rolling up his sleeves, revealing the strong, toned muscles of his forearms. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you with a single stride.
"Undo my belt," Thomas Shelby said, his voice low and commanding.
You did as he asked, unfastening the buckle and tugging the leather free from the loops. Your hands trembled as you did so, and you felt a lump form in your throat.
His manhood was already erect, straining against his pants, and you couldn't help but feel a touch of fear creeping in.
"Now, Love, I want you to get down on to your knees for me," Thomas Shelby ordered, his voice firm.
You hesitated for a brief moment, but then you obeyed, sinking down onto the plush rug that adorned the brothel room's floor.
"Take out my cock," he then commanded and you gulped, your hands trembling as you reached for the zipper of his trousers, tugging it down.
Thomas Shelby's manhood sprang free, hard and imposing. You felt a wave of nervousness wash over you, unsure of what to do next.
Thomas Shelby must have sensed your apprehension, as he reached down to gently stroke your cheek.
"Don't be afraid, Love," he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. "Give it a little stroke," he said and you nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as you wrapped your fingers around his manhood, feeling its warmth and hardness. Thomas Shelby let out a low groan of pleasure, his fingers tightening in your hair as you began to move your hand up and down.
"That's a good girl," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
Encouraged by his words, you continued to stroke him, feeling more confident as each moment passed.
Thomas Shelby, meanwhile, seemed to grow larger with each passing second, his manhood throbbing in your grip.
And then, he tugged gently on your hair, pulling you closer.
"Now, I want you to open your mouth," he instructed, his voice low and firm.
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then, you obediently parted your lips, your heart racing.
He guided his cock towards your waiting lips, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of panic. But you knew that this was part of your job, your duty to him. So, you closed your eyes as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth.
"Relax your lips, Love," Thomas Shelby instructed, his voice barely containing his desire.
You tried your best to comply, even as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.
You were overwhelmed and under-prepared.
"Keep your mouth open, Love," Thomas Shelby urged, his hips moving faster as he thrust his manhood deeper down your throat. "Nice and wide. That's it."
You tried to comply, but it was difficult. You were not used to this. You gagged and spluttered, tears streaming down your face, as he faced you with a passionately intense expression, his pupils dilated.
The sickening sound of your saliva echoed around the private room of the high-end brothel and you could not help but feel degraded.
Drops of clear salty pre-cum streamed from his swollen tip, as he pumped in and out of your mouth, commanding and selfish until, eventually, Thomas pulled himself out of your mouth with a satisfying "pop" and stroked himself as he watched you.
You tried to stand up, but he held onto your shoulders, practically pinning you to the floor.
"Where are you going Love?" His eyes were wild with desire.
"Suck it, go on," he said as he pushed his hips towards your face, forcing you to return to your given task as you watched some more pre-cum ooze from the head of his manhood.
With your hands now wrapped around his thighs, you began to weave your tongue arround the engorged head of his cock and slowly began to move your mouth up and down, following his rhythm.
Thomas groaned with pleasure.
"Oh, yes. Just like that Love. Take it in deep," he panted as he guided your head forward, encouraging you to pick up the pace.
Your head bobbed up and down, his pubic hairs tickling your nose as you swallowed more of him inside of you.
You felt a strong surge of disgust and humiliation, but you suppressed it, fearing the consequences.
Thomas's grip on your shoulders tightened and he pushed himself further into your mouth. You fought the urge to choke, your mouth opening wider to accommodate his length. The feeling of salty wetness on your tongue grew more frequent, and you could hear his breaths quickening, becoming more shallow and erratic.
"That's enough," Thomas finally said, pulling out of your mouth with a pop.
You fell back onto the plush rug, breathing heavily, your lips feeling sore and swollen.
"It is time for me to fuck that virgin cunt of yours now, eh," Thomas said, his voice a low rumble.
"So take off your panties and lie down for me, Love, and spread those lovely legs so I can get a proper look at you," Thomas Shelby instructed, with that same damn smirk on his face.
You nervously obliged, sweat glistening on your brow, as you slowly slipped out of your lace underwear. The sensation of the plush rug beneath you only amplified the vulnerability you felt as Thomas Shelby's gaze roved over every inch of your naked body.
You tried to shrink yourself, to make yourself smaller so as not to draw attention to the parts of yourself that made you feel exposed and raw. But, still, his attention lingered on those very places, stripping you down even further.
"Lie down I said," Thomas repeated firmly, breaking through the spell.
You did as he told, scooting back onto the bed and reclining against the plush headboard.
Thomas Shelby climbed onto the bed as well, settling himself between your legs.
You could feel your heart hammering in your chest as he gently pushed your knees apart, fully exposing yourself to him for the first time.
Looking down at you, his eyes seemed to darken with desire as he took in the sight of you lying there naked and vulnerable before him.
"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he murmured, his voice full of gravel.
Holding himself up on one arm, he reached out with the other and traced a finger along the curve of your hip, watching as goosebumps broke out across your skin.
You shivered involuntarily, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement gallop through you.
This was it. There was no turning back now.
"I am going to have a look at your little hole now. Just to make sure that you are ready to be stretched out," Thomas said, pulling out a bottle of lubricant from the nightstand.
He uncapped it and poured a generous amount onto his fingers, the slick substance gliding easily between his digits.
You tensed up, closing your eyes, as Thomas approached your entrance. You weren't prepared for the pain. It burned as Thomas pushed his fingers inside you, opening you up.
His fingers explored your depth, thrusting inward and out, mimicking how he would soon take you entirely.
A streak of blood stained his fingers, betraying your innocence.
“So you are a virgin, eh,” Thomas murmured with a groan of sheer pleasure, withdrawing his finger before plunging it back inside of you.
"Your tight little cunt is already bleeding, just from being fingered," His grin grew increasingly wicked, his eyes devoid of apology or regret. Instead, he reveled in your helplessness – a youthful pawn to be manipulated and claimed by the wealthy gangster.
"I will need a lot of lube to get my cock in that little hole," Thomas declared nonchalantly before withdrawing his finger and wiping it clean on the sheets.
He reached for the bottle of lubricant and poured a generous amount on his manhood, making sure to coat it thoroughly. You winced at the sight, taking in your newfound reality.
"Don't worry, Love, I know it's a big cock, but it will fit, just take slow and deep breaths," Thomas reassured you, his flashy confidence beating down on you.
He shifted his position, guiding himself towards your entrance.
"Don't fight me, alright?" Thomas asked, his voice thick with lust and anticipation. He didn't wait for an answer before he pushed forward, his manhood breaching your walls and causing you to cry out in pain.
"Jesus Love, you are tight," Thomas grunted, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he buried himself deeper inside you.
You felt a burning sensation as he filled you up entirely, your body not used to the intrusion. You bit your lip hard, trying to stifle your cries of discomfort.
Thomas paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size. But then, his instincts took over, and he started to move.
"Fuck, let me have a look at this hole now," he eventually grunted, pulling out and shifting backward.
He brought his swollen, slick manhood into view, before leaning back in and finding your entrance again. Pushing himself inside, he winced at the tightness of your young body - the heat of it clenching around him, as if holding on for dear life.
You let out an involuntary whimper as he thrust into you, your fragile frame protesting the intrusion. Thomas was relentless, though. Driving his manhood mercilessly, over and over with deep, powerful thrusts.
Kneeling in between your open legs, he could watch his cock vanish into your body, reappear, and repeat the process until satisfied.
Your torn opening welcomed him, blushing red and dripping. He liked that you looked tender and abused, the way his movements had marked you.
He wondered if thoughts had occurred to you, even once, about changing your mind about this line of work. But it was far too late for that.
He leaned back, staring at your stretched out body beneath him.
Your breaths came out ragged, muffled sobs that somehow turned him on.
You were a novelty to him, a conquest in the form of a vulnerable young woman.
Streaks of blood painted his manhood, leaving no doubt that he had successfully claimed his prize. Your body shook with sobs, the pain of your first time magnified by the size of him. It wasn't a pleasurable experience, not like the stories whispered between girls in hushed, excited tones. It was a violation, a forceful claiming.
"Fuck, Love, you feel so good around my cock," Thomas grunted, his voice syrupy with lust.
His hips moved like a mediocre piston machine, the searing pain between your thighs making it difficult for you to breathe.
You bit down on your bottom lip, tears streaming down your cheeks.
The headboard knocked against the wall harshly with every thrust and your heart raced like a fugitive.
You closed your eyes, shutting out the image of Thomas looking triumphant between your spread legs.
You were in too much pain to say anything, your entire body stiffening under his touch as tears streamed down your cheeks.
You could hear the wet sounds of him ravaging you, the scent of sex permeating the air.
He gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he moved rhythmically, his every thrust jarring you to the core.
It burned to be ripped open like this, your body unused to the violent invasion until, suddenly, he pulled out and reached for the lubricant again.
"Turn around now, Love, and get on your hands and knees," Thomas instructed you, his voice hoarse with lust.
You hesitantly complied, your heart pounding in your chest as you positioned yourself on the bed, your bottom sticking up in the air.
Thomas didn't waste any time, pouring more lubricant onto his slick manhood and rubbing it in.
"Nice and slow, Let me in," Thomas said, his voice a desperate whisper.
Without warning, he guided himself towards your exposed rear this time, the head of his manhood pressing against your tight entrance.
"Relax, Love," Thomas whispered. "It'll hurt less if you do."
You took a deep breath, trying to relax your muscles as Thomas slowly pushed himself inside you. The sensation was intense and foreign, a new kind of fullness that made you clench up despite your best efforts.
Thomas groaned as he entered you, his rhythm slow and steady.
"Fuck," he muttered while you choked back your tears. "You're so tight, so fucking tight."
The aching sensation burned within you as Thomas thrust deeper inside. Your knuckles were white from gripping the sheets, but you focused on the pain to keep yourself grounded in reality. His hands dug into your waist, pulling you back with each forward motion, creating a brutal rhythm you'd never imagine could exist in the world.
Thomas was completely consumed by the animalistic need to dominate. He ignored the sound of your ragged breathing and tears on your pillow. Why someone chose to put their penis into one's anus was always a mystery to you, but you supposed that some people just had certain tastes. And Thomas Shelby seemed to have quite the acquired taste.
"Oh, fuck. You have no idea how good this feels," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to thrust in and out of you.
With each movement, you could feel yourself being stretched even further, your body protesting as Thomas took what he desired.
"It's almost over Love,"
Thomas grunted as he picked up his pace, the headboard battering against the wall with a loud thud, threatening to break free from its hinges.
You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to focus on anything but the burning pain inside your bowels.
Thomas's breathing grew labored, his movements more urgent as he chased his release.
"Yes, Love! I'm going cum!" Thomas called out, grabbing onto your hair and giving it a firm tug. "Deep inside your bowels," he growled, emptying himself into you with a shudder.
You could feel him pulsating deep inside of you, filling you up with his warm release. Your body felt battered and bruised, a testament to the brutal invasion it had just endured.
Thomas slowly pulled out of you, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. You could feel him slip out of your body, leaving behind a gaping void.
You immediately collapsed onto the bed, your entire body trembling as tears of pain and humiliation continued to stream down your cheeks.
"Let me see, Love," he demanded, his voice still thick with desire. He reached between your legs, roughly spreading your cheeks apart, examining his work.
You couldn't help but let out a pitiful sob, feeling disgust and shame rising within you.
Thomas ran his fingers over your rear entrance, causing you to wince, before slowly pushing slowly pushing his fingers inside, causing you to whimper.
"See, it's not so bad, now is it?" Thomas said, his voice dripping with false concern as he collected some of his cum from inside your anus.
He sighed contentedly, savoring his conquest as he withdrew his finger and brought it up to your lips.
You recoiled as he first made contact, but he grabbed your chin and forced his finger into your mouth, smearing your cheeks and mouth with his cum.
"Such a dirty little girl," Thomas murmured, his deep voice reverberating through the room. He continued his assault on your senses, tracing your lips with his cum, forcing you to taste him, making you accept what had happened between you two.
"I will be back tomorrow for some more," he then announced, his voice full of satisfaction as he stood up and began dressing.
#cillian murphy x y/n#tommy shelby#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x reader#peaky blinders#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby smut
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John + Solomons!sister thoughts:
This chaotic woman babysitting his kids. At this point all of them call her "Aunt y/n" ❤️. The thing is she can't control herself so, she's telling them a story but in the same way Alfie did with her (can you imagine Alfie telling bed stories to his little sister? 🫠) Well, so, she's telling them something like: "then the princess, who was in the fucking castle, was forced to marry this man . He was a cunt! A fucking cunt..."
And in that moment John returns, and he's wtf! 🤷♀️. That's not the kind of language to use in front of his kids! But they're so happy listening to her that in the end he let her finish the story 😂. Probably he joins his kids, too.
The Runaway (Partners in Crime AU)
John Shelby x Y/n Solomons
GIF credit @alicent-targaryen
Read previous part Shots Fired
John sat in pensive silence, hands clasped in his lap as his older brother’s shadow passed over him threateningly. He felt like a child waiting for punishment, but no one could make him feel worse than the condemnation that came from within. His mind had been on your disappearance all day.
“What the fuck were you thinking, John?” Tommy said pacing the floor as he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly.
“I swear it wasn’t my idea, Tom. You know what she’s like,” John protested.
Tommy stopped in front of a chair, fingers curled around the back tightly as he glared at his brother, “Is that what I’m supposed to tell Alfie?”
John looked away in defeat, shoulders hunched. Why did you have to be so bloody stubborn, he wondered, anger bubbling up inside of him. When he’d gone to check on you yesterday, the nurse told him you’d discharged yourself hours earlier. He’d flown into a rage, overturning the bed and table until she handed him a letter between shaking fingertips, begging him to leave.
“Tell me once more,” Tommy insisted.
“Here, read it for yourself,” John answered with a huff. He fished the note from his coat pocket and tossed it across the kitchen table. It was creased and torn at the edges from where he’d already read it many times over, trying to discern meaning from your cryptic words.
Tommy snatched it up, scanning the hastily scribbled writing and squinting in the dim light at your poor penmanship.
I couldn’t stay here. I have a personal matter to settle, but I’ll see you again in a familiar place when I'm done. I owe you a black eye and two kisses xx
“The fuck’s she on about, eh?” Tommy said, hurling the paper back at his brother. “What place?”
John simply shrugged, too exhausted to speculate.
Tommy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Were you two fucking? If so, you need to tell me now.”
John’s body pitched forward with a burst of laughter. “Oh, fuck off, Tommy!”
Growing irritated Tommy stormed out, calling over his shoulder, “Find Y/n, NOW! Before Alfie finds out about this!”
———————————————
Three weeks later…
“You won’t believe what happens next!” you tease out slowly, watching the little faces gathered around you.
“Does he find the princess?” Clara asked, clutching her teddy bear.
“Yes! But that’s not all! Cheeky bastard leans over for some heavenly bliss,” you said, kissing your hand to demonstrate dramatically.
The children shrieked and squealed before Katie piped up excitedly, “He kissed her?”
You nodded, “I mean…not a proper snog cause she weren’t awake. And, more importantly, girls, he didn’t ask! A lad’s gotta treat you with respect,” you reminded them with a wag of your finger.
“Can we please have another story after this one?” William interrupted, chubby hands pushed together pleadingly.
“You tell stories better than daddy,” Katie proclaimed with a giggle.
Following the sound of his children's laughter, John climbed the stairs quietly. His heart thundered in his chest as he strained to listen for the female voice he knew well. A thousand questions crossed his mind, but the relief he felt quieted them all as he caught a glimpse of you from the hall.
You shifted in the small bed to make yourself more comfortable, adjusting the sling that held your bad arm. “No, this is the last one. I’m cream crackered!” you said, stifling a yawn.
“Why do you talk funny?” Katie asked, her lisp adorably more pronounced.
“Why do you?” you countered defensively.
“I can’t help it, I’m missing my front teeth,” she replied sweetly, opening her mouth wide to reveal a wide gap.
