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mermaid-trash · 1 year

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Nothing but the Best

Thomas Thorne x Fem!Reader Smut

A/n: this one goes out to my Baynton Babes who totally inspired this work ❤️ this is smutty, so no minors allowed pls 🔞

Description: Thomas loves eating you out...that's literally all there is to it.

Word count: 866

Your muscles were aching from overstimulation, your throat scratched with every moan, and the sun had long since begun to set over Button House for the day, yet Thomas still seemed quite satisfied between your parted thighs. What had begun as a romantic midday rendezvous between you and your favourite poet had turned into several hours of his brown curls settled between your legs as his tongue delved deep into you and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you. Not that the time mattered, of course. You both had forever. The thought made you never want to leave this bedroom again.

You gasped as his tongue ventured up to circle your clit, blindly grabbing for his glossy chocolate curls to ground yourself as raw pleasure crackled in every nerve ending in your body. His hands held your hips down against the mattress firmly yet carefully, and his thumbs rubbed circles over your hip bones soothingly, the only reprieve he allowed you from his eager assault on your core.

His tongue began to dance in strange movements around your clit, and through the exhaustion that clouded your brain you slowly realised that he was tracing letters against your sensitive bud, writing incomprehensible words against your skin while his brown doe eyes studied you carefully, studying your reactions to see what brought the best noises from you.

"Are you…writing something?" You gasped out between moans, as his mouth did not give you a reprieve for even a moment.

For a few moments he didn't reply, too preoccupied with his chosen task, but eventually he withdrew his lips from your core just enough to mumble, "Yes, my love."

His tongue dragged up the length of your slit eagerly, eliciting another broken gasp from you, before he added in clarification, "Poetry."

He returned to his task, his tongue darting this way and that over your clit sloppily, and you wriggled against his solid grip on your hips in an attempt to get more satisfaction.

Through the haze of pleasure that coated your senses you tried to follow his movements and recognise the letters he was tracing in cursive.

R…A…D…I…A…N…T…

W…A…R…M…T…H…

G…O…D...D…E…S…S…

Each word filled your heart with warmth and brought you that much closer to the edge that he had already pushed you over so many times today, and you arched against his mouth with a desperate whine. Thomas groaned, pulling away from your soaked core and fixing you with an awe-struck look that made your heart sing.

"My love, I have not written in so long…" he began somewhat wistfully, tracing his hands from your hips down your inner thighs with a delicate, barely there touch that had your thighs trembling with excitement, "but your body is the finest medium to trace my work onto that I could have hoped for, my love."

With that he dove back in, and after his sincere words you wouldn't have the heart to stop him even if you had wanted to. He watched you from behind hooded eyes and groaned as you rocked your hips needily against his face, still writing his beautiful words of praise against your clit with enthusiastically sloppy movements.

W…O…R…S…H…I…P…

H…E…A…V…E…N…L…Y…

A…D…O…R…E…

His wonderful tongue had barely finished tracing the last letter of this declaration of his feelings before you were diving over the precipice, back arching and mouth hanging open in a silent wail as he continued his onslaught. He abandoned his writing to fix his lips around your clit and suck gently, prolonging your orgasm until your body seemed to melt against the mattress,your muscles all turning into jelly under the intensity of your orgasm.

As you came down, face flushed and stray hairs stuck to your moist forehead, Thomas pressed soft kisses to the skin of your thighs and murmured words of praise that you couldn't hear past the roaring in your ears. For a few moments you simply laid there, basking in the warmth of the moment with him, slowly catching your breath as your fingers absently toyed with his impossibly soft curls.

"That…wasn't really poetry, darling." You said eventually with a soft smile, "They were just words."

Thomas hummed, and you glanced down to see the same soft smile you wore mirrored on his own lips, his head resting against your thigh. His chin was still slick with your wetness, causing heat to flare in your cheeks.

"You do not think that that lived up to my usual work?" He asked, his voice playful and light, and you pretended to think for a moment.

"It was very…stream of consciousness." You retorted just as playfully. Suddenly, Thomas's hands had siezed your hips again, and you looked down at him in surprise to see a glint of mischief behind his brown eyes.

"Perhaps I should try again, then?" He offered, lips dropping to hover over your sensitive centre, his breath whispering over your soaked folds tantalisingly. "After all, you deserve nothing but the best that I can offer you."

A tiny whimper escaped you; it seemed you wouldn't be leaving this room for a while longer.

And what a way to spend an afterlife, you thought, as Thomas's mouth met your skin once again.

#thomas thorne x reader #thomas thorne x you #thomas thorne smut

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jamiewintons · 1 year

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Thomas helping you through a depressive episode would include...

Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: Depression. Thomas Taglist: @pink-booty-butts, @demontoucansam, @the-fandomgremlin, @veeraine, @iwillstealyourtoes-wattpad, @glow-inthe-darkstarz, @memelous-mrs-maisel, @agir1ukn0w, @definetlynotasmutaccount, @thingses-and-stuffses (Please fill this form out if you want to be added!)

● Thomas can tell immediately when you're having an episode. Though he can be rather inconsiderate of other people's feelings, you're his top priority and he always makes sure to know what's going on with you.

● He would slowly approach and sit down beside you, before speaking to you in a gentle voice. "Are you feeling alright, my love?"

● Thomas wouldn't touch you at this point, keeping himself at a respectable distance. He knows that sometimes when you're feeling like this, you prefer to be left alone, but he will always check what you need.

● When you shake your head to indicate that you're not feeling alright, Thomas would ask you if you wanted to talk about it. If you wanted to talk, Thomas would sit with you for as long as it took for you to get everything off your chest, shunning all other distractions.

● If all you needed was for him to hold you, he would certainly be more than willing to do that. He'd wrap you up in his arms, allowing you to lay your head against his chest, and whisper sweet nothings to you; telling you how much he adores you and how precious you are to him.

● Knowing how loved you are is soothing to your mood, and you can feel the emptiness inside you slowly being replaced with warmth thanks to Thomas' presence.

● Thomas makes sure to remind you that no matter how you're feeling, he will always love you, and he will always be around to care for you.

Requests for fics/drabbles, headcanons, and character preferences are currently OPEN!