You leaned forward to examine her, pinching her chin between your thumb and forefinger. Nodding thoughtfully you exclaimed, “Oh, right. Got a man down at the bakery who looks like you. He’s called Walter.”
“Is Walter getting new teeth like me?” Katie asked hopefully.
You furrowed your brow and shook your head, “No, I don’t think so.”
John leaned against the door frame watching you with his children. He was somewhat surprised to see this softer side of you, though he always knew you must have one. He watched the corners of your eyes crinkle into a smile as you continued joking with the children and he found himself smiling as well.
“I feel sorry for Walter then,” Katie said, big blue eyes looking up at you sorrowfully.
“No, don’t trouble yourself, love. He’s a right cunt,” you said matter-of-factly. "And a dirty little snitch as it turns out. Do you know what we do to them?"
John leaped forward. “Alright, bedtime!” he announced. “Y/n, can I speak with you?”
You looked up, realizing he was home. “So you finally found me,” you said with a grin. “Did you come for those kisses?” you teased as you rose to greet him, batting your lashes at him playfully. The children whooped in delight, jumping up and down as they watched both of you carefully.
“Bed!” John instructed, pointing for them to lie down. Guiding you out into the hall, he closed the door to their room and when you attempted to walk away from him, he pulled you back to him demanding, “Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“You speak to me like that again and it’ll be a black eye for you, understand?” you warned him.
“Alright, calm down,” he said, relinquishing his grip on your wrist. “I was worried,” he admitted in a quiet voice.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked down at your feet and nodded in understanding. “M sorry. Sabini’s men came looking for me at the hospital. I had to leave.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve taken care of it,” John said lowly.
Your eyes flicked up to his, a sudden spark lighting within you as you shook your head at him. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
John ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Fine, you don’t need me,” he said, pushing past you to take the stairs two at a time.
You followed after him into the kitchen where he was noisily opening cupboards to distract himself from your rejection.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m good at what I do so I don’t need my man to rescue me every time I’m in trouble, John."
“Oh, fuck off, Y/n!” he shouted, spinning around to look at you. "I may not be your man, but I'm still your partner. Why can't you trust me?” he asked, chest rising and falling quickly with his rapid heartbeat. You meant more to him than any woman had since Martha and he couldn’t understand why you insisted on shutting him out.
You stood staring at him, a lump in your throat in place of an explanation. Why were you like this? Was it years of working for Alfie or the fear of admitting you cared about someone? You couldn’t say. You’d never been good with words, but you had to try or this might be the end of your friendship.
“Look, I’m shit at telling people how I feel about them, alright? I learned everything I know about family from Alfie and you know what a numpty he is,” you let out a desperate laugh that fell flat when you saw John’s wide eyes staring back at you. “I couldn’t risk Sabini hurting you too. You’ve got kids to think of!” you said, eyes welling with tears. “I don't have anyone so it wasn't as much of a risk for me. You think I don’t trust you, but I’d fucking die for you, you arsehole.”
John exhaled the breath he’d been holding listening to you and rushed to embrace you, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got me. You’ve got all of us," he assured you as he stroked your hair gently. "Promise me you won’t do that again. I couldn’t lose you.”
You nodded against his shoulder, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand as embarrassment washed over you. John loosened his grasp on your shoulders and stepped back to give you space. Digging into his pocket, he bit his lip before offering a handkerchief. Looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, he attempted to lighten the mood. “If you’re going to come round more often to see the kids, stick to bedtime stories, yeah?”
You hiccuped out a little laugh asking, “No small talk?”
“Not if it’s about Walter,” he joked, looking away with a chuckle.
You blew your nose into the hanky as you mumbled, “Sleeping Beauty again, I reckon.”
John winced, “I hate that one.”
“Says the man who grabbed the tit of an unconscious woman,” you retorted playfully.
“How many times do I have to apologize for that? I did save your life that night you know!” John said, voice tinged with mild irritation.
A smile slowly began to creep over your face as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek softly, “Thank you, Barney.”
His bright blue eyes searched yours and found a sincerity he'd never seen before. “You’re welcome, alley cat," he whispered into the stillness of the night. His term of affection made you feel warm and comforted and for once you didn't feel like dismissing it with a joke or running away.
Read part 5 Plus One
#Peaky Blinders fanfic#Peaky Blinders imagine#John Shelby#John Shelby x solomons sister#John Shelby x reader#John Shelby x you#John Shelby x y/n
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a list of feminine names i’ve adored and complied over years . please note the names are from a variety of origins and it’s best to research , in accordance to naming your character appropriately .
A ⸻ alaia . aliya . adèle . adella . adely . adira . aellai . aera . aimée . alessia . alice . alisha . amal . amara . amina . amor . anais . angelique/angie . anita . antonia . anya . arden . arnela . arya . asia . aspen . audrey . aurelia . aurora . avery .
B ⸻ bella . bianca . blair . blanca . briar . brielle . brigitte . bristol . bruna .
C ⸻ calliope . calista . camille . carina . carmel . carmen . carmine . cassia . cataline . chantal . charlène . chelsea . cher . chérie . cheryl . cheyenne . chiara . chiasa . cindy . cecelia/celia . celina . céline . cipriana . clara . clare . claudia . cleo . clover . colette . cordelia . cornelia .
D ⸻ dahlia . daisy . danika . davina . delaney . denise . devon . diana . diane . dione . dominica . donata . donatella/donna . dulce .
E ⸻ eden . elara . eleonora . elle . elliana . éloise . emory . erica . esha . esmé . estela . ester . eve . evangeline .
F ⸻ faith . faiza . fallon . farrah . faye . fenna . florentina . francesca . francia .
G ⸻ gabriela . genevieve . giada/gia . giovanna . giselle . giulia . garcelle . grace . graziella . gwen .
H ⸻ hadiya . hafsa . halle . halima . harley . hazel . helen . hélène . hermosa . honey . hiba . hina .
I ⸻ iffat . iman . imani . imogen . inara . inaya . indiana/india . ines . irina . iris . isadora . isabel . isla . isra . italia . italina . ivory . ivonne . ivy .
J ⸻ jade . jamila . jasmine . joanna . jocelyn . joelle . jolie . jordana . jordan . josephine . jovi . juliet .
K ⸻ kajal . kalila . karina . katia . kennedy . kenya . kimberly .
L ⸻ labani . lacey . lavender . lavinia . leona . liberty . lisette . livia . london . lourdes . lilliana . lucia/luciana . luna . lydia .
M ⸻ mabel . madelaine . madeline . madina . maeve . mahima . malia . maisha . maiya . mariana . marisa . marisol . meghana/megan . melina . mercy . mia . milan . minka . monica . monique . montana . marjorie . michelle .
N ⸻ nadia . nadine . naisha . nannette . naomi . nara . naressa . natalya . natascha . naya . neelam . nisa . nikita . noelle . noemi . nyla . nicolette .
O ⸻ odette . onima . oparna . orion . olivia . olympia . ophelia . opal .
P ⸻ paloma . pandora . paola . pari . peony . pareesa . paris . paula . paulina . pearl/pearla . petra . peyton . piera . poppy . prairie . priscilla . priya/priyanka .
R ⸻ raquel . ravenna . rayne . regina . renata . renee . rhea . rima . rita . rochelle . romana . romina . romy . rosa/rosalia . rosella . rosie . rowan . ruby . river .
S ⸻ sabelia . sabine . safiya . sahar . santana . saorise . sasha . saskia . savia . saya . sayena . scarlet . selene . serena . serenity . shelby . sheridan . shannon . sienna . sita . sloane . sofia . soléa . soleil . sonia . soraya . sorcha . surina . sutton . svea . sylvia . summer . suzanne .
T ⸻ tahira . tamara/tamar . taryn . telese . trishna . thalia . thea .
V ⸻ valentina . valencia . vanessa . venice . venus . vera . verona . veronica . vienna . violet . vitöria . vivian/vivienne .
W ⸻ wahida . winona . whitney . wren .
Y ⸻ yadira . yael . yalina . yara . yasmina . yesenia . yuliana . yuri . yvette . yvonne .
Z ⸻ zahra . zaria . zhenya . zoya .
#*#* ── 🐝 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 . ⁞ writing.#writing help#name help#female name masterlist#name masterlist#rph#rpt#resources
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Immortal Beloved - A John Shelby/Vampire OFC Story.
Well, guys. It's happening. Kinda happening. Testing the waters, yep. We'll go with that. I'm not convinced it's any good despite my best efforts, so I thought I'd see what you thought by sharing the prologue. Who knows? You might love it and then I could feel a little much-needed cheer when I'm going through a bit of a black spot at present, but if not then I know I have to go away and work harder on it. Either way, your feedback matters to me, and I thank in advance those kind enough to leave it.
The story will differ slightly from canon here and there, as you will notice, but not so much that's unrecognisable. Slightly AU, shall we say!
Here we go!
Tag list - In the comments
Words - 1,956
Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!
Prologue
He stumbled, muttering cusses that fluttered off to permeate the silence of the night, rooting his feet as he straightened, pulling his overcoat around himself more. The cobbles underfoot already twinkled with a smattering of frost, the air thick with winter mist and pungent coal smoke, John feeling his pale skin tremble. The bitter December cold greeted him with her usual sting upon that night.
“Don’t get so pie-eyed that you don’t know what’s what, John. That goes for all of us.”
John Shelby wasn’t always the most proficient at following orders, especially when a bad business day had led to his arrival at The Garrison, a decision to sink nine whiskies one after the other and six pints, thus leading to him sitting there sloshed and grinning.
His troubles had been far behind him as he’d revelled in merriment, loudly championing to his cohorts exactly what he would like to do to Clara Bow, for instance, should he have the screen siren within his lustful clutches for long enough. He’d heeded Tommy’s advice to begin with, but on that day, the loss of over a grand thanks to a horse who should have lost, and a jockey with other ideas, his elder brother’s words of warning had fallen on deaf ears.
“Fucking Rasmussen’s,” he muttered, sniffing as he at least attempted to walk up Watery Lane in a straight-ish line. “Bastards can fucking try and ‘ave me, but they won’t. Fucking Geordie cunts.”
The Rasmussen’s, of the family Rasmussen, were a definite thorn in the side of anyone with the surname Shelby at that moment, the Newcastle criminal outfit currently making their presence known, and loudly. Barges that moved through the canal systems anywhere close to their areas within the north had been firebombed, their cargo sunk, Shelby bookmaking stands ransacked at the races, and threats to the family delivered with malicious intent; stay out of the north, or else.
The Shelby’s were not the type to simply back off, though. They were the type to be on their guard against any reprisal attacks, vengeance against the kind of Shelby retribution the likes of which had - after quite the bloodied brawl - sent the Rasmussen’s scarpering from a race meet in Derby two weekend’s past.
The family would not simply roll over and take the threat lying down, and neither would the Rasmussen’s. They were great in number, and where hand to hand strength lay, perhaps the most formidable in force that the Shelby’s had ever encountered. That strength did not seem normal, more deity gifted than naturally arising.
They bred ‘em hard as nails in the north, apparently.
As he staggered, lying down was exactly what John wished to be doing, once again standing to root his feet upon the slippery cobbles, looking up at a streetlamp which had begun to flicker slightly, the bulb then suddenly popping with an audible bang.
First assuming a stray bullet had been responsible, it was just the sobering shock he needed to quickly take stock, his sky-blue eyes scanning the darkened street for any kind of movement through the thick fog, drawing himself up taller as his hand automatically hovered over the gun nestled within his ever-present holster. Bang, bang, bang, another three streetlamp bulbs all shattered, plunging the lane into darkness, John feeling the effects of the whiskey diminish as his senses prickled on high alert.
He stood statuesque, his ears pricked, eyes still darting from left to right while his hand curled around the thick handle of the gun, primed, ready. They wouldn’t get the better of him, oh fuck no. He blinked, and a figure finally came into view a couple of hundred yards ahead, seemingly appearing from nowhere. He blinked again and saw that the woman dressed in white and stained with blood had moved again, John shaking his head in confusion.
It must have been the drink. People did not move from one side of the street to the other at such a speed, seemingly vanishing and appearing once more within a blink.
She appeared to be on high alert, John watching as she sniffed the air, a deep, foreboding rumble sounding through the night. He wondered whose dog was out at that hour, until it hit him; the growl was coming from her. It was a noise neither of human nor beast, an eerie, echoless reverberation, his heartbeat amping up a notch as he watched.
Another blink and she was once again moved, a tearing sound filling the air, followed by a shrill cry, gurgling noises, spluttering. Looking to his right, he witnessed the woman dragging a man who had been concealed within the shadows out into the street, her mouth clamped upon his neck. John stood motionless, his eyes widening as he viewed the scene, a cold snap of horror shocking his bones as he witnessed her yank the man’s head clean from his neck with frighteningly swift finesse.
His jaw began to tremor, his grip upon the gun in his hand tight as she walked to him, her fingers tangled in the black hair of the severed head she carried, a shock of crimson painting her chin and neck from where she had gorged upon the blood of the now lifeless, headless body slumped upon the cobbles.
“Who the...” he began as she halted before him, changing track. “What the fuck are you?”
Her lips curled into a smirk, holding the severed head aloft, blood and sinew dripping onto the ground below. “I am the one who saved you from Samuel Rasmussen. He waited for you.” Her head jerked back a fraction in the direction of the darkened lane. “Same as his three friends.”
The silken purr of her voice was so alluring, it almost overrode the fact that John stood so terrified, he honestly did not know what on earth to say next. Had he truly seen what he saw? Was this merely a whiskey hazed dream? Surely, he was about to wake with a start, a thumping headache accompanying the morning that followed such peculiar dreams, for this couldn’t be real.
Could it?
Dropping the head to the floor, her hand reached for him, John’s shaking grip upon the gun solidifying as he thrust his arm forth, attempting to press the barrel to her skull. He found himself disarmed faster than he could comprehend, the Webley revolver landing with a clatter upon the ground.
“Shhh,” she soothed, her enchanting eyes flitting over him, her long nails gently trailing his cheeks as she viewed him intently. “I mean you no harm.”
Studying her up close properly, it was then that he noticed them, the two long, pointed teeth in place of where her canines should have sat, the smooth white smudged with red. His heart pounded like a war drum, his entire body feeling light. The lithe muscles of his form pinched tightly in fear, yet a juxtaposing sense of calm seemed to swirl through him at her softly delivered words.
“You can trust me. I wish nothing more than to instil that within you.” What on earth was that accent? He couldn’t place it at all.
How exactly, he could trust a woman who had just decapitated a man with her bare hands after drinking his blood, he didn’t know, but he felt on an instinctual level that he could. Unless it was the whiskey. Whiskey, of course, had the power to lie.
The woman, though, seemed to be earnest in what she had told him, her nails stroking her cheeks as she studied him, her blue eyes flitting, taking him in. Oh, how she approved of what she gazed upon. He was magnificently handsome. Her nails stroked a hail of goose bumps over his alabaster skin, reaching his neck as she leaned forward, sniffing him. A contented sigh fluttered over her lips.
“Your blood smells like earth and fire, honey and dark orchids.”
What?
He frowned, perplexed, opening his mouth to speak. No words came forth. He was so overcome by her that speech was beyond him. It felt like she was pouring soothing waves of calm into him, and little did he realise, but he was correct. Her kind could transmit energies to humans in order to placate their fears.
Staring down at her, it struck him sharply, how much she didn’t quite look like she belonged there. Striking she was, with her milky skin that matched his own, her throat and chest covered in tattoos, symbols and swirls he didn’t recognise whatsoever. He knew tattooed ladies existed, but he was yet to witness one up until then, the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman smiling, her nails like sensual daggers upon his neck.
She was unlike anyone else he’d ever encountered, a woman of distinct enigma.
There was something about her that didn’t fit, decapitation and blood drinking aside. She looked as if she’d come from another time, a different age. This yanked at his interest almost as much as her allure, her pale skin seeming to glow beneath the light of the moon, now unincumbered by clouds as it shone its rays down upon them.
“You are perhaps the most beautiful creature I have seen in a long, long time.”
No, it was not he who uttered those words. It was the woman, her statement one of parting, John blinking and finding her vanished once more into the night. She’d left him breathless, with every hair on his body feeling like it was standing on end.
Vampires tended to have that effect on the living.
While the third youngest of the Shelby men made his way into their abode, the vampire moved at speed, perching herself atop the roof of one of the opposing back-to-back houses. The dark slate tingled against her bare feet, but being a creature of zero body heat unless she was sitting close to a source of warmth, it was of no bother to her.
She sharpened her senses to the night, listening intently to every noise, every rustle. A bottle rolled over and tinkled over the cobbles a few streets away, a gentleman a few further on than that regurgitated the many beers he’d sunk in a nearby pub into the gutter, too, but other than that, all was quiet.
Well, mostly all.
Within the homestead she had been watching over, she heard the brand-new object of her desire being berated by the woman named Polly, as she’d gathered. Closing her eyes, she saw the one she knew to be named John there in her mind, a throb reverberating through her. Goodness, how handsome he was close up, perhaps the most divine man she’d encountered in a while.
He carried himself with such pride and confidence, being a member of a notable criminal outfit, of course he would. A vampire of her age could tell so much more about a person, though, just by studying them, as she had with him and his family from the shadows. For all his acts of violence and authority, of which she had witnessed a couple, she sensed a man a little less ruthless than his elder brothers, with a heart a touch softer.
It was the softness within him that pulled her in the most.
She had gone there that night with the view of a single-minded agenda, only to encounter John Shelby up close for the first time and realise that her plight was perhaps not going to be quite as polarised as she’d first envisioned. Confident that the family were safe from any further acts of violent subterfuge, the vampire took one last look at the house.
“Until next time, beautiful creature.”
She was gone into the darkness within a blink.
#john shelby#john shelby fanfiction#john shelby x ofc#john shelby smut#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fic#john shelby fanfic#john shelby fic
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At the Cabaret Pt. 5 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character
Summary: Lady Lenore is back at the Cabaret and struggling to find her place there in her condition. She's still slowly recovering and with the help of her new partner, she learns how to heal. Cabaret is her first and only true love, is there room for more?
Warnings: Brief references to the previous sexual assault but no gory details. Discussions of sex and intimacy. Recovering from trauma, struggling with depression and probable PTSD. Sexism and objectification (less than in previous chapters). Outdated marital language and very binary. Brief mention of periods and blood at the very end.
word count: 2529k +
Sleep on The Floor- The Lumineers 🎶
I Want a Good Man- Annette Hanshaw 🎵
I'll Be Seeing You- Billie Holiday 🎶
Not proofed- sorry folks!
She went back to work the next day, still sore and uncomfortable. She wanted to get back, to put everything behind her. Her black eye was painfully obvious and she was still too sore to dance so she watched. She helped the younger dancers with their moves and waved away any questions about her eyes. Clara covered her acts and made a little extra which she needed. She sat in the audience during the performances, losing all the bad thoughts and memories in the glitz and glamor onstage. She had a small table to herself towards the back and wore normal clothing, hiding her in plain sight. She ordered rums and cokes and smoked heavily.
Towards the end of the night, she heard someone sit beside her and rounded on him. When she looked, it was Tommy. He took off his hat and placed it on the table beside him and sniffed.
“You know you shouldn’t be back at work.” He said below his breath and stole her glass of rum and coke.
“I’m not performing.” She answered softly. “I just wanted to watch.”
They sat in silence, watching as Clara stripteased the audience. She smiled despite herself and looked over to make fun of Tommy but found that he was looking directly at her, his eyes wild in the soft lighting.
“Come home with me, Lenore.” He said seriously.
“What do you mean?” She swallowed nervously. He took a deep breath and looked back at Clara, his eyes unfocused on her as he thought of Lenore.
“Be my wife.” He said nonchalantly and lit a cigarette, staring down at the lightened end. She ran her fingers through her hair and chuckled softly.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Try me.” He turned to her with the dare.
“You want to marry me, Tommy?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Yes, I do.” He nodded and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I want to marry you, Lenore.” He said again and leaned in closer. “I’ll make you happy and I’ll look after you. I’ll be a good husband.”
“But do you love me?” She whispered breathlessly.
“Are you going to make me say it?” He sighed.
“Yes.”
“Ah, Lenore... I love you.” He said slowly in his serious, deadpan way of talking. She blushed and leaned in hesitantly, wanting to kiss him. He responded and kissed her slowly, his lips sucking against hers. She was breathless when she pulled away and caught him smiling a little.
“You’re smiling, Tommy.”
“Nonsense.” He continued to smile and put an arm around her shoulders. His suit smelled like Small Heath’s factories and coal. She rested her head against his neck and sighed. His hand stroked the skin on her arm and he rubbed his cheek against her hair.
“I’ll marry you under one condition.” She whispered.
“And what’s that?”
“You let me work for a little while longer.”
“I don’t love the prospect of having to share my wife with other men.” He grumbled and she smiled.
“Just up until we get married, ok?”
“Anything else?”
“No more whores.” She kissed his knuckle, still bruised from slamming them against the doors when she was assaulted by Kimber. He watched her quietly and licked his lips.
“No,” he shook his head, “no one else.” He kissed her head gently and pulled her closer. “No one but you, Lenore.”
…
After a week of rest she was able to go back onstage. It all still gave her a thrill to dress up and step out under the white glare of lights and eyes. Billy Kimber had assaulted the show-version of herself so each movement she exercised reminded her of his violation. She’d never thought of herself as a whore but stepping into the ring of light she realized she was a whore for the performance, for the audience, and for herself. It was a way to take Lady Lenore back from the bathroom floor. Tommy had come to every performance since he’d asked to marry her, taking Kimber’s old booth so whenever she looked over, instead of thinking of Kimber, she thought of Tommy and how much he loved her. He stayed and smoked his cigarettes and drank his whiskey until she was done and met her at the stage door like a true admirer, a single red rose held between his fingers like a school-boy.
She wore her engagement ring while she performed, basking in the waves of shimmery light that exploded out when the ring hit the spotlight.
“Sorry, boys!” She’d yelled, “I’m a taken woman now.” Tommy watched her with a smirk and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. The crowd had applauded more out of fear, eyeing Tommy Shelby in the nearby booth, than actual excitement. They were sad to be losing their favorite sweetheart, Lady Lenore. “Say, none of you boys should be imagining me naked now.” She teased with a pout. The audience laughed and whistled. She could see Tommy laughing, his wide lips drawn up into a rare, beautiful smile.
The problem, she’d discovered, was that she felt too vulnerable as herself when she was anywhere else. Lady Lenore could handle anything but she couldn’t be Lady Lenore when she was with Tommy. As much as she tried to hide it, she was scared to have sex with Tommy, with anyone. He hadn’t asked for it but she dreaded the day when he would. Yes, she wanted to fuck him but what if it reminded her of Kimber? What if she started to hate him? What if it hurt? What if she could never satisfy him? She didn’t want it to be a wound that never healed, scar tissue that caused problems later. She hoped that her love would be enough.
In her routines since her engagement she’d switched totally over into a singer. She no longer did strip teases or barely-there costumes. It was her message to Tommy, a way of telling him that she was his and his only. She stepped out in a bright turquoise dress with butterfly sleeves, dotted with pearls. The dress itself was short in a flapper style and decorated with matching turquoise feathers. Dancers escorted her on stage with white feathered skirts. She took the mic and swirled her long strand of pearls.
“Gee, you all look a little lonesome out there tonight. Don’t they girls?” She whipped around to her dancers and they pouted dramatically, flickers of naughtiness in their doll eyes.
“Can’t you do something ‘bout it?” She asked with a sly smile. The audience roared.
“Don’t worry, boys. We’ve got the fix!” She winked at the band who struck up “I Want A Good Man.”
Gee, I’m awful lonesome,
I need company,
‘Cause I’ve turned my sweetie down
For he’s been cheating on me
She flashed her ring and the audience laughed. The girls broke out into a racey number, in their feathered tutus.
If you crave endearing charms,
I can fill your empty arms
I wanna good man,
And I want him bad
She hugged herself and did a brief Charleston step. The girls switched sides on the stage and shimmied their jeweled chests at the audience. She bounced on her heels and acted with her hands, selling the song.
For love indeed
Is what I need,
Affection is my line
In my plea, for goodness sake,
Won't someone give me a break?
I wanna good man,
And I want him bad
The dancers ran into the audience and surrounded the stage, forming a small kickline. Their garters slid slowly down their legs to their ankles and then flew off into the crowd of excited men. When she looked over, Tommy’s eyes were still stuck to her as if there weren’t half naked women throwing their undergarments off. His pretty face stared back at her and she smiled wider, dimples appearing on either side of her mouth. The dancers rushed back on stage with feather fans and fluttered them behind Lenore’s head. She stretched out her white gloved arms and turned back to the audience.
The rest is up to us
Here I am, make up your mind,
Girls like me are hard to find
I wanna good man,
And I want him so bad!
The crowd applauded and the dancers scurried off stage to change into their next set of costumes. She followed them and found her chair at the dressing table, dropping into it with a relieved sigh. Lucy changed into her next costume and congratulated Lenore quickly with a kiss on the cheek.
“You were wonderful, Nore!” She squealed and hurried back out for Clara’s number.
“Thank you!” She called after her and smiled at herself in the mirror. She felt herself switching back into her normal self, residue anxieties manifesting once again, heavy on her heart. She sat like that until the dressing room emptied before she started to cry, holding her head in her hands. No matter how much she pretended to be fine, she had to fight this feeling of overwhelming filth. She felt filthy and naked whenever she wasn’t acting. It was a cruel loop that she couldn’t get out of. Tommy was one of the only men that she felt comfortable around anymore. She was healing and it was hard. The dressing door opened and Tommy walked in, closing the door behind him. He approached her slowly with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lip. He looked down at her, tears still staining her face and cocked his head slightly to the side before nodding.
“Come ‘ere.” He beckoned her over with open arms and she stood from the chair and wrapped her arms around his chest.
“Tonight is the last night, yeah?” He said smoothly and she nodded.
“No more.” She cried softly and he stubbed the cigarette out, one arm still wrapped around her. He rubbed her back and waited silently as she stopped crying.
As much as she loved Cabaret, it was clear that she needed more time away from the memories the room offered. He wiped the running makeup from her face and helped her change, fetching the last costume from the rack for her. It was a simple champagne colored dress that she wore with her hair pinned up. He trailed his finger down her bare arm but withdrew it when she shivered. She looked at his reflecting in the lighted mirror and took in the way his body looked beside hers. He was strong and full, sturdy, like a pillar in the wind.
"I love you, Tommy." She whispered to the reflection and he smirked shyly.
“You look beautiful.” Tommy whispered back. She nodded, tears already beginning to burn once again in her eyes. He slipped a warm hand around her waist and escorted her through the narrow hallway to the stage. She watched from the sidelines as Clara took her bows. She traded places with Clara and watched as Tommy went back to his seat at the booth, his arm strewn over the booth’s back. The audience whistled as she stepped up to the microphone.
“This is my last song for you boys. I'm retiring a bit early. It's a sad song and I hope it won’t break your hearts.” She smiled and nodded to the band. “I’ll Be Seeing You” began with a jazzy piano riff and a trombone whine.
I’ll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
She sang raspily into the microphone and squinted up into the moon glow of the spotlight.
I’ll be seeing you
In every lovely summer’s day
In everything that’s light and gay
I’ll always think of you that way.
She fought the tears in her sockets and smiled lovingly at Tommy, the one she wanted to hear these lyrics. God, she loved him. She loved him so bad that she felt a sharp magnetic pull, like their hearts were opposite poles, pulled together. The men in the audience reacted in different ways. Some looked sadly into their beer and others watched her, their mouths held slightly agape. Tommy watched her with his usual straight face and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it looked like he loved her. His head fell gently to the side as he smoked a cigarette, his eyes trained on her as she sang. She winked quickly.
I’ll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is newI’ll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you.
She repeated the last verse in a swelling voice that silenced the room and saddened her heart.
I’ll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is new
I’ll be looking at the moon
But I’ll be seeing you.
The trombone played the ending out with a sour flare and she bowed to the loud clatter of applause and whistles. She wiped a tear from her eye and smiled, waving goodbye. She blew kisses to everyone and stalked slowly off the stage. The dancers offstage wiped away their tears.
“That was so beautiful, Nore.” Clara whispered and dabbed her eyes.
“Did you mean that this was your last performance ever?” One girl asked.
“I’m done with Cabaret and I’m ready to move on. I’ll have a husband soon…” She tried to smile and followed Lucy down the hallway back to the dressing room. She changed back into her street clothes and exchanged heart-felt goodbyes with the dancers. When she pulled herself away from the powdery haze of the dressing room, Tommy was waiting outside in the alley, his peaky hat’s razor twinkling in the moonlight. When she emerged, he discarded his cigarette, dropping it into a puddle and slipped a hand around her waist.
“Did you like my song, Tommy?” She smiled as he held her close to his side.
“Sad.” He chuckled.
“Did it break your heart?”
“No, no.” She shook his head, “It's already been broken.” He looked down at her and pulled her into his chest, kissing her. She sighed and kissed him back, relaxing into the touch that she was starting to crave.
“Who broke your heart, Tommy Shelby?” She asked softly against his lips.
“The same girl who’s mending it.” He smiled slyly and they continued to walk. They hurried around large puddles of coal dust and got to the entrance of her building, the street side was covered in black coal like matte black paint. She stepped up on one of the rough cement stairs and stood on the falls of her feet so that she was face to face with Tommy. She gave him quick little kisses like pecs and hugged him around his broad shoulders. Kissing him, she remembered what she’d been meaning to tell him all day. She was too nervous to tell him before but as he held her waist loosely in his gloved hands, she felt safe enough to finally say it.
“Tommy, I have something to tell you,” she pulled away and placed her hands on each of her shoulders, looking into his dark eyes in the shadows.
“What?” He inhaled deeply.
“I bled yesterday, Tommy.” She whispered with a sincere smile. “I’m not pregnant.” She almost started crying again with relief. He seemed surprised by the news, not expecting it. After a few short moments, he nodded and took her hands in his. He cleared his throat and appeared to be fighting tears too but didn't let them show.
“Good, good," was all he could say as he smiled and kissed her long fingers, his nose brushing her engagement ring. He clenched his jaw and she pulled his face up to meet hers. They stared at each other for a while, unable to come up with words.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." She nodded emphatically.
“I know, Tommy.” She kissed him and held onto him tightly. He pulled away after a minute, kissing her forehead. “We can put that all behind us now. We’ll be married in another two weeks.” She reminded him and he smiled, starting to walk away.
“Hmmm, that so?” He called over his shoulder playfully.
"Its too late to back out now!" She called after him.
"Go to bed, Lenore!" He called back and crossed the street, his long black coat swaying with each step.
_______
End of pt. 5 :)
#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy#peaky blinders#cillian fluff#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#peaky blinder fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#cabaret#burlesque#1920s#flapper#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinder imagine#cillian x reader
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Heavy trigger warning for abuse, SA, assault, violence, self harm, mentions of r*pe
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Freedom: A John Shelby Mini Fic
Chapter Nine: 4311 words
Hours passed until 'Go time' finally arrived and the adrenaline was just starting to kick in for Alice. She and Tommy were sat in silence as he drove her towards the agreed location - a seedy hotel just outside of town, ran by the Turks with a grand suite that Ergin often stayed in.
The window to his suite was visible from the street below; red velvet curtains pulled shut behind the thin glass panes. Alice was relieved that to see it was only on the second floor - knowing it to be her most likely route of escape incase things went wrong.
There were blinders surrounding the property, hidden in bushes and under cars, and the plan was clear in Alice's head. She could do this.