#thomas thorne x reader #thomas thorne x you #would include #thomas thorne imagine #bbc ghosts imagine #ghosts imagine #thomas thorne headcanon #bbc ghosts headcanon #ghosts headcanon #mari's stuff

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 3 months

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The Other Shelby Girl

Platonic!Shelby Siblings x reader

Headcanon/Imagine for a second Shelby Sister. Explores dynamics with each sibling based on of the reader were their older or younger sibling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of war, violence, period-typical sexism, over-protective sibling drama.

Arthur

Older Sister:

You are the third most respected woman in Arthur’s life, which is greater than it sounds. First was Mum, then Polly. To be succeeded only by Polly in Arthur Shelby’s eyes is precious. He’s always looked up to you, but didn’t always show it. After the war, Arthur would come to rely on you heavily for emotional support. There were nights he would come to your home and no be able to speak. Where he would seem to turn back into a little boy, crying into your shoulder as he begs you not to speak of this to the others. When Arthur met Linda, you were one of the few to be supportive. You are Arthur’s greatest advocate, but his pride and Tommy’s influence make it hard to help him. When you have a family of your own, it’ll only make things harder. You often feel like you have to take sides. Still, you do what you think is best.

Younger Sister:

Depending on just how young you are, Arthur might try to put on like he’s your Dad. Arthur doesn’t always know how to talk to you. You’re just a young woman, he doesn’t feel like he can talk to you the way he does with John or Tommy. He wants to tease you and pick on you as he would with Finn, but he can’t. The moment you hit out your bottom lip and look like your feelings got hurt, Arthur is a flustered mess of a guilty brother. You might resist his attempts at being fatherly, or welcome them. Regardless, you can see that Arthur just wants you to know he’s a safe space for you. Maybe if you ask him nice enough, he’ll teach you how to draw horses like he used to. No matter how old you get, Arthur is the brother that still sees you as a little girl.

Thomas

Older Sister:

Before the war, Tommy only saw you as someone who nagged at him. The meddling older sister warning him away from throwing curses at people and fighting with the cops. After the war, you became something far more delicate than that. You became something like his conscience. That pleading voice that begged for peace and forgiveness that grows fainter every year. As adults, you swear sometimes he hates you. The way he disregards you and keeps you at arm’s length. In actuality, he’s only trying to avoid the shame your hopeful gaze gives him. It was you who tried to get the brothers to hide from the draft. It was you who told him getting involved in London affairs would be dangerous. You who told him not to accept anything from the Russians. You were always right. Always good. He also feels he must protect you because you know him when he was soft and weak. Aside from Polly, you’re the last person who ever heard him laugh.

Younger Sister:

He lumps you in with Ada without really meaning to. You and Ada are both younger, and are both girls. As such, you both have similar problems that have his head aching and his trigger finger itching. Two pretty girls tend to attract a lot of scummy men. You’re both so stubborn about not needing anything from him, which is bloody absurd. Of course you need his help. Whatever money you’re making doing legitimate work isn’t going to be enough to keep you safe. You have never gone on a single date without someone Peaky Blinder watching you. Arthur tries to give advice like he’s your dad, and Tommy drops rules on you like he’s your dad. He has absolutely said the phrase, “And where are you going dressed like that?” Tommy will kill your ex-boyfriends if asked, he already knows why you want them dead and he agrees. The only thing he likes more than you accepting his help is hearing you admit he was right.

John

Older Sister:

He is the little brother who reads your diary and eats your food after being told not to. As a kid, John was Hell on legs. As an adult, John is still Hell on legs but with children. Growing up, you spent a lot of time picking John up from police stations and headmaster offices. John stresses you out like he’s being bloody paid for it. But, he loves you dearly and you forgive him more often than you should. John has called you “Mum,” as a joke many times but it’s not quite a lie. As an adult, he is far more respectful towards you. He is one to bow his head when you lecture him about fatherhood and how his drinking is going to harm his children. John respects you enough to take his cap off when he enters your home. However, he’ll still gobble down any treats you’ve left out in the kitchen and have the audacity to say, “What?!” When you shout at him for it.

Younger Sister:

John will not only read your diary and eat your snacks, but he will loudly announce your crush the moment he finds out. Any reluctance Arthur has about picking on you is nonexistent in John. He is a fully grown man who is unafraid to tease you with schoolyard chants in public spaces. Has walked into your room while you were reading just to slap something off of your desk and run. John has spent so long as the younger brother, he has to get his kicks where he can. That said, nobody better say anything rude to you. Ever. One time, a mate of his simply repeated a mean name he had called you and John slugged him for it. Nobody is allowed to annoy you but him. John is obnoxious in an almost biblical sense, but he is the one to see you cry and ask: “Who did that to you.”

Ada

Older Sister:

Yet another sibling to boss her around. Excellent! Ada is one who would resist you trying to take care of her. She doesn’t want to hear your advice! She doesn’t need it! Until her first heartbreak and then she’s sobbing on your bed waiting for you to come home. Ada hates to feel dependent on others, but she does trust you. There’s something special about having a sister. You understand each other in a way your brothers never will. The fear that builds as a man walks a few yards behind you out in the streets at night. How every romance has that bitter taste as you think about all that you’ll lose if you were to get married. Ada gets her best advice from you, but you’re also her security. You were probably the one to start taking her to the movie theater. It’s likely that Ada imitates you subconsciously. When you got your hair bobbed, so did Ada. When you started wearing heels, so did Ada. She denies it, but it’s obvious that she follows your lead.

Younger Sister:

Might be a sad thing to say, but Ada didn’t think much of you until she had Karl. You were just this clinging little sister that everyone thought she was supposed to take care of. All you did was follow her about town and put your nose where it didn’t belong. Tommy probably found out about her and Freddie through you. You don’t mean to be annoying, you’re just lonely. Ada couldn’t see that until she had a child and a home away from Small Heath. The dynamic flips hard when Ada comes back to Small Heath. Ada is all about leading you in “the right direction,” and is very serious about your education. She essentially begs Tommy to set aside money for you to go to university when you express interest. You want to be in with the Peaky Blinders, though. Oh, God. You’re in your rebellious phase and Ada wants to shake you till you forget all about jazz and pretty boys with guns. You both adore each other, but you butt heads over where your life is going and who should have a say in what direction it goes.