"We'll be an hour at most." Tommy spoke quietly, his eyes staring at a figure promptly coming towards the car.
After receiving strict instructions from him for the last hour, Alice found his voice to be extremely annoying and also looked to the figure, having nothing pleasant to say to Tommy.
A tanned man in a suit eventually came to the door on Alice's side, opening it with a smile and holding out his arm for her to take. She looked back at the Shelby one more time and he sent her a nod before sending her out into the cool night air, her hand placed gingerly on the arm of the small man.
Upon reaching the lobby, he stepped away from Alice with a polite nod and she suddenly found herself surrounded by an entourage of colourful characters; even the other women emitting an intimidating energy. They were all sat around a large table, decorated with intricate cloth, drinking from ornate glasses and laughing merrily. Alice looked around and tried to work out which one was Ergin, but had no luck - all of the men wearing similar, cream suits with no real distinction from each other.
A cough from the polite assistant quickly drew their eyes upwards and although they initially looked so unimpressed, the men's faces instantly softened upon seeing Alice - stood there like an innocent doe.
"The Shelby woman aye?" One of the men stood up with a grin and held out his hand for Alice to take, to which she quickly did. His accent was thick and he exuded suaveness. "Even more beautiful than I was told." He placed a kiss on her hand before pulling away and gesturing for her to follow him. "The boss's room is just up here, I show you."
"Thank you." She replied, being careful to smile and be polite but not too much - Tommy said it was important that she came across as unintelligent and innocent but still sexual and willing; a difficult mix to nail.
As she followed his path, she could feel all eyes on her; devouring the white, corseted dress and how it draped her frame perfectly. Polly had gotten her measurements and rushed into town to get it not long after the initial family gathering, worrying about Alice not looking the part. The older woman hated the plan and it had been even harder getting her approval than Tommy had originally anticipated, but she eventually caved in and agreed to help - citing the trickery and murder of Jones Buckley to be her main motivation. She owed it to Clara after all.
John on the other hand had disappeared from the house for hours, unable to handle the rage or betrayal his family had made him feel. Hidden, he watched Alice from a distance after she first tried on the dress; practicing her gun draw with Polly in the back street whilst the other Peaky boys rushed around preparing for potential bloodshed that night. The dress was absolutely beautiful on her and he struggled to watch, stepping away after a moment whilst painful thoughts started to ravage his brain again. There was no way he would ever forgive Tommy for asking this of her, and if she got truly hurt there was no way he'd ever forgive his family for allowing it.
Now he sat in tense silence, waiting for his signal to burst into the cellar and begin the raid, desperately praying that Alice would be okay.
Meanwhile, the woman was surprised by how pleasant the Turks had been to her, although she now suspected that things would change as the varnished door to the huge suite opened.
"Ah, Ms Buckley. You look incredible." Alice cringed at the name but nodded graciously to the man in front of her; his facial hair meticulously groomed and his suit black. "Do you mind if I call you that? Or are you a Shelby now?"
His tone was mocking and as Alice studied him, she realised he was one who'd been at the campsite that day - her face almost going red from anger and embarrassment.
"I'm my own woman now, you can just call me Alice." She answered with a sultry tone, eyeing his body in a way to suggest she didn't care if he eyed hers - even though she really just wanted to punch the man.
"And your name is?"
He chuckled slightly, staring her down as he closed the door behind her with a loud bang.
"My name is Maximus, Alice." He winked and patted her waist before leaning in to her ear. She expected an uncomfortable kiss to her neck, not the menacing tone that then quietly fell from his lips. "And I don't trust you one little bit.. I don't know how you escaped your husband, but I can have you sent back to him with the click my fingers, long before any of those Peaky brothers could find you. Don't forget that - whore." He almost spat that last word before suddenly standing straight again with a smile. "Now let's go see the boss, shall we?"
Alice didn't have time to even fully process his shocking words as another door was opened and they stepped deeper into the suite. She immediately spotted the red curtained window before she even looked at Ergin or his associate; both larger men, clad in expensive suits and golden jewellery. They had glasses of wine on the table in front of them, along with a pile of cards and an ashtray full of fat cigar butts. There was an empty chair opposite them and Maximus gestured for Alice to sit on it before leaving the room, leaving the three in silence for a moment.
Now she could ponder on the sinister man's words. She tried not to believe him, to keep her faith in the brothers, but a seed of doubt had now been planted and she was starting to accept that she would in fact have to sleep with these men if she wanted to stay alive - or atleast not get sent back to Jones. She'd rather die than have that happen.
Her panicked thoughts almost started to spiral until Ergin suddenly announced something to his friend in Turkish, instantly making her alert again. He cheered as he placed down a card - obviously winning whatever game they were playing - and then finally acknowledged the nervous woman in front of him.
"Sorry, I had to think about that move." He chuckled before meeting her eyes, his demeanour instantly softening. "Wow, look at this kadin, Aylin! Even more beautiful up close."
His friend, who Alice assumed to be named Aylin, laughed and nodded as he too studied the woman - staring as if she were an object and not a person.
"What you doing with a dog like John Shelby huh? You really just a whore like his brother says? I don't believe it." Ergin scoffed, once again sparking an anxious flame in Alice's belly that she had to quickly stamp out. "And what is this Maximus says about you being some kind of gypsy whore also? You are far too beautiful. I don't believe."
Alice was shocked by the seeming interest that Ergin had in her, taking a moment to collect herself before cooly replying "I thought I was here to dance with you, not be interrogated."
That seemed to surprise the men as they laughed again and exchanged few words in Turkish before Ergin leant forward and locked eyes with Alice again.
"I think you are an interesting woman.. The scars are something I like." Alice immediately went to pull down her sleeves as she realised they'd ridden up but he stopped her, his big hands enveloping hers with ease. "No no, don't cover, I said I like."
She didn't know how to respond to that. No one had ever liked her scars. A discussion about them wasn't what she had mentally prepared herself for. Instead, she was now thinking about how she would open the red curtain to send the signal without it seeming suspicious.
"It shows-" Ergin lit a cigar and placed it to his lips, drawing her attention again "-that you are not scared of pain. At least not pain inflicted by yourself. Am I right in this?"
Alice nodded slowly, unsure of where things could go from here. Her heart was racing and her handbag felt like a tonne weight placed gently on her thigh as she thought about the gun hidden inside.
"I want you to take off the dress and cut yourself right now then." His voice had a sudden firmness to it that paralleled to the friendly tone he'd shown a second prior.
With the four eager eyes on her, Alice knew she had no choice but to undress and started to slowly pull down her dress - the undergarments also being purchased in town by Polly that day. It was all white, a corset and frilly bra with matching garters and panties. Alice felt exposed but less exposed than she should've - so used to this objectifying treatment that it almost felt normal.
She took the small knife from Ergin's large, leathery hand and moved it to her thigh, taking a deep breath before making a quick red line. Even in such forced circumstances the pain felt a relief to her, visibly so as the two men let out another laugh and Ergin quickly snatched the knife back from her.
"Wow. You really like that huh? I didn't actually expect you to do it. Maybe you are a whore. Or maybe you are just crazy." He chuckled, earning an awkward forced chuckle back from Alice before his tone went serious again and he stood up. "Now dance with the knife. I want you to cut yourself with it as you dance. I expect all clothes to be gone by time the song is finished."
Alice's stomach dropped once she heard the record playing and felt the knife being placed in her hand again. Ergin was stood against the wall next to the phonograph - right by the window - whilst his friend remained leant into his cushioned seat, taking casual sips from his wine. Her eyes scanned the room desperately, looking for some kind of help, until she saw the mini bar in the corner.
"Do you not want me to make you a drink first? I thought I was meant to do that. I'm a barmaid you know." She fluttered her eyelashes and giggled, trying to act as if she was perfectly comfortable - a real whore like Tommy had obviously tried to sell her as.
"You can make any drink you want but know that you'll be testing it before either of us drink it. We're not stupid, Alice. Know this before you try anything told to you by Thomas Shelby."
"Fuck!" She started to mentally scream at herself as she realised nothing would go as smoothly as she'd hoped. She looked at the clock on the wall and saw it had only been seven minutes, she would have to think of a plan, fast.
As she sauntered over to the corner, Ergin called for Maximus to enter the room and she knew she'd have to pour the powder into the cups before the vulture like man was watching over her shoulder. So quickly, she pulled the vial from her bra and poured the white substance into each of the three glasses before covering it with whiskey - just as his thin frame reached her side.
She played it cool, pouring mixer into each of the drinks and stirring it with an ornate, metal spoon before she felt a hand gripping her thigh, instantly making her stop.
"You see? She is not a whore. Even one touch and she freezes up." Maximus scoffed. "I bet these drinks are poison too, go on, try one little lamb. Let's see."
Luckily, the drinks weren't too poison, just a tranquilliser, and Alice knew that if she just drank considerably less than them she would stand a better chance at staying awake than the men did. At least the older ones. They already seemed pretty drunk, after all.
"Fine, I'll show you. Maximus." She hissed his name and took a quick gulp from one of the glasses, earning an amused holler from the other two men.
"And the other one too-"
"Ah that is quite enough, my boy. A frightened whore does not perform as well as a comfortable whore. You will see this in a moment." Ergin cut him off with obvious authority, although there was enough care in his tone to imply a close bond between the two - perhaps uncle and nephew or father and son.
Either way, the younger man shut up immediately and stepped back, watching intently as Alice handed the drinks to the men. She now knew it was time to perform and stepped over to the phonograph before Ergin would stand up again to do so, earning a thankful laugh from his fat face as he and his friend lazily gawked at her.
As she gently placed the needle onto the record, she was careful to lean against the window and shift the curtain open - even it was only slightly - knowing that would be enough to let the boys below know the bosses were distracted.
That short feeling of relief was quickly replaced by the anxiety she'd been pushing down as the music started to play and she knew she couldn't postpone the dance any longer. Almost all forms of self harm had always been extremely appealing to Alice until this moment, awkwardly trying to cut her skin whilst remaining sexy and moving on beat. The men didn't care though, excited as she cut off her garters, corset and bra leaving only panties by time the song finished. Her mind had been miles away, not really seeing anything in the room as she danced, so when the trance ended with the music, she was relieved to notice their two cups empty although Maximus' remained full.
"Very nice, but remember what I said? All clothes off-" just as Ergin's instruction struck another deep pang of fear into Alice's chest, a loud bang followed by some shouts came from downstairs and all attention was averted.
"What the fuck was that? Max you go look!" Ergin demanded and the younger man immediately complied, shooting Alice a sharp glare before racing out of the room. From that point on everything moved fast. Too fast for her to properly comprehend.
All of a sudden, Alice felt a heavy force against her face and went flying to the floor, taking a second to realise that Ergin had hit her and was now bent down beside her. The woman could already feel the small amount of tranquilliser making her drowsy and so she knew that he would pass out any minute now - he had to - she just had to hold him off until one of the blinders arrived.
"What have you done, whore? What did you put in Aylin's drink? And what was that bang? You and the blinders have come up with some plan! What is it?" He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her face so that it was inches from his. Out the corner of her eye she could see that his friend had passed out so she just prayed that he would too - but he didn't.
"I said what have you done?" He repeated himself louder, spit flying from his mouth onto her face before he struck her again, once again sending her body to the floor.
She groaned in pain this time and struggled to move away as Ergin towered over her. There was blood all over her body already from the cuts she'd made, now some leaked from her mouth as her lip started to swell and she knew her face would be bruised the next day.
"You really think I drink a drink made by a Shelby whore?" He scoffed before kicking her hard in the ribs, earning another painful groan. "I may be fat and old. But I am not stupid."
From her position on the floor, Alice tried to take the knife off the table but Ergin quickly grabbed her hair again and dragged her around the room, to the chair she'd originally sat on. Memories of Jones flashed agonisingly through her brain every millisecond and she started to really hate Tommy for putting her up to this - yet hate herself more for agreeing to do it. John was right; she did love putting herself in danger. That was until the consequences of the danger hit her like they were right now.
"If he dies, I promise you will regret it very much." As Ergin spoke he placed bullets into a silver pistol, shaking and dropping some as he did.
Although his thick accent was still intimidating and booming, Alice realised he wasn't as powerful as he seemed and was in fact scared or at least nervous.
She looked around desperately for something to defend herself with, slowly regaining her hope; until she saw her handbag and felt a powerful surge of adrenaline. Just as he finished loading the weapon, Alice reached for the bag and pulled it to the ground with her, bloody hands desperately fumbling for the gun inside as she heard the violence downstairs.
"Hopefully that's the Blinders I can hear and not the Turks." Her thought was cut off by Ergin grabbing her again, this time by her neck, and pinning her against a wall. He squeezed tight and stared into her eyes as he did, watching the hope drain from them as the air did from her lungs.
She was almost convinced that these would be her final moments, staring into an ugly face - just as she had been with Jones so many times. Gradually, her body was going limp in his hand, her limbs feeling heavy as she thrashed against him, scratching and spitting like a wild animal.
"You planned ahead for this huh! What is the antidote for this poison? Tell me now!" He shouted, loosening his grip with wide eyes and letting her catch her breath for a second.
Her head was pounding and dizzy but it still worked fast.
"It's, it's in my dress. Sewn in. A small vile." She choked out, the noises downstairs getting louder and her body getting heavier.
As soon as the words left her mouth he dropped her and rushed to the crumpled white velvet by the phonograph, looking worriedly to Aylin before starting to desperately rip at the material.
"You stay there whore or I will kill every single member of the Shelby family, you understand?" He barked with his back facing her, but soon froze as he heard a gun cock and felt the metal pressed to the back of his head.
In that half minute, Alice had managed to get herself up, grab her gun and quietly slink over, leaving a trail of blood behind her on the already red carpet. There were few thoughts as she placed the gun to his head, only one real loud one that screamed "Fuck you!" He didn't deserve a chance to explain himself, he was a pig and now he was going to die.
"There's no antidote. It's not poison, it's a tranquilliser. Your friend would've been fine, you stupid fucking-"
"Please!" He cut her off with a loud beg but before he could let out another word she pulled the trigger - a loud bang echoing through the room.
It didn't move in slow motion like Alice thought it would, instead it was quick and sudden; skull fragments flying and a heavy thud. She'd never taken a life before and it was easier than expected.
Meanwhile downstairs, John heard the gunshot and even amongst the fighting in the lobby, he knew that it came from the suite. His blood immediately ran cold. The Blinders were winning and the Turks were massively outnumbered, but he felt no sense of victory until he knew it was Alice who fired that shot. He looked around the reception desperately, bloodshed all around him, until he spotted a waiter cowering in the corner - obviously not paid enough to be dealing with this.
Eyes wide, he grabbed the man's collar and shouted "Ergin's suite! Now!" to which the man immediately complied, taking him to the hidden staircase that lead directly to the exclusive room.
However, John hadn't been the only one to hear the gunshot. Maximus was already halfway up those stairs when he heard it, running as he reloaded his own weapon and prayed to God that his uncle was alive.
Upon opening the door, he was enraged to see Ergin dead and Alice stood with her gun to Aylin's head, about to shoot the passed out man until he suddenly tackled her, throwing her to the ground and pinning her down with bared teeth - foaming like a rabid dog.
"You fucking bitch!" He shouted, a guttural, grief filled scream as he started to violently shake her shoulders, banging her head against the floor. She was struggling to stay awake at this point and could feel herself slipping into darkness between each painful bump to the head. Still, she tried to fight back against him, punching, screaming and spitting. It was no use though.
He was in a trance like state, mad with grief, rage and shock, turning him into a complete animal with enough strength to break the girl's neck if he wanted despite his skinny frame.
"You evil fucking slut." He hissed, holding both her hands above her head with just one of his whilst the other groped her chest with such force that she screamed in pain. "You think you had it bad with the gypsy scum? Just you wait little girl." He dug in his nails so hard it drew blood, running them down her chest and digging into the fresh cuts made during her dance. There was definitely at least one broken rib he pressed into too, the pain becoming so intense that Alice could barely breathe as she cried out for help.
His hand finally reached her underwear, ripping them off in one swift motion despite her attempts at kicking him away. The feeling of his sharp nails drawing so close to her privates filled Alice with pure terror. A horrific scream left her lungs, followed by a loud sob.
But then suddenly he withdrew and his body was no longer on top of hers - giving her an immense sense of relief. That was until she heard John's voice calling her name and realised the psycho was going after him now.
"He's got a gun, John!" She desperately cried from the floor, her vision fading and not even certain her voice was loud enough for him to hear. She couldn't lift her head or keep her eyes open anymore, all she could do was listen as bullets started flying, empty shells flicking onto her naked body but from who she couldn't tell.
The room fell silent and there was a thud, sounding similar to the one Ergen made when he'd dropped dead earlier - instantly putting Alice's heart in her throat as she prayed it wasn't John's body she heard.
Apart from her own breathing and her heart thudding, she could hear nothing.
"Alice?" His thick Birmingham accent broke the silence and the woman instantly let out a relieved sob, alerting him to her position in the room and he immediately bolted over.
"Fuck." He muttered upon seeing her, more blood than skin visible, and quickly bent down to her side, ripping off his jacket to wrap around her. "Where'd they get you?"
His hands desperately searched her body for a bullet wound, shaking as he struggled to distinguish each injury from the next.
"Alice, where'd they get you?" He repeated, his voice cracking as his worst worries had seemingly come true.
"I-I'm not shot, John." She spluttered, almost laughing with relief. "They made me try the drink. I'll be fine."
Those were the final words she had the strength to say before passing out, much to John's incredible panic as he tried to shake her awake. It was after a few seconds of panic that he decided to believe those words - or at least try to - and he grabbed a blanket to wrap the woman in before rushing down the stairs with her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.
It only took a minute for him to get outside and into the closest getaway car, throwing himself into the passenger seat and shouting "Fucking drive!" to Isaiah.
"But Tommy told me to-"
John swiftly pressed his gun to the younger man's head, his pupils maniacally thin and sweat dropping profusely from his forehead.
"I don't give a fucking shit about Tommy! Fucking drive!"
This time the boy immediately complied, stepping on the gas and speeding away as the remaining blinders started the fire that would eventually burn the entire Turkish hotel to the ground - only leaving ashes behind.
#arthur shelby#freedom#john shelby imagine#john shelby#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinder headcanon#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders#peaky fookin blinders#peaky fucking blinders#peakyedit#polly grey#polly gray#peaky blinder fanfiction#john shelby x reader#john shelby fanfic#imagine#dark imagine#angst#fluff#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinder x reader#peaky blinders x oc#mini fic#minific#fanfic#tw#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader
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*Pixelated* [fluffbruary-ing 🐇 2024]
Chapter 10
Fluffbruary Prompt Day 13: Choice
Fluffbruary Prompt Day 14: Doll
Fluffbruary Prompt Day 15: Honey
Fluffbruary Prompt Day 16: Horse
Fluffbruary Prompt Day 17: Tactile
Fluffbruary Prompt Day 18: Gradual
{ In which your beleagured author performs the astounding feat of stuffing six days of prompts into one chapter! (and is still at least a week behind all you other cool cats and kittens . . . 😕) }
Sherlock, Shelby, Harry, and Clara have an interesting video chat, where much is learned and much lies unnoticed. Upon its conclusion, it very much appears to be the case that a certain swashbuckling consulting pirate has set sail for foreign shores.
[ Read the rest here: continued at ao3. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged :-) ]
xoxoxo to the @fluffbruary honor guard for providing guidance and infectious enthusiasm in spreading fandom fluff to one and all: [prompt list]
@totallysilvergirl
@mydogwatson
@calaisreno
@keirgreeneyes
@helloliriels
@blogstandbygo
@lisbeth-kk
@fluffbruary
#fluffbruary 2024#sherlock fluff#all hail fluffbruary!#bbc sherlock#fanfic#everyone sing with me#here we come a-fluffbruarying among the fics so keen
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MASTERLIST DE NOMES FEMININOS!
Após o cut você vai encontrar 130 opções de nomes femininos, todos foram tirados de textos que já li e alguns de imagens do pinterest, infelizmente, não encontrei créditos em nenhuma delas. As opções não seguem qualquer tipo de aesthetic ou localidade, apenas são nomes que achei bonitos e interessantes, e espero ajudar alguém!
Adelaide
Adira
Alexis
Amaya
Anastasia
Anika
Annalice
Apoline
Ariel
Astoria
Aubrey
Audrey
Aurora
Avalon
Avery
Bellamy
Bethany
Beverly
Blair
Bonnie
Brianne
Bridget
Brooke
Camryn
Carmella
Cassidy
Chloe
Citrine
Clara
Clarissa
Clementine
Coralina
Cristal
Damarina
Daphne
Dawn
Desiree
Donna
Dorothy
Eden
Eleanor
Elodie
Eloise
Emalyn
Emery
Emily
Emmeline
Enola
Enora
Esme
Evelyn
Faith
Felicity
Feyre
Fleur
Flora
Genevieve
Ginger
Glenda
Gracie
Gretta
Haifa
Halina
Harper
Hillary
Holly
Hope
Ivana
Ivy
Josephine
Journey
Juniper
Lauren
Layla
Leonor
Leonora
Lexie
Liana
Lindsey
Liya
Loretta
Luna
Madison
Maela
Magdalena
Margot
Maya
Merida
Morana
Morgana
Nadine
Nairobi
Nicole
Nicolette
Nika
Nikita
Noelle
Nora
Normani
Nyla
Odette
Ophelia
Primrose
Quintessa
Rosemary
Runa
Sabine
Sadie
Safira
Saoirse
Savannah
Scarlet
Serena
Shelby
Sienna
Skylar
Sloane
Sunday
Sydney
Tamaya
Valentina
Vayna
Verena
Viviane
Willow
Yvonne
Zaria
Zipora
Zoella
Zoya
#♡ · 🍁 : masterlist#♡ · 🎀 : rinn talks a lot#♡ · 🌸 by sakura#♡ · 🌿 : name help#name help#name masterlist#aesthetic names#rph br#rph
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A Familiar Tune
Summary: It’s 1924 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. When Isiah and his girlfriend have a very public break up at the Garrison, Clara tries to make him feel better.
Characters: Isiah Jesus and Clara Shelby
Content Warnings: Break ups suck. Some swearing, some drinking, some smoking, mentions of sex. The typical peaky content.
Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️
Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist
Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist
—
"Come on, Clara. It's our birthday."
“He’s fine.”
“Isiah can handle himself.”
Clara knew it was true. Michael and Finn were right, even if they were both drunk and being right assholes about the whole thing. Finn had even laughed, a bit of his drink spit across the table when Isiah stormed out.
Clara had tried to smack her brother upside the head in retribution then, but Finn had stopped her, the tightly wrapped fingers around her wrist easily able to quell the attack. Part of her had wanted to go for another swing with her free hand, but then she remembered Isiah.
She remembered the look on his face when he’d left the pub and something ached in her chest, a pain worse than Finn’s hand squeezing her arm. Worse than whatever guilt she felt at leaving the little birthday celebration Finn had cobbled together for the two of them.
“Just leave it, Clara,” Michael said as he sipped from the glass of mild, calm as ever as he remained reclined in his chair.
Clara ignored the guidance as she wrenched her arm free from Finn’s grasp, pulling her coat and then Isiah’s up into her arms as she passed his empty chair.
His chair in the snug had been empty most of the night as he sat with Lisette and her friends on the other side of the pub. Lisette didn’t like being tucked away in a private room. She liked to see what was going on, liked to watch the dancing even if she didn’t ever want to dance herself, not like her sister who had Finn’s two left feet out on the dance floor most evenings.
Clara had sometimes wondered if the two of them ought to have switched dates when that bit of knowledge became known, but Clara had kept her mouth shut. The truth was she actually liked Lisette. Well, Clara liked Lisette better than her younger sister, Ada, anyway. She didn't have any interest in setting up Ada and Isiah.
She didn't really want Finn continuing his dalliance with the girl either, but Clara had a feeling things between Ada and Finn weren’t a love for the ages anyhow. How could they be with the girl sharing a name with their older sister? Clara wasn't sure how the name alone didn't weird him out...kissing someone with the same name as their Ada? And surely, the girl wasn't marriage material. There was only room enough in the world for one Ada Shelby.
But Clara kept those thoughts all to herself. Things would work themselves out before it got that far, Clara was certain.
Not that it mattered anyway, because Clara could tell from the beginning that Isiah liked Lisette better, too, something Clara understood, even if she wished she didn’t. Lisette was smart and beautiful and different from the girls who usually flocked to the boys. She was a bit older, for one. A bit more mature. And if it wasn’t for the fact that Clara made a conscious decision of keeping a bit of distance between herself and whoever any of the boys were dating, especially in the beginning stages, she might have thought of her as the type of person she could be friends with.
Even if it was clear that Lisette was the type of girl who was used to getting precisely what she wanted all the time. Some people might say Clara was the same—her family frequently alluded to the fact that she was spoiled in that way, but Clara knew how to negotiate. She knew how to read people, how to accommodate others.
From what she’d seen, Lisette didn’t want to do that even if she knew how.
Clara eyed the booth on the other side of the pub holding the group—Lisette, Ada, and a gaggle of their friends whose names Clara didn’t know—as she pushed through the crowds near the bar. It was clear they were all consoling Lisette in the wake of her breakup even as the rest of the pub had already moved on with their merrymaking, singing along and dancing to the familiar tune being sung from the makeshift stage at the back of the pub.
Clara had a vision of herself crossing the pub and shooing the lot of them away, calling in her status as a Shelby to bar them from the pub for all eternity, but a bit of cool air blasted through the front door, raising bumps on her arms and her mind remembered where her body was taking her on instinct, trailing in Isiah’s wake though she was already a few minutes behind him by now.
Clara shivered as she pushed out into the night, a curse slipping through her lips as the door swung shut behind her. She fumbled with the coats in her hand, realizing she should have slipped her own on before coming outside and she worked to slip her arm into it while keeping Isiah’s from touching the muddy ground.
It wasn’t a particularly long walk to Isiah’s house, but it would feel longer in the cold. Clara had successfully sheathed one arm when she heard her name, the sound of it so quiet and small it nearly hurt to hear, almost as if it wasn’t certain in its conviction. Wasn’t certain in wanting to be known.
Clara spun on her heel, steeling her face even as she remained tangled up in coats, one arm still bared to the elements. For a moment as she met Isiah’s eye, she wondered which one of them was trying harder to remain neutral, and she studied him as he took a silent drag from his cigarette, his breathing calm and deep, his countenance so unbothered, almost as if he and Lisette hadn’t just broken things off in front of everyone in the Garrison.
“That for me?” Isiah asked, gesturing toward the overcoat she held carelessly bundled in her arm.
He didn’t look cold, but Isiah was good at looking like things he wasn’t when he wanted to be—happy, unbothered, not cold. Even if Clara could see through it.
She stepped forward to hand it over and Isiah easily slipped his arms inside, his cigarette parked between his lips for the duration.
“It’s fucking freezing out here,” Clara said as she shoved her arm into the jacket and fumbled with the buttons, securing them all the way to the top.
Isiah shrugged and cleared the ash from the end of his cigarette. The truth was he was fucking freezing. His suit jacket still sat at Lisette’s table and he had realized his stupidity the moment he stepped outside. He had been too stubborn to go back inside, too stubborn even to roll down his shirt sleeves, and he tried to repress the shiver that skittered across his skin now.
It was then that Clara realized something looked off, that the familiar black overcoat wasn’t sitting on Isiah’s frame quite right, and she disappeared without a word, returning a moment later with the forgotten suit jacket dangling from her fingers.
Clara hadn’t said a word to the group of girls, simplying leaning around them and retrieving Isiah’s jacket with a tug before walking back out through the door.
Isiah mumbled his thanks as Clara held the jacket out to him, the pair of them quiet as he stripped out of the overcoat and passed it back to her waiting arms so he could get situated, the burning cigarette parked between his lips once again.
“Where do you want to go?” Clara asked once Isiah pulled the dwindling cigarette away from his mouth.
Isiah shook his head, clearing the ash. “It’s alright. You go back in.”
They were meant to be celebrating Finn and Clara’s impending birthdays, just a few days out. It had been Finn’s idea to celebrate both the weekend before and after, and he’d convinced Clara, but she hadn’t really cared. She was much more looking forward to celebrating with her family. Much more looking forward to Ada and Karl coming in for a short visit.
But this had been what Finn wanted, so she obliged.
“I’m not going back in without you,” she said. “And I’m not standing out here all night either,” she continued, her words picking up speed and force and a certain sharpness that was so familiar to Isiah it was nearly a comfort, a fair bit better than him listening to the annoying voice inside his head. “And don’t tell me you want to be alone either because I know—”
“I don’t,” Isiah answered, and Clara’s face softened, the corners of her mouth falling a bit.
“I’m sorry, Is,” she said after swallowing down the lump forming in her throat.
Isiah nodded. He knew she meant it, though he wasn’t sure what she was sorry about. The break up or the way it had happened or all of it or something else entirely. Clara could be odd like that, thinking about things that weren’t even on Isiah’s radar in a particular situation, but the intricacies of it didn’t matter, just that he knew it was sincere, could feel her concern more than he’d felt anything else lately, and it warmed him.
Isiah didn’t even know what he felt about the break up. Some part of him was numb, barely feeling it, even though they’d made a bit of a scene doing it in public like that. Isiah could have made it an even bigger scene. He could’ve put on an even bigger show, but he had let it be. He knew it wasn’t worth it. What he wanted didn’t matter, not when Finn was still seeing the sister.
“So what do you want to do?” Clara asked, a question Isiah would swear he hadn’t heard in ages. Not a single Blinder cared what he wanted and though his father solicited his opinion often enough, Isiah hadn’t been home for a meal with the man in what felt like ages now, not since he’d been dating Lisette, at least.
Lisette certainly hadn’t asked his opinions, used as she was to getting what she wanted. Isiah didn’t think it was malicious, just that it hadn’t occurred to her to consider someone else. Isiah had liked her well enough, and the sex had been good enough, that he’d convinced himself to go along with her whims. Some part of him was entranced by her and the ways he was so different from her that he’d been warmed to see her happy, even if it meant losing part of himself in her wants and her needs.
Clara was patient, remaining quiet as she waited on Isiah’s answer, already reading his desire as he stubbed out his cigarette and pushed off the wall.
“Let’s walk a bit.”
Clara waited for him to take the first step, waited for him to determine their course even if some part of her knew where he wanted to go. They were quiet, the pair of them with hands stuffed in their pockets as they walked to the end of Garrison Lane, turning off onto Watery Lane and stopping before number 6. Clara fished her key out of her pocket and handed it off to Isiah as they approached the darkened door.
Some part of Clara wondered if the key should have been Isiah’s anyway. He certainly spent more time in her childhood home than she did, but he wasn’t family—not blood, at least—and only her and her siblings and her aunt had keys to the family home.
Isiah passed the key back to her as he pushed open the door, holding it open and allowing Clara to pass over the threshold first. Isiah latched the door behind them before wordlessly moving to the fireplace where he started on getting it lit in the near dark.
Clara left him alone, navigating the first floor in the dark and returning a few minutes later with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from John’s office in the shop. Isiah didn’t look away from the fire as she entered, his arms rested on his knees as he watched the flames.
Clara set aside the bottle and glasses, retrieving Isiah’s suit jacket and overcoat from where he’d discarded them on the floor and settling them on a hook by the stairs. Clara grabbed the whiskey and glasses as she moved back across the room. She plopped down on the floor beside him and immediately poured out two hefty servings in each of the glasses. Isiah hooked a finger in one glass, quickly pulling it over and knocking back the contents and setting it back down before Clara could even stopper the bottle.