Finn

Older Sister:

Between you, Polly and Ada, he’s almost got a mother. As a young boy, Finn has actually called for you as his mother by accident. It makes sense. You were often left in charge of him. To Finn, you are all that he knows. It’s often left to you to make sure he goes to school and stays out of trouble. You’ve spent many afternoons arguing with his teachers to give him a second chance. Finn needs that, someone to stick up for him. That doesn’t mean he always likes it though. Finn wants to be a gangster, like his older brothers. You want him to do literally anything but that. When Tommy, Arthur, and John, pick on him too much you are the one to back Finn up. He used to like it… until he was roughly twelve. What used to be you coming to his rescue has become you inadvertently humiliating him. You try to back off, but Finn makes poor choices for himself which require you to come save him. Therefore, the cycle continues.

Younger Sister:

You are the only one beneath him in the Shelby Family Pecking Order, and he lives for it. When Finn has a bad day, he takes it out on you. Why not? It isn’t like he had anyone else he can push around and be the boss of. So, he’ll cut your dolls’ hair, call you names, and make fun of the things you like. But only if there’s other boys who can see him do it. When he goes too far and you cry, he has to answer to all of your siblings and Polly. Finn picks on you to soothe his own ego. When it’s just you and Finn, he’s very quiet. You two can spend hours not talking but be perfectly happy. Finn likes to turn on the radio and just sit, listening to music or the results of a boxing match. Sometimes, he vents to you about how Tommy wouldn’t let him do this or do that. You always listen to him. Finn usually takes these quiet times to apologize for past pranks or insults. You always forgive him. It’s odd to you how your accepting of his apology seldom puts him in a better mood. Truth is, he’s very jealous of you.

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #arthur shelby #peaky blinders headcanon #john shelby #ada shelby #ada thorne #finn shelby #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders imagine #platonic

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little-candy-store-of-horrors · 5 months

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They put the "hopeless" in "hopeless romantic"

#Yaknow actually that should be the ship name. I don't ship them but for those of yous who do. Proposing 'Hopeless Romantic'.#((he's hopeless she's romantic even though theyre technically both. He is SO hopeless help me))#bbc ghosts #six idiots #thomas thorne #kitty higham #horrible histories #mat baynton #mathew baynton #lolly adefope #Them there #Kitmas #my art #Anyway they are autism x adhd solidarity change my mind

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an-egg-on-it · 23 hours

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LISTEN if Jim Jimenez's favorite color is teal and Aziraphale's favorite color is yellow THEN SURELY THOMAS'S FAVORITE COLOR BEING BURGUNDY MEANS SOMETHING

#ARE YOU HEARING ME?#FAVORITE COLORS THAT ARE THE OTHER HALF OF THE SHIP??#HELLO???#jim jimenez #jim x oluwande #ofmd #our flag means death #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #thomas thorne #kitmas #bbc ghosts #caps tw #realized i had to specify which jim i was talking about #BUT SERIOUSLY #THE EARING #THE EYES #THE ENTIRE GODDAMN DRESS

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queenmollixofshadows · 1 year

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Alastair I love you but you’re so dumb

#how can he not know Thomas loves him #or anyone #a fool I tell you a fool #chain of thorns #chot #cot #chain of thorns spoilers #chot spoilers #cot spoilers #thomastair #alastair carstairs #alastair x thomas #thomas x alastair #thomas lightwood #the last hours #tlh #tsc #cassandra clare

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adhdthomasthorne · 1 year

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When Thomas and Kitty get together (yes, I’m at the point where I’m saying when rather than if), they’re going to be super sappy and annoying, to the point where it gets weird for the other ghosts and probably Alison too.

So I’m just imagining that Pat gets all the other ghosts together for a special meeting, where he talks very vaguely about how “some people’s” PDA is making everyone else uncomfortable.

And then you’ve got Thomas and Kitty, completely oblivious, sitting there like:

#mari speaks #thomas x kitty #kitty x thomas #kitmas #gorgeous georgians #bbc ghosts #thomas thorne #kitty higham #eventually thomas is like ‘are you talking about us???’#and then julian is like ‘well who the hell else would we be talking about???’#idk i just think this would be funny

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pinballlizard · 2 years

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So yeah how we feeling about Thomas x Kitty everyone?

#they’re the ship you never knew you needed #until you realised what besties they are and that they should get to kiss actually #even if you don’t see them as romantic #they’ve got to be one of the best dynamics in the show #spoilers for 4x01 I guess?#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts season 4 spoilers #bbc ghosts kitty #bbc ghosts Thomas #thomas x kitty #thomas thorne x kitty #covering all bases #I just think they’re neat :)

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the-painhunter-chronicles · 1 year

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anyway

"Let me love you" >>>>>>>>> "I love you"

#tell me it's not the most romantic thing you could ask someone #chain of thorns spoilers #chain of thorns #the last hours #thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #thomas x alastair

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boredfangirl16 · 1 year

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I physically cannot see the word ‘sanctuary’ and not think about the sanctuary scene. Like in Chain of Thorns they would reference it and I would be like “we all know what else happened in the sanctuary”.

#as you all can tell im obsessed with thomastair #always have been always will be #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomas x alastair #thomastair #chain of thorns #Chain of Iron

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strayrockette · 2 years

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Your Baby (Modern John x f!reader)

Summary: John and Katie ignite something inside of her but she's too afraid to do anything about it. Pairing: John x F! reader Genre: Fluff (?) Trigger warning: None A/N: I wanted to make something less angsty. I tried to catch all my grammar mistakes but I'm sure some escaped my searching eyes o-o.

John Shelby Masterlist

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

I once proclaimed that I would never be a mother. Growing up in a dysfunctional home caring for 4 other children while also being a child had warped my view of adulthood. The glaring realization that adults have kids so kids can take care of kids. The thought alone pissed me off. But even as I grew older I also realized that adults were just kids with more responsibilities and that certainly ruined any and every perception I had about entering the real world.

Even now at the age of 26, I still felt more like a child than I did as an adult. That sorry statement was an ego bruiser. And yet, here I sit, in a shoddy bar, drink in hand and a growing longing to have the one thing I vehemently denied wanting.

The bar's patrons were slowly dissipating, and a quiet lull crept into its atmosphere. I'd never been to any bar beside this one, and I would never go to another because I quite liked this one.

Drunk old men minding their business and drunk old ladies trying to get the drunk old men into their beds. Strange. I thought it was the other way around.