Clara quickly moved to pour him another shot, but Isiah’s hand caught her wrist, his fingers gentle as he stopped her and guided the bottle from her hand, all the while his eyes remained on the fire, the warmth of it almost too hot on both of their faces.
Clara took a slow sip of her whiskey, trying not to hiss at the fiery sting in her throat. She’d been sipping mild all night and she wasn’t sure what was causing the sudden heat in her cheeks—the liquor or the flame or the words swirling in her head and her heart.
“I want to say something, but I don’t want you to get mad.”
Isiah snorted. “That’s a promising start.”
Clara sighed on the end of a deep breath, forcing herself to take another sip. She tried to keep the commentary on Isiah’s relationships to herself at this point. They’d had enough tiffs about it, that Clara had learned her opinion wasn’t wanted most times. Her reservations weren’t wanted. And unless Isiah solicited her, she didn’t share. And even then, what she shared was always tempered, restrained just a little.
Isiah knew as much, but they’d both decided to let it be. It was better than arguing.
“Well, what is it?” Isiah finally asked. He pulled his gaze away from the fire to look at her, watching for a moment as she focused on swirling the remaining whiskey in her glass. Isiah set his hand over the glass, and Clara set the glass aside before shifting her body so she sat facing him, the fire blazing against her back.
“I just wonder…” she started, reaching out to take his hand, training her eyes on their intertwined fingers. “...I wonder if maybe it’s for the best, Is?” she said. “I know it may not feel that way now, but—”
Isiah was quiet even after Clara stopped herself, wondering if it was her place to say these things, wondering if it wasn’t better to keep these thoughts to herself after all.
“Go ahead,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It’s not as if you’d be able to keep whatever it is to yourself anyhow, eh?”
“I could,” Clara answered, her back straightening and her tone sharpening a bit in a defiance she was nearly powerless to control. “...if you wanted me to. If you didn’t want my…opinion.”
As hard as it would be for her…especially when it came to Isiah, she could do it if that was what he wanted. If her silence would soothe him more than her words, she’d honor it—for now at least.
It wouldn’t be too hard and it wasn’t as if her opinion, her guidance, was needed when it came to a subject matter with which Clara was so personally unfamiliar. She was no expert in love or relationships. Her brothers had always been quick to remind her of that fact whenever she’d tried to offer them some sort of guidance in regards to their love lives.
Isiah stayed quiet, urging her to continue only with his eyes and the fact that he hadn’t pulled his hand away. Clara let both of their hands settle on her lap and Isiah felt the gentle twist of his pinky ring as she twisted it, barely aware of the nervous habit.
Isiah had been tempted to test out Clara’s assertion, to make her squirm while trying to keep the words on the tip of her tongue, but not only did Isiah not believe in her ability to keep her mouth shut longer than a few minutes, but he found himself almost yearning to hear her thoughts, desperate to know if his best friend would end the sentence the same way he would.
“I just…” she started, still subtly fidgeting with Isiah’s ring until she realized what she was doing and she let his hand go, allowing him to pull it back to his own lap. “You just haven’t seemed much like yourself. You haven’t seemed very…” Clara sorted through the words, trying to decide what precisely she meant and what she could say that might sting the least.
She wanted to say that he hadn’t seemed particularly happy, even if that declaration felt heavy in her mouth. She wanted to say that she hadn’t seen his cheeky grin in a while. That she hadn’t heard him laugh or seen him excited. She wanted to say that they hadn’t had a dance in ages. And that she didn’t have a clue what he was reading lately, or if he was reading anything at all. It wasn’t that Isiah had seemed wholly unhappy, exactly. Just that he was a bit muted, like a subdued version of himself. A shadow of the person she knew. Neutral and opinionless and far too timid.
“Happy?” Isiah finally suggested, as if he knew—or hoped—that it was the word on the tip of Clara’s tongue.
“Well, yeah,” Clara sighed. She knew that relationships required compromise. She knew that people had to be a bit malleable in the process of two people coming together, but something had seemed different this time, almost as if Isiah had let a bit of himself go in order to accommodate everything Lisette was.
Isiah snorted softly and reached out for Clara’s glass, downing the small bit of whiskey left in her glass. “I wasn’t sure anyone noticed.”
“Of course I noticed.” Clara studied Isiah’s face, frowning at the pain etched there in his features. “I just…I didn’t want to stick my nose in. It wasn’t my place.”
Clara had been told time and time again by those in her life to not worry about this or that…to focus on her own responsibilities…to stay out of business not pertaining to her. It seemed to only bring trouble when she did otherwise.
“Since when do you endeavor to keep your nose out of my business?” he asked. “Seems to me you decided my business was as good as yours way back in 1915.”
Isiah’s lips pulled into something resembling a smile, but Clara could tell he was forcing it.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Isiah shook his head. “Since when does it matter what I want?”
“It’s always mattered,” Clara answered. “And you shouldn’t have to change yourself or compromise or bend over backwards to get what you want, Is. It should be equal. A partnership” He didn’t say anything, didn’t fight or interrupt, so Clara continued. “Someday, someone is going to come along and she’ll be everything you want and you—just as you are—will be what she wants, and sometimes it will be work and it won’t always be easy, but it’ll be work you want to do. It’ll be work you couldn’t imagine not doing, and when it happens, you’ll understand why it never worked out with anyone else because it’ll just make sense. And it’ll feel different. Natural. Right.”
Isiah was still quiet, listening to Clara as if she was telling him a story, as if she was telling them both a story that they both hoped wasn’t just a fairy tale.
“And when it happens, you’ll be glad Lisette cut you lose now,” she added. “Even if it feels like shit just now.”
Clara took a deep breath, preparing herself for Isiah’s response—that she was naive and silly. That she didn’t know anything of any value when it came to love or life. That she read far too many romance novels. Clara knew all of that wouldn’t be out of line. It was a little true that she didn’t have much firsthand experience and that she had read a lot of books, but Isiah didn’t say any of that. He didn’t say anything, simply turning his gaze back to the fire.
Clara watched Isiah’s adam’s apple bob, a distinct mist shimmering in his eye which Isiah willed himself to control. He could’ve cried in front of Clara. Isiah knew that, but he didn’t want to, even if the words had resonated enough that something ached deep in his chest.
Clara could feel it, almost as if the pain echoed in her own heart. As his silence stretched on, Clara found herself testing out the words to apologize in her head. She was preparing herself to say them outloud when Isiah let out a breath and rose from the floor.
Isiah stepped across the room, readying the gramophone. Slow songs weren’t what they usually listened to, but the tune was familiar, with a melody she knew by heart.
Isiah held a hand down to Clara. “You want to dance?”
“Do you want to?” she countered, looking up at him.
“I want to dance with you,” he said, grabbing Clara’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “Haven’t had a decent dance partner in months.”
Clara quickly fell into step, letting Isiah lead as they twirled around the room, sidestepping the bottle and glasses they’d left on the floor. Isiah let his instincts take over as his mind worked through Clara’s words once again, part of him hoping beyond hope that they were true.
That someday someone would come along.
That it would be work, but the work would be worth doing.
That it would be different—natural and right.
They would be partners. Equals.
And it would be instinctive.
As easy as dancing along to a familiar tune.
—
Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist
Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist
#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders fanfic#isiah jesus#isiah jesus fanfic#clara shelby#little lady blinder
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As you all know, the Femslash February event of this year starts tomorrow so I decided I’ll be taking prompts and posting them in my account on AO3 iammyownsaviour (ant1hero), and pseuds ant1hero and transacelovegood (ant1hero). Here’s the full list of the fandoms and ships I want to write this year, you can send me an anonymous or non anonymous inbox with your prompts and you can even say in the inbox, in case you have an AO3 account, if you want me to gift the fanfic to you. And you can find the prompt list I'll be using for this event on my tag #fanfic events, but you can send prompts that aren't there too. Please be welcomed to send as many prompts as you can and I'll try writing and posting them for the whole month of February!
FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2024
FANDOMS & SHIPS
SEND ME PROMPTS!!
My Little Pony
Applejack/Rainbow Dash
Rarity/Fluttershy
Studio Ghibli
Ponyo/Kiki
Kiki/Ursula
Lisa/Granmamare (Ponyo)
Cardcaptor Sakura
Sakura/Tomoyo
Steven Universe
Peridot/Lapis Lazuli
Pearl/Amethyst
Pearl/Rose
Pearl/Garnet
Pearl/Bismuth
Scott Pilgrim
Ramona/Kim
Ramona/Roxy
Kim/Roxy
Kim/Knives
Envy/Roxy
Wednesday
Wednesday/Enid
Wednesday/Bianca
Mean Girls (2024)
Regina/Janis
Regina/Cady
Cady/Janis
The Hunger Games
Lucy Gray/Tigris
Katniss/Johanna
Katniss/Cressida
Rue/Primrose
Ginny & Georgia
Ginny/Abby
Ginny/Padma
Abby/Padma
Hamilton
Angelica/Fem!Alexander
Angelica/Eliza
Eliza/Maria
Outer Banks
Sarah/Kie
Sarah/Cleo
The OC
Anna/Summer
Marissa/Alex
Anna/Alex
Star Wars
Padmé/Fem!Anakin
Padmé/Sabé
Padmé/Dormé
Padmé/Cordé
Padmé/Jamillia
Padmé/Breha
Padmé/Beru
Sabé/Fem!Anakin
Sabé/Dormé
Sabé/Jamillia
Sabé/Breha
Sabé/Beru
Cordé/Dormé
Jyn/Leia
Leia/Fem!Han
Rey/Fem!Kylo
Rey/Connix
Rey/Rose
Rose/Jannah
Rose/Connix
Marvel
Betty/Liz
Cassie/Lila
Carol/Valkyrie
Carol/Natasha
Riri/Shuri
Riri/MJ
Sif/Valkyrie's
Sif/Jane
Sif/Maria
Natasha/Wanda
Natasha/Laura Barton
Natasha/Maria
Kate/Yelena
Kate/Lila
Kate/Cassie
MJ/Betty Brant
MJ/Lizu
MJ/Shuri
MJ/Cassie
Jane/Darcy
Jane/Wanda
Jane/Valkyrie
Gamora/Nebula
Stranger Things
El/Max
Joyce/Karen
Nancy/Barb
Nancy/Robin
Nancy/Kali
Robin/Chrissy
Robin/Barb
Robin/Eden
Kali/Eden
Chrissy/Kali
Chrissy/Eden
Teen Wolf
Fem!Stiles/Fem!Derek
Allison/Erica
Allison/Kira
Allison/Cora
Allison/Malia
Allison/Laura
Lydia/Fem!Stiles
Lydia/Erica
Lydia/Cora
Lydia/Malia
Lydia/Laura
Malia/Fem!Stiles
Malia/Kira
Malia/Erica
Malia/Cora
Doctor Who
Donna/Martha
Rose/Martha
Rose/Clara
Clara/Martha
Clara/Amy
Clara/Ashildr
Clara/Missy
River/Missy
River/Martha
River/Rose
Once Upon A Time
Snow/Regina
Snow/Red
Snow/Aurora
Regina/Red
Regina/Maleficent
Mulan/Aurora
Mulan/Belle
Belle/Regina
Belle/Red
Aurora/Cinderella
The 100
Clarke/Raven
Clarke/Octavia
Clarke/Gaia
Octavia/Raven
Octavia/Niylah
Octavia/Lexa
Raven/Emori
Raven/Abby
The Wilds
Shelby/Becca
Toni/Regan
Fatin/Leah
Leah/Nora
Leah/Rachel
#send me prompts#taking prompts#femslash february#femslash february 2024#prompts#ao3#ao3feed#ao3 writer#archive of our own#multifandom#ship list#femslash#femslash fanfic#sapphic#sapphic fanfic#wlw#wlw fanfic#mcu#stranger things#teen wolf
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MatchesAreLit Masterlist
REQUESTS OPEN
*= suggestive (minors dni)
** = smut (minors dni)
Marvel Masterlist
Firefly Masterlist
Squid Game Masterlist
Smosh Masterlist
Tiny imagine <150w
Small imagine <1000w
Imagine >1000w
Dark Matter
Three
The Bridge* (small imagine)
Bunking
Meeting back up with the crew of the Raza but with their new crew members there’s only one bed left at the end of the night.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Ghostbusters-CU
Lars Pinfield
Just us
Lars has invited you over to the lab before, so why is it awkward today?
Scientists of an Absurd Field
You visit the lab and as always the air is full of condescending words and unspoken compliments.
Workplace Attire (small imagine)
In the aftermath of Garraka Lars makes his way back to the lab... You are just a little amused at the state he's in.
Zookeeper
The only thing left for the day was feeding the ghosts their dinner... Lars is there and ready to help, help keep you company that is.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Oscar’s hotel
Oliver
Oscar’s Protégé (tiny imagine)
Capabilities (tiny imagine)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Rusty Lake
Jakob\Mr Owl
The Gardening Job (small imagine)
David
Research (small imagine)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Friday Night Dinner
Johnny
Adam’s Bestie*
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Lucifer
Lucifer Morningstar
Back With A Badge, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, (INDEFINATE HIATUS)
Detective Hatch is reunited with a friend when she is transferred to LA but what will happen when she gets ‘acquainted’ with the Devil.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
DC
Dick Grayson
The Mysteries Of Dick Grayson*
“Now as far as I know this rooftop is neither yours nor in a city you have sworn to protect. So what, pray tell is a little birdie doing up here in the dead of night?”
Felicity Smoak
Proposal (small imagine)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Chilling Adventures of Sabrina
Dorian Gray
The Newest Fad
A new club has Dorian’s empty and he is furious... until hes not. I mean how could he be with that familiar voice in his ear.
Ambrose Spellman
Old ‘Friends’
You visit the home of two women who are practically family, but so much has changed in the last 70 years since you lost your best friend. what will it be like to see him again.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Tin Can Bros
Scrags
Hands up (small imagine)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Grimm
Trubel
Anti-Grimm (small imagine)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Who
11th Regeneration
“Sorry”* (small imagine)
Make out sesh (small imagine)
10th Regeneration
Two Hearts (small imagine)
Clara Ozwald
“Best Friends” ... sure (small imagine)
Rory Williams
A Hunky Nurse
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Stranger Things
Robin or Steve
Heading to Hawkins P1
While staying with the Hendersons you meet someone new.
P2 Robin x F!Reader
P2 Steve x F!Reader
P2 Steve x NonF!Reader
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Curious Creations of Christine McConnell
Christine + Norman x reader
Poly (small imagine)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Jurassic Park
Ian Malcolm
Cuddling Him (HCs)
Au pairs and attacks
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Evan Peters
An Interesting Rest
During a week or so break off of filming you and some friends go on a trip, that results in a new friend who looks strikingly familiar. But will this friendship tear apart another?
Fp Jones
Picnic (small imagine)
Tommy Shelby
An Easy Target
Samuel Davenport Archive 81
Visser**
Visser P2 **
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer imagine#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar fanfic#lucifer#james buchanan barnes#bucky imagine#bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes imagine#imagines#imagine#fanfic#fluff#angst#marvel#marvel imagine#Matchesaresmallimagines#jessica jones imagine#Jessica Jones#jessica jones imagines#jessica jones x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#Bucky barnes x reader#dorian gray x reader#dorian gray imagine#Dark matter three#three#squid game#squid game x reader
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Tachipen (Part 2)
Tommy x female reader
Summary: With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a 20 year old gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he employs her as a nanny. When tragedy strikes, he’s forced to confront the truth he has always known.
Author’s Note: This was requested by @honey-im-hotdog who asked for a fic about Charlie’s nanny. I decided to turn it into a series. The story will be told through flashbacks, but I will note the year. Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925.