My lips quirked as I watched one lady lean into an otherwise occupied man, Budweiser to his lips, and his eyes concentrated on whatever sports channel was playing. He seemed uninterested but by the way, his lips curved into a smile I assumed he liked what she was saying. It took another 3 minutes of her talking for him to decide to get up and leave the bar with her.

I went back to staring down at my drink and desperately trying to chase away thoughts of blue-eyed babies babbling in my arms. What time is it? I sighed and glanced around for the familiar clock on the wall, 1:30 am. Almost 2 am and nearing closing time. How much longer would I sit and stare at a drink I wouldn't even touch?

My skin prickled as a figure brushed against my right side. One hand settling on my lower back and the other sweeping in front of me to grab the glass of bourbon, "I'll never understand why you order this if you don't drink"

"The bartender stops serving drinks at 1 and you always get here by 1:30." I mused, "I order it for you, dummy."

His lips pursed at my statement and he turned away from me, "You don't have to"

I watched idly as he lifted the glass to his lips and downed the drink in one sip, "I know."

He'd complain multiple times about my tendency to visit the bar during the nights he would be overseeing it on behalf of his older brother. He'd complain that I didn't have to come on Friday nights and stay till 2 am. That I didn't have to keep him company with late-night talks and dinner. I wasn't obligated to do what I did. But I wanted to. Because without these weekly late-night meet-ups, I'd have to go back to my empty apartment and think about how I wasn't good enough for a man I had given-been prepared to give- everything to.

"You're thinking about him again." His voice tugged me away from my thoughts.

I watched as he assessed me with pale blue eyes. He seemed exhausted. He must have had a rough time dealing with whatever mess lay within the paperwork left behind by his brother. But no matter how exhausted he looked he still looked handsome.

I sighed, "I haven't thought about him for a while...I mean yes, in passing but lately I've been thinking about other things."

John nodded along with my words, his ears twitched and I wondered if he knew that it meant he was happy about something.

"I've got food prepared back home" I paused, "Do..You want to join me?"

"Have you known m to say no to food?" He questioned in mock disbelief.

"No, but it's always nice to ask." I retorted with a smile.

We left after making sure that Mari and Luke would be set to close down the bar. The way to my apartment was spent in silence, my thoughts once again drifting to blue-eyed babies. It seemed to be around him only made those thoughts worse.

It was nearing 3 am and it was almost time for him to leave to go back home. My hands ran through my hair, eyes staring at the clock.

"How's Katie?" I asked. I'd met Katie a couple of times over the past 5 months. She was a lovely little girl, aged 5. She had a bright smile and was smart as a whip.

He sighed, I'm sure there was a story behind that. "She's giving you trouble" I giggled knowingly. Katie had a way of getting under her father's skin. She nagged him more than anyone and she did it with an innocent look in her eyes and a sweet smile.

He laughed, "More than that, she's angry at me for whatever reason."

He re-rolled the sleeves of his button-up and leaned over to grab his drink of water, "Everything I do displeases her," he waved his hand into the air and mimicked her voice, "you're incompetent daddy, that's okay not everyone can be like uncle Tommy"

My eyes widened and I roared with laughter, "She did not say that!" I exclaimed.

He turned to look at me with a deadpan look, "She did. With a sweet smile at that."

He huffed, lips touching the glass before pulling it away again, "I don't know what she wants." He shook his head at his confession, "Last week she yelled at me because I came home too early. Can you imagine?" He paused, his eyes comically wide and annoyed, "being yelled at for being home too early."

He muttered to himself, "Almost afraid to go home, now." He took a sip from the glass and put it down, "Mans not safe in his own home."

I found myself doubling over and laughing. My stomach clenched and my breath ran out but I couldn't stop laughing. I could only imagine Katie wearing her little princess pajama dress and staring irritably at her father for being home early.

He leaned back onto the couch and huffed, "Yeah, go on then. Laugh at my predicament."

I shook my head, lifting my hand to stifle my mouth in hopes of stopping the laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just"

I coughed and giggled, "It's too funny," I sighed and shifted my legs underneath me, and asked thoughtfully, "What's she doing up at 2 am on a weekend?"

Weekends were the only nights John went home late into the morning. Polly or Ada would watch Katy on the weekends so he could take over the late shifts from Arthur, so Arthur could go home to his own wife and kids.

On weekdays he was usually done with work by the time she got off school so he could spend time with her. She never once complained about that, so I assumed she complained about him being home on time on the weekends.

"She was having a Harry Potter movie night with Ada and Charlie, I walked in all excited to join in and she turns to me with chocolate on her face and glares" He paused, his head shaking, "The little thing glared at me! As if she hadn't been the one to ask me to come home on weekends to join movie nights"

He plopped his head against the couch and closed his eyes, "She's sending me mixed signals, I'll tell yah."

I laughed and leaned in to run my hand through his hair and coed, "Poor Johnny, his own little girl wants nothing to do with him. What shall we do?"

The room went silent for a moment and the dim lighting of my living room added a thickness that wasn't present earlier. Or maybe it was the fact that I was unreasonably close to John. Close enough to see the way his eyes dilated when he opened them. Close enough to feel the heat of his skin mere inches from mine.

"I love your eyes" I breathlessly admitted. I almost didn't want to say it but I couldn't stop myself from letting the words escape.

That should have been all there was to it. Admit to how much I loved his eyes and pull away. That would be the safer option. But I found myself gravitating closer. His nose brushed against mine and I could feel his hands gently slithering over my hip and settling on my waist.

"You don't think about him?" He asked quietly. His eyes searched mine. Wanting, waiting. "No." I whispered, "Just you."

My heart exploded at my confession and my face heated. The last time I had really thought about my ex was months ago and that was only when I realized that I deserved more than what he had given me.

He hummed in response a smile slowly forming, "Good."

He tugged me closer till I was pressed into his lap and his arms were wrapped around me, holding me in place. And before I could overthink what was happening his lips were pressed into mine. His kisses were soft and firm. His hands roamed over my waist and back.

His touch left a trail of fire upon my skin and before I could be set aflame, I pulled away.

My heart raced as I blurted, "This isn't a one-time thing."

He nodded, "I was hoping it wouldn't be." His hands trailed over my leg in soothing circles.

Fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, I asked hesitantly, "What about Katie?"

"Katie loves you." I knew that. But I often worried that she didn't actually like me. What if she secretly hates me? What if she doesn-

"She really cares about you, you know. I've never seen her get attached to someone else as quickly as she did you."

My mouth parted and a soft 'oh' escaped. I hadn't known that. But then again I had tried really hard to make her feel comfortable with me. Which wasn't hard. She was a sweetheart underneath her shyness. Getting to know her had been a joy. It still is. It was also one of the many growing reasons for my secret longing.

I tried to think of any other concerns and my silence must have worried him because he asked, "Are you looking for an excuse to not be with me?"

There was a level of vulnerability in his voice I was not familiar with. Exasperation and love, yes. I've even heard him when he got angry at a soccer mom for calling him a babysitting dad. As if, the idea that he could be a businessman and a full-time loving father was out of the realm of possibility.

"No, I just." My words fell flat, "I-"

He sighed and lifted me off his lap, gently guiding me to the couch cushion,"I shouldn't have come."

He stood and began to fix his sleeve to put his suit jacket on, "You're clearly not over your ex and I shouldn't have held out hope."

"Wait, no-"

"And I understand that he hurt you but I'm not him." He ran his hand through his hair, "I've got me own problems to deal with and one of my biggest responsibilities is me daughter." His eyes bore into mine with sincerity, "Look her well-being comes first and I would never jeopardize her happiness and you make her happy. But every time I think we're getting somewhere you pull away and make up excuses and I'm tired of having to justify why I would never ruin what we could have for some quick fuck with a random."

He closed his eyes and breathed out, "I'll give you some space but I don't think we should see each other anymore."

My heart plummeted, "What no! Look, John, that's not-"

I stood and tried to reach for him but he pulled away and shook his head. His lips pursed and his eyes turned hard as if to steel himself from whatever I might say. He walked around me and towards the door. I watched with wide eyes as he got further and further from me.

If I didn't stop him, I was sure I'd never see him or Katie again. The thought alone pierced my heart.

"I want to have a baby with you!" I exclaimed, "I just didn't want to say anything and every time you touch or kiss me it gets harder to ignore"

Silence followed my outburst and I couldn't stop talking. "I always told myself that I would never be a mother and that alone only seemed to solidify when I realized my partner of six years had been cheating on me. I was so certain I would never want it..but then I met you and Katie and well, that idea kind of went out the window, and then I started to get worried because of Katie and I didn't want to make her feel like I was replacing her mom or replacing her and-"

My rant was cut off with a kiss. I stumbled backward due to the force with which he launched himself at me. His hands held onto my hips, pulling me in.

"I thought you were leaving?" I teased.

He trailed kisses down my neck, teeth gently nipping at my sin, "No, we've got a baby to make."

Taglist: @mysticalpandora @ultimatreality @lovecleastrange @watercolorskyy @rockerchick05 @lyarr24

#john shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby x you #john shelby x oc #john shelby one shot #ada thorne #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #daddy john #peaky fucking blinders

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jamiewintons · 1 year

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Being in a poly relationship with Thomas and Kitty would include…

Requested by: Anonymous. Warnings: Ghost!Reader. Thomas Taglist: @pink-booty-butts, @demontoucansam, @the-fandomgremlin, @veeraine, @iwillstealyourtoes-wattpad, @glow-inthe-darkstarz, @memelous-mrs-maisel, @agir1ukn0w, @definetlynotasmutaccount, @thingses-and-stuffses Kitty Taglist: @pink-booty-butts, @agir1ukn0w, @memelous-mrs-maisel (Please fill this form out if you want to be added!)

● All three of you would be equally madly in love with each other, and in the beginning you wouldn't really know what to do about your feelings. It'd take you all a while to realise that you could all be together romantically at once, but once you do, no one would be able to stop you.

● You would get judged by some of the other ghosts — particularly Lady Button — for the unconventional nature of your relationship, but you wouldn't care in the least because you’re so happy.

● Thomas would write poems for you and Kitty, and you would both love it; because when his feelings are real, Thomas can write some beautiful things.

● The three of you would love to cuddle up on the sofa together during Film Club, especially when you watch romantic comedies.

● You would irritate the other ghosts with how lovey-dovey you can get sometimes. Your loud declarations of love for each other would make Julian roll his eyes.

● The Captain would keep a close eye on both you and Thomas, ensuring that you're treating Kitty well (of course you are, because you both adore her).

● Alison would (jokingly, of course) thank you for keeping Thomas and Kitty out of her hair.

● You and Kitty would defend Thomas when the other ghosts make fun of him, and cheer him up if he’s sad afterward.

● One of your favourite activities would be taking long walks around the grounds, just the three of you. You'd tell each other stories about things that happened while you were alive.

● Never, for even one moment, would you doubt how loved you are by both of them.

Requests for fics/drabbles, headcanons, and character preferences are currently OPEN!

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crinkly-spinkly · 1 year

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Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!! ❤️ Hope Miss Y/n is ready for these relentlessly down bad idiots to pull no punches 👉👉

#heeheehee #spinkly sketches #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #ttte #ttte human au #ttte james #james x reader #james the red engine #he'll sweep you off your feet and throw you onto the floor #you're going to be picking rose thorns out of his face for the next hour

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helltoyourdoorstepbtch · 2 years

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BBC Ghosts Memes 1

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inkwell-illustrations · 7 months

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kitmas fic prompt: kitty asks thomas if he could tell her that poem about the egg again - turns out when thomas Actually has a crush, he gets really really shy

Egg Poem BBC Ghosts Kitmas fanfic

Word count: 388

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, I really hope you enjoy it (this is my first writing request sorry if its bad)

Requested by: Anonymous

It was a bright sunny day at button house and Thomas was sitting at the window cell looking thoughtfully outside trying to compose a new poem. He’d thought a look at nature would give him the inspiration to compose a new poem after many failed attempts. “Hello Thomas” Kitty said walking in the room “hello Kitty” Thomas responded sounding lost in thought. “Do you need something?” Thomas asked as Kitty sat next to him. “I was wondering if you could tell me that egg poem again.”

Kitty said smiling “really?” Thomas asked, shocked at Kitty's request. “Oh yes, I've been thinking about it for a while, and I would love to hear it again!” She responded, Thomas sat there in awe in all his years no one ever asked him to recite a poem for them. “Certently Kitty” he responded. "Wonderful, thank you Thomas" Kitty said with that same cheery smile that never failed to make Thomas smile .