Warnings: language, weapons, injury, animal death, mention of gypsy curses (as mentioned on the show)
Part 1
1924
Guests filled the chairs inside the Grace Shelby Institute as you continued to walk with Charles, showing him a picture of his late mother. You stopped in front of the framed portrait and the multitude of fragrant blooms all around it, wondering if the boy would have any memory of her. Your heart ached for him as you felt his chubby hands come to rest around your neck. Breathing deeply, you savored the weight of him in your arms and hugged him to your chest tightly. The guilt of being alive to receive this little boy’s affection when his mother’s life was cut short gnawed at you. It shouldn’t be me here now with Charles you thought. It shouldn’t be me comforting him or Tommy.
“I’m sure that little whore can’t wait to become the new Mrs. Shelby,” Linda said in a harsh whisper, though it was loud enough for anyone to hear.
“For fuck’s sake Linda, you know how long she’s been with the family. Tommy would never feel that way about her. She takes care of Charlie like her own child so there’s no reason for such cruelty toward her,” Ada bit back in your defense.
“Exactly, she’s coveting what isn’t hers,” Linda said piously.
The two women were unaware of your presence as you walked the floor behind their chairs with Charles and the words you’d overheard stung painfully. You’d worked hard over the years to gain the trust of the Shelby family and you never felt you were done proving yourself. At times like these you wondered if you would always be an outsider.
——————————————————
1919
The sunlight streamed through the threadbare curtains, waking you to sudden confusion when you realized you weren’t in your vardo. As you searched the cracked ceiling above your head, you heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and jerked the covers to your chin as your heart began to race. When the muffled voices of the Shelby brothers faded down the hall, you heard a rapping on your door and Polly’s voice came to you softly through the keyhole. “Y/n, are you awake?”
“Just a moment,” you replied, forcing your heavy legs over the side of the bed and placing your feet onto the cold floorboards. Your limbs ached from lack of sleep as you pushed yourself toward the basin and splashed water onto your face, still puffy from the evening of crying into your pillow. Slowly you opened the creaky bedroom door and peered around the door.
Polly stood waiting with a kind expression. “Good morning, ready to meet the children?”
You stood looking down at your feet, tears collecting in your eyes. You felt exhausted and overwhelmed so you froze, unsure how to respond. Polly noted your distress instantly and clasped her hands over yours saying, “I’ll give you a moment to yourself.”
“No, don’t go,” you said, looking up at her. The last thing you wanted was to be alone.
“Alright. Would you like to come downstairs for some tea?” she offered. You peeked over her shoulder and as if she could read your mind she assured you, “The boys have gone. The betting shop opens soon.” You gave her a grateful smile in return and followed her to the kitchen where she offered you a chair while she put the kettle on. You sat watching her as she told you about John’s four children-Katie, eight, William, six, Clara, five, and Henry, two. She explained that his wife Martha had died giving birth to their youngest while he was away during the war. “It’s been difficult for him to raise them on his own. He came back a changed man.” Thinking for a moment she added, “Well, perhaps not so much as Tommy, but still, he hasn’t a clue about those children,” she laughed.
“What happened to Tommy?” you asked, curious to know more about the mysterious man who refused to marry you.
“He does what he does for us you know, but sometimes I wonder if he weren’t meant for a different life. He wanted to work with horses before the war. Now I don’t even recognize him,” she said as she stared out the window, lost in thought.
You held your hands firmly around the porcelain teacup, but all the warmth had drained away with the liquid. As you stared into the bottom, you cocked your head, noticing the patterns of your tea leaves. You gulped at the outline of a beast, a clear warning to you.
“Is everything alright, dear?” Polly asked, noticing you’d gone white as a sheet.
You only nodded in reply, taking the cup away from her to wash out the contents.
“Don’t be nervous about meeting John’s kids. All they need is a firm hand and love,” she said mistaking your fear for nerves.
———————————————
The sight that greeted you at John’s house was worse than you had anticipated. You had some difficulty pushing past the front door as several pairs of tiny shoes and an extra pair of John’s boots littered the front hall. As you ventured inside, you froze at the sound of a commotion in the kitchen, only exploring further when you heard the shrieks of children’s laughter. When you looked beyond the doorframe, you took in the sight of a tow-headed girl and boy around the same age, standing on chairs, pulling items from the cupboards with obvious delight. Flour had covered every inch of the floor and honey was oozing off the counter between their little fingers.
When they spotted you, they turned and the little girl said, “Oh, hello. We were pretending to be naughty bear cubs. Have you come to be our mama bear?”
Your mouth hung open a moment as your surveyed the mess. Then you replied, “Well, erm…not exactly. I have come to look after you though and right now it looks as though you need a bath.”
“I don’t want a bath!” the little boy protested. Just then Polly entered the room and gasped as she saw the mess in front of her. “William and Clara Shelby! What the bloody hell!”
“It’s alright Aunt Polly. I’ll help clean it up before Daddy sees,” Clara said climbing down from her perch to give Polly a hug. Polly intercepted her before she could smear honey over her dress and you turned to gather the child in your arms.
“I happen to know that your Uncle Tommy has a new horse in his stable. If you’re very good, I could take you to see her,” you said, attempting a bribe. The children nodded vigorously in agreement before leading you up the rickety staircase. You sidestepped toys as you went, looking for the other two children.
When you reached the landing, you were startled by the presence of an older girl in one of the bedrooms who was already dressed, combing her hair methodically. Despite her tidy appearance, the room didn’t look much better than downstairs as the floor was strewn with dirty clothes and a layer of dust which covered every surface around her.
“Katie, this is Y/n,” Polly said introducing you. “She’ll be looking after you while your dad is at work.”
Katie pursed her lips together in a thin line, looking you up and down. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and addressed Polly with a sniff, “Why should I learn her name? She’s just another one of Daddy’s whores. She’ll be gone tomorrow and you know it Aunt Polly.”
You gasped at her directness and the hostility of her words. For a young child, she was quite blunt. Then you reminded yourself of everything she must have been through with the death of her mother. However, Polly wouldn’t stand for such insolence. She stepped forward landing a harsh slap across the girl’s face. “You won’t dare speak that way again in my presence, do you understand, Katie?”
The girl’s lip trembled for a moment, but she didn’t cry. Without looking up, she replied, “Yes, Aunt Polly.”
You shifted your weight uncomfortably before saying, “Where’s the baby?”
Katie pointed down the hall and you thanked her walking away swiftly. Rounding the corner, you smiled at the sight of a toddler asleep in his cot. Somehow he had slept through the earlier commotion. He had a head full of blonde curls and his lips were full like John’s. He looked like a tiny angel as he slept. Taking a moment to rub his back, you wondered how you were going to handle four children who needed so much from you. You didn’t have time to stand idly much longer as a fight broke out between William and Clara down the hall and you dashed away to break them apart.
--------------------------------------------
With considerable effort, you readied the four children for an outing to the stables and Polly walked with you. She assured you a kind man by the name of Curly would be there to watch over the horse. He was half horse himself, she joked and that made you feel better about how the mare was being treated.
Everyone was in high spirits as they discussed where the horse came from and you tried to describe the camp where you’d lived before arriving in Small Heath. When the children asked about the horse’s name, you gave the Romani name and they laughed at the unfamiliar sound. It was then you realized they must not be familiar with the language.
When you arrived, you were surprised to see Tommy there. You greeted him, explaining you had brought the children as a treat and he didn’t seem to mind. He was surprisingly kind to his nieces and nephews, allowing them a turn to sit upon the horse and take a short ride. You smiled at the sight of him teaching them to ride, even little Henry.
As you helped the last child dismount, he asked, “Is she always this steady around people?”
“Yes, mares spook less easily, but she’s always been this way. What do you intend to do with her?” you asked, filled with curiosity at his intentions.
“A good horse like this?” he displayed a wide grin. “You know my business, love. I intend to race this beauty,” he said patting her flank.
Your face dropped slightly. “I see.”
“You don’t approve?” he asked noticing your hesitancy.
“I didn’t say that,” you added quickly.
“But you were thinking it,” he said, searching your eyes for meaning. Then one of the children ran up to you, tugging at your skirts.
“Y/n, I’m hungry!” William cried.
“Alright, back home, then,” you said with a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Shelby,” you said.
———————————————————
The next evening you returned from John’s house exhausted from a day of cleaning and wrangling children. You were soaked to the skin from walking home in the rain, but you couldn’t have cared less. Collapsing into a chair, Polly brought you a cup of tea by the fire to warm you.
“Were they any better today?” Polly she asked, looking at you for a genuine report.
“A bit, yes,” you replied as you attempted to ring water from your hair.
“I know it might be slow going, but they’ll come round,” Polly said as she went back to her sewing.
“I’m not worried. I like them,” you assured her with a smile, thinking of how their antics reminded you of your sisters at their age. “I grew up without a mother and I think all children should be loved and cared for by someone,” you said earnestly.
Polly looked at you and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think you’re going to be very good for this family,” she proclaimed to herself and your heart filled with pride at her statement.
Before you could reply, someone began pounding on the door urgently. You and Polly startled at the sound and before she could make it to the door, Tommy rushed forth, finding Curly at the doorstep.
“Tom! Tom, you best come quick! Come!,” Curly said, his words coming at such a rapid pace, the lantern that hung from his hand swung wildly with the force.
“Is it the horse?” Tommy asked, grabbing his coat from the hook. Curly nodded emphatically.
Your breath caught in your chest at the news that something might be wrong with the beautiful mare you’d brought from camp and you stood up announcing, “I’m coming as well.” Without a thought for the bad weather, you ran out the door, trying to keep pace with Tommy and Curly as you ducked your head to avoid the driving rain.
When you reached the stable, the mare you loved so much was holding one foot off the ground in obvious pain. “Tell me what’s wrong with the horse, Curly,” Tommy asked in a calm, even tone as he assessed the situation.
Curly placed a gentle kiss to her nose and stepped aside, mumbling, “It’s a curse, Tom. Someone put a bad seed in the hoof. They put a spell!” You watched quietly from the shadows as Tommy placed his hands on either side of the man’s face to steady him, hushing him gently.
Uncle Charlie stood next to the mare, observing her reverently. You could tell by his grim expression there would be no saving her and his words confirmed it. “Whatever it is, it spread to the other feet,” he said, gesturing toward the horse’s large hooves.
Curly broke free from Tommy’s grasp, shaking his head. “It’s going to her heart by tomorrow, I’d say. I’ve seen curses like this twice. Can’t take them back,” he said in an agitated voice, raising a finger in the air as he rocked back and forth.
When Uncle Charlie spotted you, his face drew back in a snarl. “I told you, Tommy, didn’t I? Warned you against black blood gypsies.” He huffed out a breath through flared nostrils as he clenched his fist by his side. Tommy turned as though noticing you for the first time when Charlie called out, “Come on, Curly, let’s get out of ‘ere.” He pushed past you into the rain and you swallowed thickly at the hatred he felt for you and your kin.
As you watched them disappear into the night, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding and your eyes drifted toward your horse, now Tommy’s horse. You felt small and helpless, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. Coming to her side, you stroked the mare gently, laying your head against the velvety soft fur of her neck.
“Did you do this for revenge? Tell me the truth,” Tommy asked in Romani, voice tight with emotion, rain water dripping off his hair and into his long eyelashes.
“Is that what you think?” you breathed out in a whisper, looking up at him with a look of hurt and confusion.
Without another word, Tommy pulled his pistol from his jacket pocket and you shrunk away from him, feeling your heart pound in your chest, hands tingling and head feeling dizzy from adrenaline. You wondered if it wasn’t just Uncle Charlie who despised you. Did Tommy hold the same hatred? His distant stare chilled you and suddenly you were sure he was going to kill you as you thought of Polly’s words. Two days ago she had told you, “Now I don’t even recognize him.” Was he really so unpredictable? You’d seen him turn violent quickly so you knew it must be true. You closed your eyes, praying he’d dispatch you quickly.
You heard the gunshot, a deafening blast so close to you, it felt as though it had pierced your chest. However, when you pried your eyes open, you saw the horse fall onto its side with a sickening thud. You watched in horror as she died before you, the life draining from her eyes as wretched sounds were released from her body. Doubling over in silent sobs, you clasped a hand over your mouth. You wanted to look away, to believe it was a nightmare and this had never happened. Then Tommy’s voice cut through the fog and the ringing in your ears.
“Get out,” he said in a voice hovering over a whisper. You shivered involuntarily as you turned to watch him raise his gun a second time, but he only swiped his arm across his mouth. You noticed his breathing was irregular, chest heaving as though he might break down himself. He looked up at you with wild eyes, “I said, go. Get back to me brother’s house now!” You watched his hand tremble slightly and you imagined him burying you next to the beautiful horse. With that, you ran as fast as your legs would carry you. You slipped in the thick, black mud several times, falling on hard stone slicing your knees open as the cold rain pelted your face and arms, but somehow you couldn’t feel anything at all.
Cont. reading Part 3
----------------------------
Tag list:
@peakyswritings
@evita-shelby
@shelbydelrey
@alanadetigy
@wandawiccan60
@severewobblerlightdragon
@lovemissyhoneybee
@theshelbyslimited
@kittycatcait219
@peakyrogers
@christinasyellowflowers
@notyour-valentine
@theshelbyclan
@peaky-cillian
@kpopgirlbtssvt
@celticmelody
@cillmequick
@dreamlandcreations
@there-goes-thefighter
@rangerelik
@raincoffeeandfandoms
@babayaga67
@kmhappybunny240
@look-at-the-soul
@runnning-outof-time
@l1-l4
@floraroselaughter
@pherelesytsia
@mootiemoose
@babaohhhriley
@deeahhmaa
@literishdegree99
@padfootdaredmetoo
@koressecretidentity
#Peaky Blinders fanfic#Peaky Blinders imagine#Tommy Shelby#Tommy Shelby fanfic#Tommy Shelby imagine#Tommy Shelby x reader#Tommy Shelby x you
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The Neighborhood Watch, S3 ep3: Who Is She?
[Summary: Markus hangs out with their sister while Song and Louis head back to the casino only to make a discovery. John meets up with Clara and gets caught up in romance, and we learn new things about Shelby.]
(this one feels super long btw! It's very detailed bc im insane over the whole thing Oops)
@gr3y-plays-ttrpgs
The rest of the Main Cast approaches Marku's house; they open the door, and it smells like weed and Chinese food. Markus lights some incense for Louis (he Does Not like the smell of weed), and a voice calls out from the hall- Markus introduces the owner of the voice as Analetta, their sister who's going to to school in Japan but stopped by to say hello.
We finally get a description for Analetta: She's very plain-looking, with long straight hair and bangs, neutral clothes, etc- a pink hair clip is the most colorful thing on her.
She greets the Main Cast, shaking hands with the newcomers, but her gaze is stuck on Louis. She swears she's seen him before- he looks so familiar, but she can't remember where she's seen him. Louis is confused because they have met before, and comments it's merely a trick of the trade.
Markus complains about the couple who's doing this week-long tour thing for their bug exhibit, but hey at least they'll get money for it. They thank the rest of the Cast for coming over to meet Analetta; Family should meet friends, and Ana's the only family Markus has got. She's emotional over the fact her sibling has friends, finally.
Markus introduces the Cast to her, and I'm mildly offended on John's behalf that his hair was compared to ramen. Meanwhile, Analetta wonders if Markus has mentioned Shelby before- they deny it. Nope, not at all. They've literally never talked about her what do you mean.
Song and Louis mention they should get back home- they've got, uh, cooking lessons. Analette mentions she'd like to try some of the food they'll make, and the others chime in- Louis is internally panicking because they are not doing any actual cooking tonight, but Song remedies this by saying hey, how about Monday instead? She'd also like to use her new kitchen, since her house finally got rebuilt about the Gnome Incident.
There's a knock at the door- Gerald, the guard sent by Song's father to discreetly watch over her, is at the door asking for a cup of sugar with a very bad attempt at an American accent. Markus gives some to him, shenanigans ensue (i was afk </3, but at one point Louis, detecting Gerald's actual accent, spoke French to the man, and Gerald tried So Hard to pretend he didn't know that language) and Markus ends up slamming the door in his face. Song apologizes about the whole thing; her dad is overprotective. She says she'll talk to her dad about possibly lightening the security around her, since she can take care of herself/she's safe around the rest of the Main Cast.
Analetta mentions she ordered more food, but Song and Louis start to head out. Before the couple leaves, though, they take note of what the others like; Markus, with a cabinet full of instant ramen, lies and says Italian- Louis is hyped over the idea of making pasta from scratch.
Song puts $50 somewhere Markus can find it later to pay them back for the sugar (50 bucks?? yo???), and the couple heads off.
Shelby notes that John should be heading to that thing he needed to go to; Does he need a ride? John says he'll be fine walking, and he'll let Shelby knows how it goes- he'll try to be safe!
And so he starts the almost-hour-long walk, ruminating over everything that could possibly go wrong with it.
---
Shelby heads off to put on some more casual clothes, since she's still all dressed up from the casino- she'll be back in a moment! As she leaves, Analetta is adamant Markus has mentioned her before. She teases Markus about her, while they deny having ever talked about Shelby, until:
["my bugs are very good at getting rid of bodies," Markus states. It's a threat, but in the typical joking manner one has for a sibling.
"If you kill me," Analetta responds, "My body will rise up and annoy you forever."
"hm nevermind, i don't want that."]
Kyle, the only Doordash guy in town, finally arrives with the food Analetta ordered. Markus gives him a 40$ tip, and assures Kyle they'll be able to eat all of it; some people are coming over anyway.
Shelby returns, no longer in a dress but in a baggy sweatshirt, and she's hyped over the pizza and tacos they've got- there were only alcoholic drinks at the casino. Shelby tries to pay Markus back.
["How much do I owe you for this?"
"nothing. you're a friend."
"Markus, I can pay you back. I have money."
"so do i!"]
Shelby asks how the bug tours are going- horrible, answers Markus. They dislike the fame but they will keep taking people's money.
They offer her a joint, and upon her request they go to make brownies instead.
----
John's been fidgeting with his hands, and his phone starts to lag a little bit as he gets closer to the casino. Eventually he spots Clara leaving the building. Oh god, here we go.
Clara gives John that white person smile as she approaches (fuck). They have a short conversation, agreeing to go to the coffee shop in town since the casino is a bit... Well, it's a lot.
Clara offers to drive to the cafe, leading him to a motorcycle. John is impressed! She tells him she decided to use her first paycheck to buy her dream vehicle, and tosses him a spare helmet.
["You're going to have to hold on," She tells him as he gets on.
"To what?"
"To me," She says. "So you don't fall off."
"...oh!" Carefully, he does so, trying to be gentle with his claws.]
---
[The bike pulls into the parking lot of the shop; Grounded In Nature, the cat cafe that's also the only coffee shop in town.
"You can let go now, you know."
"Ah- sorry."]
As the two of them enter, some of the cats run away from them- John apologizes like it's his fault (it is). They sit down, place their orders, and after talking over each other at first, Clara tries again: It was a blur last time she saw him (she was in the forest??), and then there was a lot going on, she got a new job and didn't know how to contact him, and hadn't seen him in town.
Their drinks are brought over- the only employee had spelled their names wrong. A fluffy white cat, brave to approach them, sits next to Clara.
John apologizes for not seeing or contacting her- he doesn't say how he was nervous she'd see he looked different from last she saw him- and they begin to talk a bit more; Clara jokes about her job, John says he loves to listen to people talk about their interests, etc.
And John swears that the cat near her rolls its eyes, like it's tired of how awkward their chat is, and then it jumps up onto the table and knocks over Clara's drink!!! Hey now! >:-0
John stands up, apologizing like it's his fault the cat did that, grabbing a bunch of napkins for her and being like hey?? are you okay??? She says she's okay, it was iced coffee so it didn't hurt, and she needed to change out of her work uniform anyway.
Clara looks like she's struggling to say something else, and her gaze locks onto John's.
[Her eyebrows furrow slightly. "...Have your eyes always been that color?"
He looks away.]
She eventually asks if he and Shelby are dating- he stammers out a refusal, saying that while he cares very much about Shelby, he's not romantically interested in her. He leaves out how important she is to him, worrying that would hurt Clara's feelings.
["Okay, got it." Clara takes a breath, and meets his gaze.
"You know I like you, right?"]
There's about three seconds as John's brain catches up with what she said. There's a bit of war in his head- he's thrilled she likes him, but at the same time... there's no way, right? (Oh, the joys of low self-esteem)
[There's a small smile- a mix of disbelief and joy. "...You like me?"]
Clara apologizes for assuming that he and Shelby were together and for assuming he would know she liked him, and John apologizes for being oblivious, saying that no one's ever been interested in him before like this; he doesn't quite know what to do, but he can try this out.
They exchange numbers, and Clara offers him a ride home.
----
Song and Louis enter Lestat's home, and he greets them with a glass of what might be red wine, and a phone to show them all the social media posts people made about them at the casino; it's clear he wants to go there with them. Song and Louis jokingly make fun of Lestat's age and his language about social media apps.
["Lestat," Song asks, "How old are you anyway?"
"Old enough," He turns around. "But we're not here to recount tales of the French Revolution."]
They start to get ready, with Song and Louis picking out new suits and dresses for the night.
Song looks out the window, because she hears an engine- and sees John, getting off a bike with a woman!
Clara and John hug, and John is made aware of how easy it would be to hurt her in this moment- his small growl is hidden by the engine of her bike.
They pull away, and she drives off with a goodbye. John stands for a moment, reeling, until he sees Sammy and Heath pull up into their driveway- hey, Heath was taken away by the guards, remember? what's up?
So John goes up to greet the couple, asking what happened- Heath tells him that, well, it got loud in the casino, so Sammy had started using ASL to talk to him. The guards thought it was code or something relating to cheating at the casino games, Heath is saying, so they took him away just to look over the security footage. Other than that, they did pretty good at the casino and won some cash, as well as some compensation for the misunderstanding. They decided to go home right after.
John doesn't believe that because I don't, this casino is sketchy as hell, so he rolls to Investigate a Mystery and infers that Sammy seemed to have been in there way longer than it would've taken to just review footage. Suspicious but not knowing where to go from there, he bids them goodnight and heads over to Markus's.
["do you want a joint?" Markus holds one out to him.
"No, thank you," John says as he enters. "I'm fine." Weed wouldn't be good for him, given his tendencies.
They shrug, turning away. "okay, that's fine. don't eat the brownies, by the way; they've got weed in them."
John slowly puts the brownie in his hand back onto the tray.]
The four of them play board games and chat; Analetta shares embarrassing stories about Markus (though she's still confused over how she can't remember the details of them leaving), and Shelby shares some about her and John, mentioning that they met when she hit him with her car.
["How did you manage to do that?" Markus asks.
"It was dark!" She said. "I was in a hurry, and he just ran out into the road!"]
John asks why she had been it a hurry that night- this is new to him. It was an unspoken rule between them that they never talked about their pasts, but...
She explains that she's not originally from Greenville; she's from somewhere up East, but she had to get away, so she got in her car and drove as far as she could until she felt it was good enough to stop.
["And then when I hit John, I thought 'Oh, surely this can't get any worse!'"]
John is sympathetic, and Markus offers support. Shelby says she doesn't need to worry about that anymore- and besides, she's got John! He's tough! He jokingly(?) threatens to fight anyone who hurts her, and she lightly punches him in the arm in response.
Markus makes a comment that maybe if they get a divers license, that's how they can get more friends. John responds that maybe Not having one would increase their chances.
Eventually, Markus and Analetta head off to bed, and John and Shelby start their short walk back home.
["That was fun," Shelby said, walking ahead of John, "But I think I'm just gonna head to bed once we get inside."
John hummed, a tiny smile at his lips. "So do you want me to tell you the news tomorrow morning, then...?"
Shelby spun around to face him. "No no," she said, walking backwards with a grin. "You can't do that- you're telling me now."]
He reminds her of Clara, his old coworker, and that she confessed that she liked him; They might go on a date.
[Shelby pauses from unlocking the door. "That's..." She turns to him. "John, that's great!"
"I know, right!"]
The two of them enter the house as John expresses his amazement at this; he never thought that anyone would ever ask him out?? He asks Shelby for advice- because she's gone on dates before, right?
[She winces. "Yeah, uh- I don't really do the whole dating thing anymore. I haven't had much luck with that."]
She suggests the dinner Song and Louis are planning on Monday- unless John wants a private date, something more intimate? But he thinks back to the hug earlier, and says the dinner would be a better idea. He can call them tomorrow and ask if he can bring a plus-one.
Shelby mentions she's going to go to bed. As she gets up from the couch, she puts a hand on his arm. She tells him she's glad he's happy, and heads off to her room.
Markus goes to get water, but the thing is that their window can actually look directly into the window to Shelby's room; They see her close the door and fall onto her bed, sobbing.
They pull out their phone and call her. Shelby stops crying to answer it, and they ask if she's okay. She says she'll be fine.
["You know I'm only a phone call away," Markus offers.
They watch as she reaches for a plushie and hugs it tight. "...Thanks." She says nothing else.]
---
Meanwhile, the Trio (comprising of Louis, Song, and Lestat) heads back to the casino, dressed in fabulous outfits. Lestat had fed earlier, and due to the life running through him he's able to show up in photos for a bit. They enjoy themselves, and are invited up to the second floor of the casino.
It's grand, full of upper class ambience and elegant people at the tables- the Trio doesn't recognize anyone, but heads over to play one of the card games. There's a well-dressed man making his way to each group of people, chatting before moving on to then next group. Finally, he reaches these three and introduces himself as Mr. Grant, one of the people who helps run the Vault Casino. They compliment it, saying it's lovely.
Then Mr. Grant leans forward, asking Ms. Song O'Sullivan if he can speak to her privately- her eyes immediately go up to the security cameras (They're not looking at her). Louis gets bad vibes from this question and asks why can't all of them be there? Grant says its of a private and serious manner. Louis continues to object, and the man says it's about their.. extracurricular activities.
(monster hunting?)
Song sends her boyfriends a telepathic message, telling them that if she's not back in five minutes they can raze this casino to the ground. They let her go; Louis starts a timer on his phone.
Mr Grant leads her to the elevator, and they start to head up to the third floor- that's normally off-limits, isnt it?
A telepathic message from Song: "Third floor."
Two security guards approach Lestat and Louis, asking them to please come with them. Louis objects and Lestat tries to be civil, but the guards are firm.
Lestat also has telepathy, as he had used it last season, and he sends Louis a message: He's trying real hard to not tear these guards apart, as he's working on being a better person, so it would be in both their best interests to comply. Besides, they've worked together before, he and Louis- they can fight their way out later if needed.
The vampire and Southern gentleman finally comply, and are lead to the elevator- but unlike Song, they start going down.
Basement One.
Louis mentions they must be getting special treatment, then, if they're heading to an off-limits area! The security guards make a comment implying they've been bringing the supernatural folk (though they didn't quite use that phrasing, it was heavily implied) in town down to the basements- just for a little chat, is all.
["Well," said Louis, "If you know of those kinds of folk, then you surely know what me and my partner here are capable of?"]
Meanwhile, Song is on the third floor.
It's dark, with the only light source coming from below them; It's built almost like a balcony, with railings and windows that reveal the lower levels of the casino and everyone milling down below. The ceilings must be two-way mirrors.
There's a flick of a lighter from the far side of the room, and a dim glow as a cigarette is lit up. The lamps follow its lead, turning on and lighting up the place.
There's a woman on the far end, holding a long cigarette holder. She's got the beauty of an old movie star, with an elegant red dress, a feathered boa, and long black gloves.
"What's wrong, darling?" She asks Song. Their eyes are the same color; a deep blood red.
"...No hug for your mother?"
Notes/Commentary:
SO MUCH HAPPENED THIS SESSION?? I LOVE IT HERE
Also cheer for me, this one was almost entirely off memory. I'm so cool lmao
Why doesn't Analetta remember Louis? The way the DM played it seemed to be supernatural in nature... is it because Louis made a deal with the Devil? or is there something else to it?
Sorry, listen, i know i bring it up every time but Song's house getting blown up by gnomes is so wild to me. I love how that's a canonical thing.
Song with the sugar, pretty much:
"Would Shelby smoke weed?" "So fun fact I keep a list of everything we've ever learned about Shelby because I'm Normal about her-"
Shut up i lost it when Kyle finally showed up. He's only been mentioned and never shown, I feel like i met a celebrity /hj
I started YELLING at the white person smile comment i'm !!!!! OUGH i Knew it wouldve been awkward!!!
Those cats are so sentient. I'm calling it. Also do you think Jewel the employee mispells the customer names so they won't be taken by the fae who runs the cafe?? oh shit what if the cats were people-
During the cafe scene Markus's player sent a message in the chat like "Two autistic people flirting. beautiful <3"
I was so in-character!! /pos Not me going into my pockets like i had a flip phone in there aughgh
John never saying he liked Clara back!!! Only that he would like to try out dating!! bc thats what people do!!!! aaaa!!!!
There's some memory manipulation going on in that casino.
John and the hug was wild bc?? The dm was over here describing how she was small and I was all "well. might as well roll for hunger" and you would Not believe how badly I fucked that up lmao. I was going to spend a luck point; since the dm wasn't expecting me to roll for his hunger, though, he let me off the hook. Thanks DM <3
The "markus getting a car to make friends joke" was originally an ooc bit from earlier and then we just??? Acted it out? Love it here
SHUT THE UFKC UP IM GOING TO THROW MY CHAIR. ROOMMATE DUO ALWAYS HAD ANSGT POTENTIAL AND NOW ITS WORSE.
SHE LIKES HIM???? IM IN A LOVE TRIANGLE-
And Louis's player called it too!!! Like right before the scene that revealed Shelby likes John!!! Aaa!!! [Head in hands]
Also sorry that was Such a shock to me. I genuinely thought she was a lesbian
SONG'S MOTHER!?!?!?
That's why Greyson was doing this job thats why he said it was personal!! THATS HIS WIFE RUNNING THE PLACE!!! I thought she was dead!!!!!
We IMMEDIATELY ran to make theories about Song's mom: is she a demon? Is Song a pact child?? What if her mom's a dragon! Song has a fang earring doesn't she? Is the fact her mom's supernatural why she's so good at magic? What's her mother doing gathering all the supernatural folk anyway? Shaking my computer I WANT ASNWERS /lh
Hey. Hey DM. Is Emmett the AI man okay?? Why did you bring up the fact we havent heard from him in a while in the same breath as mentioning the casino's effect on our phones. SIR??? IS HE OKAY???
#eric finally speaks#motw campaign#john doe#the neighborhood watch#the neighborhood watch recap#monster of the week
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bloody hot characters covered in the good old fake haemoglobin — a hot and gory thread (1/?)
Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt in Midnight Mass
Performed by Hamish Linklater
Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Grove
Performed by Bill Skarsgard
Thomas Shelby in Peaky Blinders
Performed by Cillian Murphy
Dr. Hannibal Lecter in Hannibal
Performed by Mads Mikkelsen
Marc Spector | Steven Grant in Moon Knight
Performed by Oscar Isaac
Murdoc in MacGyver
Performed by David Dastmalchian
Clara Webb in Byzantium
Performed by Gemma Arterton
Adelaide Wilson in Us
Performed by Lupita Nyong'o
Escherich in Alone in Berlin
Performed by Daniel Brühl
Suzy Bannion in Suspiria (2018)
Performed by Dakota Johnson
Part 02 here! — Part 03 Here
#father paul#monsignor pruitt#midnight mass#hamish linklater#roman godfrey#hemlock grove#bill skarsgard#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#cillian murphy#dr hannibal lecter#hannibal#mads mikkelsen#marc spector#steven grant#moon knight#oscar isaac#dennis murdoc#macgyver murdoc#macgyver#david dastmalchian#clara webb#byzantium#gemma arterton#adelaide wilson#us#murdoc macgyver#lupita nyong'o
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