"Of course, make yourself Comfortable." Thomas responded as he got up from the window cell. Dusting himself off and standing in a professional position As kitty sat there excitedly. As he recalled the words to the poem His undead heart started to skip as he saw kitty's bright smile shining in the sun. Excitedly awaiting the poem.

Unknown to Kitty Thomas had began to develop a massive, growing crush on her. Finally the words came back to him as he started to recite the poem. Stammering over a few words when he saw Kitty smile at particular parts when he was finally finished Kitty stood up and applauded him "That was wonderful Thomas you really are the best poet in the house!" Kitty said grinning. Thomas smiled at the sound of Kitty's genuine praise

"Thank you, Kitty you truly are, an angel" Thomas responded holding one of Kitty's hands in his. As Kitty brought one hand up to hold Thomas's face her fingers gently brushing against his cheek as the two leaned closer together as Thomas brought his free hand up to hold Kitty's before quickly kissing.

"Was that alright?" Thomas asked flustered, this being his first kiss in century's. "Yes I actually quite enjoyed it" Kitty said cheerfully smiling happily "can we do it again?" She asked "Of course my angel" Thomas said before going to kiss Kitty again

#anonymous #thomas x kitty #kitty bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts kitty #kitty x thomas #bbc ghosts kitmas #kitmas #thomas bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts thomas #thomas thorne #please be nice #my wrtitng #hope you enjoy #kitmas fanfic #anon ask #anonymous request #bbc ghosts

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sadattemptofawriter · 2 years

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Dual Nature (Tommy Shelby x Female OC)

Summery: Life in Birmingham is hard for every unfortunate soul that lives in it, but it is especially difficult for women. And if that woman has no man of her own and no family to call her own, then life is difficult in even more convoluted ways. If that woman is fair of face, then she has little choice to become a whore. Minerva knows this and, tired of constant unwanted attentions she, hatches a plan. A plan that if done right will ensure her an honorable job with decent wages, and if undone will most likely get her killed. But she is willing to try anything to avoid prostitution.

One day, Minerva Griffin made a point to show herself leaving her home, moving out and leaving it for someone else. So that her brother, Byron Griffin, can come and stay. Byron Griffin, who is a scrawny lad, but eager to work with a funny girlish way about him.

Note: this was originally meant to be a reader insert series, but I got carried away with choosing names. I chose Byron for the male persona, and then the rest just came poring down. But if you want to, you can read it as a reader insert. I didn't include much of any physical depictions.

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Chapter 1 - Muddy roads of Birmingham

"Fuck.fuck. fuck." I mutter under my breath as I try desperately to fix the broken cabinet door. "Fuck this. Fuck this."

Finally exhausted, I slide down and sit on the ground my head leaning against the one measly barley held together chair. "Why did I thought I could do this? Why did I thought I could do this?"

When I sold everything I owned and moved to Birmingham, I knew my life would have been hard, I had no doubts about the hardships of the working class. But I suppose I was still very naive and optimistic if I thought I could easily adapt to it. Knowing is one thing, but actually doing it is something entirely else.

Why I thought a young girl of previously upper middle class can survive in Birmingham is beyond me. I suppose at the time I thought it would be better than staying in London, in that empty house I could no longer afford to maintain. and much, much better than to get married just for the sake of a roof over my head. I thought my father and six brothers going off to France, leaving me and my heart broken mother had made me stronger, made a more capable woman. But I suppose I still had privileges then I didn't know how to live without.

But I don't have any of those now. I don't have a mother to help me with cooking or sewing, no. She got remarried and moved to America with her new husband. Logically I know I can't blame her, the war took away seven of her family. Her husband that she had loved, my father, and six of her sons. I just wish I was enough reason for her to stay. Hell, I just wish I was enough that she would want to take me with her. Album she had married a younger man, and he didn't want to raise another man's child. I understood that. Maybe I shouldn't have been so understanding.

I came to Birmingham, to get closer to him. To where he started at. To where he was. Then again, he had made it so very clear he didn't want me or any of my brothers here, in all the mud and soot and filth. I get it now. I didn't then.

Shaking my head I get up once more to have another go at the cabinet door. I had made a decision, I had made a choice. To give up being an upper middle class lady that's barley saving face and go down to my late father's roots.

He married up. I know that much. He and my mother had fallen in love at the races. He had been a working class stable boy, working for my grandfather and my mother had a prized purebred horse she would visit every day.

Here, without a man, without a father or a brother all I am is a pretty face. If I'm not a whore now than I am considered a soon to be whore. If only I had a family member. A mother or a brother even if younger. But a lone woman? I must be one of those then.

I pick up the tools I had borrowed and began to fiddle with the damn door again. The first few days of Birmingham's general roughness had already made my hands bleed a few times. That is not to say my hands no longer bled. As if to prove a point to me, right then my palms bled again, the tools too hard and rough for my hands. I learned to ignore them. If I wasted time over every cut I get I wouldn't be able to get anything done here.

Finally, the door is back on its rusty hinges and swinging pathetically while letting out a whine. Satisfied with myself, and I definitely am since i managed to fix a door hinge all by myself with no help, I get pack on my feet and pick up the tools to return them to my neighbor. A Mr and Mrs Harrison, an elderly couple whom I rent the room from.

Mr. Harrison worked at one of the factories, one that made car parts. He had lent me the tool box from the there and told me to return it there once I was finished. And that was exactly I planned to do.

I got dressed to leave. I missed the old clothes I had back on London, the silks and the furr and the soft cashmere. Not to mention the high quality lace works. But within days of my mother's departure I had to sell them all off to save money. Money for food and money for rent. Instead, I bought whatever the stores here were selling. Simple, modest working class.

"You are a working class woman now. It's not right to think yourself separate." I tell myself. Sometimes it's hard to remember. When you grow up in silk and fine cashmere and hand made leather, it's hard to suddenly see yourself in the shoes of the leather makers.

A simple black dress, black shawl and shoes. Mourning clothes. It may have been two years or so, but is till mourned my father and brothers. I had to, for them, for their sacrifice. I grab the heavy tool box and begin to haul it along to the factory. My hands hurt, my knuckles gone white. My once polished nailes, now chipped and dirty with oil dig intoy already red palms.

One step at a time, I tell myself. One step at a time. Keep your eyes forward to your goal. Ignore the mud that splashes on your shoes, ignore the dirt that clings to the hem of your dress. Ignore the men watching you. Ignore the lewed, filth that leaves their mouth. Ignore them. I can ignore them just as I can igore the pain I my palms and the aching I my arms.

It hadn't been long since I came to Birmingham when I learned that the men of the lower class feel no need to be gentlemanly. No societal pressure for them to be polite. If they wished to be good men, then they were because they wanted to. And if they simply wished to be crass, not even a holy Mother would stop them.

They were not bad men. This much I could admit. But it was Birmingham itself. A pretty young girl with no one in Birmingham? She must be a whore then. It's fine. I thought, I could power through it.

At the door to the factory, I expect to see some sort of guard or a doorman. Someone to keep track of who goes in and who comes out. I see no suck person so I enter the factory, looking around to find either Mr. Harrison or someone who could point me to Mr Harrison. But strangely enough I see no one. No one seems to be working at their stations. I wonder if today is a day off? I doubt Birmingham factories have day offs but who knows. That us until I hear the voice of a man giving a speech.

"...or do they sit at home? Comfortable, With a full belly. While you scrape enough to find shoes for your children's feet. And what is the reward they offer you for the sacrifices you made? They fucking cut your wages! That is your reward. Raise your hands those of you who wants l to strike." A tall man standing on a staircase yells. He's surrounded by factory workers as they cheer and shout their agreement.

"Bloody communists." I huff under my breath. Their ideals are nice, fair wages and equality of the classes. But ideals are different from reality. One shoulder abandon reality for ideals.

I think of myself. Ideally, I should be in London, in my old home. With my latest fashion dresses and my delicate feathers. Ideally, I should be able to sit at a table with my mother and my father and my brothers. All of them alive and well. But reality is different. Reality is that I am here, without family. Standing in the mudd and soot Birmingham. Reality is that I can't find a decent job, because either it's not women's business or I'm not good at the damn thing. Reality is that I'm not originally a working woman, I don't know washing or sewing. Reality is that I am one of the full bellies these men are condemning. At least I used to be. And reality is, I need to start filling my belly and earning money. Not my head with stupid Russian ideals and strikes. "They'll stop day dreaming if they know what's good for them."

"And what's a pretty little missy such as yourself doing here?" A voice calls out from behind me.

He looks at me for a bit. Chewing something in his mouth. He takes off his hat and scratches the back of his head while letting out a low rumble of a laugh.

I turn to see a middle aged man behind me. Another factory worker no doubt.

I turn ony heels and show him the tool box. "I came here to return this to Mr. Harrison who lent it to me."

"Funny." He says amused, as if I had told him a joke. "It's fine, you don't have to come up with a story to be here."

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"How much?" He bluntly asks.

"I don't understand. How much what?" I did understand. And I hated that it happened so often that I did instantly understood. But it helped to play dumb. It helped me buy some time.

"I get it, I get it. Works been hard. It's been hard for everyone. You can't just waite for the clients to come to you, you have to come here to them. Good business plan sweetheart. Now I'm here. How much? " he snickers as he steps closer to me.

"Leave her alone Mac. Eh. Leave her the fuck alone. Scurry off to yer job if ye want to keep it, eh." Comes another man, much older than the twat before me, with a leather apron and a limp.

I recognize him immediately. It's Mr. Harrison. I smile at the elder man and bow my head for him. "Hello Mr. Harrison. I came to return the tool box."

"Ai. I've got eyes lassy. I can tell." He gives a crooked smile and walked closer with his limp. "Give me that." He takes the tool box from my hands and shoves it to the other man. Mac he had been called.

"Take this." He grunted. "And I'm telling you now Mac, she's no whore. She's renting Mary's room. Alright. You leave the girl alone."

"Got it, got it." Mac says, still laughing with amusement. He shakes his head walks away. Despite the conversation that happened, I can't help but just to focus on the fact that, that man can so easily pick up the tool box I hauled pathetically behind me.

"Come on lassy. I'll walk you back home. This no place for a young woman like yourself to be walking around. Factory's are dangerous. Full of sparks. I say this 'cus you remind me of me daughter."

"Thank you Mr. Harrison but I don't want to disturb you while you're working." I try to keep my voice neutral. It won't do any good if I break down crying over a small conversation I wasn't even a part of.

But damn it. I wasn't part of that damn conversation. It was about me. And I had no say in it. This Mac person thought I was a whore and it took another man to tell him off. Dammit. I'll never get used to this. Never.

It's like being a woman has turned from beingy little blessing to my curse over night. I move from London to fucking Small Heath and suddenly my status from a young miss changes to whore. And I don't even get a say in it. Fuck.

"Nonsense.i can't let you walk home alone. The sun's setting as well. Come. Come." He ushers me to the door and we both walk out.

We walked home in relative silence. there was soot and ash in the air and my black hat had turned pale gray. I look around as we walked, bored of the silence but also resigned to my fate.

The sun is setting and the streets are dark, the men are hitting the pubs and there are already a few drunk out of their minds. And yet, still I see boys playing out and about. Children as young as five, all boys, running and shouting.

"There are kids playing outside still." I note.

"Yes.well. young boys need to be out and play. What are we going to do? Keep them inside? They'll break everything." Mr. Harrison laughed.

"I suppose." I couldn't help the resentment and annoyance I felt. Here is was, a grown ass woman of twenty-five, being walked home by my neighbor because it's too late and dark and dangerous for a woman be walking home alone but kids as young as five are fine to running around on the account of being a boy. Once again I felt like being a woman was stuck to me more like a curse than anything nowadays. Like a stain I couldn't clean or a stench I couldn't get rid off.

I wonder, if it would have been easier if I was a man? Mom would have still remarried and left. Her new husband now would have wanted me even less. My father and brothers would have still gone to France. But at least, maybe then, maybe I could have gone with them. Been with them.

At least I know one thing for certain. If I were a man, I could have carried that tool box easily, would have known how to fix things. Would have been able to find work easier. And by God know one would have thought I was a whore. I wouldn't need to be escorted home. Hell, I would have been allowed in a pub then.

I shake my head to get a clear head. To shake off the resentment and the annoyance. That's wheny eyes fall on a corner where a commotion is. It doesn't seem like men getting drunk, nor does it seem like a fight.

Trying to distract myself from all the dark thoughts circling my head, I ask. "What's going on over there?"

Mr. Harrison, who was lighting his probably tenth cigarette by know took q glance over at the commotion. "Nothing of concern lassy."

I glance at him and wait for him to continue. He clearly didn't want to but silently asked for more information. That was one of the good things of being a woman that still worked for me. The moment a man sees you as their daughter or sister figure, you can ask them anything and they can't resist it.

"That's Charlie Strong's yard. It's also where the Shelby's keep their race horses. News been around the last stable boy they had around to help, hurt one of the horses. Curly, he's the big man over there, " he gestired to a man who was frantically arguing with another older man, Charlie Strong I assumed. He was waving his hands around and shaking his head.

"Yes, that's Curly. He's in charge of the stable and is very particular about the horses. They fired the boy a month ago. But since then they haven't found anyone to take his place." Mr. Harrison said.

"Why not? Are there not many who know about horses? I doubt that." I pry in a little more. The gears in my head turning as a little plan hatches slowly.

"Like I said,he's particular about the horses. Loves them to death. No one seems to be good enough to work there. But he's trusted by the Shelby's so what he says goes."

"I see."

Mr. Harrison turns to me, eyes squinted and flicking his tongue over his dry lips. It's almost as if he can see the gears in my head turning or he can see the evil grin I'm trying to hide.

"Now you listen to me lassy, you stay away from Charlie Strong's yard. Ye hear me? It's where them Peaky devils hang and nothing good cones out of them noticing ye." He warned me, flicking his finger at me. Mr. Harrison reminds me of my father with the way he warns and wards off people from bad life choices. My father was a wise man.

My father was a wise man and if he knew what I planned to do, he would have a heart attack. I can almost hear him say it. "Nothing good comes out of you going to a stable." Or "nothing good will come out of you being so rowdy. Yer a girl. Be like one."

For a split second I close my eyes and send a prayer to my father and brothers. It was an incomplete plan, but what I had for now was good enough. The rest I will think of when I get to it.

"Oh no, Mr Harrison. Not me. You see, I received a letter from a cousin of mine. I'm going to the country to stay there." I lie through my teeth, still observing the man named Curly.

"You leaving lassy?" Mr Harrison seemed surprised. He spat his cigarette on the ground and stopped it. It was his way of giving me all of his unwavering attention.

"Yes, I'm going to the country to live there with my relatives. A cousin of mine,however will be coming to work in Birmingham. He...hes good with horses. He would love to work with them here as well." Well. Not a lie. Not entirely. I am absolutely not going to be living with relatives since both my parents had been disowned. My father's side were members of the IRA and didn't like that he went to fight for the crown and my mother, well, she was an upperiddle class lady who left a wealthy land owner at the altar to elope with an Irish horse trainer. Their love story used to be like a fairytale to me. But it is true, father may have tried his best to keepy lady hands clean and soft but... I grew up watching him train horses. It was bound for me to find the tame creatures better company.

"I see." Was all Mr. Harrison said. However his face seemed to say that he was pleased to hear that I was leaving. I suppose any man would prefer their daughters to not live in such a place. Perhaps Mr. Harrison thought the fair air of country would do me well. Let him think that.

"May I go and ask about the job?" I asked. I really didn't need to ask but somehow, the feel these men had about them didn't allow me to just casually walk up to them.

"Hen. fine. But I'll be coming with ye. I'll talk, it's men's place this yard." He grunts in his usual sour and fatherly way and limps away towards the meb and I follow suit, trying to walk in a way that us both confident and yet respectful.

Mr Harrison's steps were bigger he reached them men sooner. He took his hat off and with an air of respect and submission began talking to them. He had his head bowed and his shoulders hunched. It made me wonder the weight they carried. He was an elderly man and I know he had been to France. His sons hadn't returned, much like my brothers and his daughter had married away, moved to Glassgaw with her husband. I almost felt sorry for using him like this. In his mind he was helping me, doing a young gurl a favor. But I had made my resolve. Reality is different than fantasy, different than ideals. I need to be more cutthroat, more ruthless, more.... morally gray to be able to survive here. this small town wasn’t a place for a lady than i shouldn’t have to other being like one. I should only think of my own good first. that’s reality. the sooner I get over it, the sooer I can get to actually living.

I refuse my fate to be either marriage or prostitution. If I've got no man, than by the devil I swear I'll be my own man.

"Gentlemen." I greet them all.

"Harrison here tells me, you've got a cousin coming here for a job." Mr. Strong says as he looks me up and down. It's not a bad stare not something to make me uncomfortable but, it's just a quizzical look. Like he wants to see if I'm worth beting on.

"Yes Mr. String. I'll... I'll be leaving around tomorrow morning and if timing is right, hell be here the day after." It's risky, givingy self so little time to prep. But it's also good, I won't be able to back out of it. And they wouldn't be able to say that it's too late.

"And you expect me to give him a job when he's not here yet?" He asks, leaning on a shovel. His old pale eyes staring me down with a wisdom that only comes with age and experience.

"No sir, I simply owned him a favor and thought since he's coming here to Birmingham to work, I thought I could see if there us any work with horses around. His father is a horse trainer and he's good at it too. All I ask is to give him a chance." I say. Trying my damnedest to smile innocently and not let them know I had a terrible plan in mind.

"No. no. We can't trust them Charlie. They'll hurt the horse Charlie. No. No." Mr. Curly says frantically, as he shakes his head and arms.

"Oh, shut up Curly. You've rejected everyone who knew anything about horses in this damn town. Only other person who can, is now Tommy and you can't ask him to be a stable boy." Charlie Strong, despite being a frail old man had an authoritive voice, like a shaggy Irish Wolfhound. He snapped at Curly and the other man despite being taller and much larger, obediently quieted down. A draft horse came to mind. Big, Strong and sturdy but all gentleness and skittish attitude. I alredy like Curly and I’m sure I can get him to like my cousin as well.

"Fine then. Tell him come but I won't guarantee he will get a job." He huffed to me. "Now go, shoo. This no place for a woman. "

"Thank you. That's all I asked." I say politely as I could and gave a slight bow if my head. Then turned and walked away home with Mr. Harrison.

Tonight is going to be a hell of a night.

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