Han

Peaky Blinders 🕊️Harry Potter 🕊️ Once Upon a Time🕊️ 27 🕊️ MDNI 🕊️ Requests are open!!

[thatcrazyblonde57]

Hey! I'm Han. I have been on Tumblr since the mid 2010's and writing for even longer. I finally decided to post my writings on here for fun, so please enjoy! I am always open to kind and constructive criticism and advice. Feel free to send me a message or ask me something in my asks box. :)

Right now, I only write for Peaky Blinders. If I ever write for any other fandom again, I will add them below.

Peaky Blinders

Clara Shelby

[kayflapper]

A blush pink colored dress featuring intricate silver beading and a drop-waist silhouette. c. 1920s.

[ruvviks]

OC ASK GAME

Where was your OC born, and where did they grow up?

How does your OC remember their childhood? Is this an accurate reflection of what their childhood was actually like?

If your OC could revisit their childhood, what would they want to change about it, if anything at all?

Describe three of the most important photographs your OC owns.

What is your OC's gender identity and sexual orientation? Is this also what they identify as in canon, or are they not (fully) aware?

How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they like who they are? What would they want to change about themself?

What is your OC's occupation?

What does your OC's family look like?

Describe a mundane day in your OC's life.

Does your OC have any physical scars? What is the story behind them?

What does your OC carry around in their pockets? What about their bag?

What is the worst thing that has happened to your OC? How has it affected their behavior, their health, and their life in general?

What is something your OC does (to others) that they would not like if others did to them? Are they aware that they do this?

Does your OC hold grudges? How good are they at letting things go? Do they believe in second chances?

What is your OC's fatal flaw?

Is there anyone your OC has lost contact with? What happened?

What are some of your OC's coping mechanisms during stressful or overwhelming periods in their life?

What are your OC's bad habits?

How does your OC handle preparing for and initiating a difficult conversation? How does the conversation itself go?

How quick is your OC to shift blame? Do they own up to their mistakes, or are they prone to start pointing fingers at others?

How does your OC handle criticism?

How good is your OC at apologizing, if they do this at all?

What is your OC like when they're angry?

What is your OC like when they're upset?

What is your OC's deepest desire? Would they ever ask for this?

How quickly does your OC reach their breaking point? What are they like when this point has been reached?

What are some assumptions others make about your OC? Are any of them true?

What does your OC think others are saying about them behind their back? Is any of this true?

What are three traits your OC has that can both have positive as well as negative qualities?

How paranoid is your OC? How does this affect their daily life?

Are there any places or people your OC is avoiding?

How does your OC handle rejection?

How does your OC handle jealousy?

What would be some of the signs your OC is starting to push people away?

If your OC had to kill someone, how would they do it? If killing is a near-daily occurrence to them, what is their preferred method?

Does your OC believe they deserve it when bad things happen to them?

What is the most common feeling or emotion in your OC's life?

What is the most recurring theme in your OC's nightmares?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like? What is the worst pain they have ever felt?

What is your OC afraid of?

Has your OC ever hurt someone, either physically or verbally?

How easily influenced by others is your OC?

What are common things your OC worries about?

Do others consider your OC to be scary or intimidating?

Does your OC keep their promises? Have they ever broken one before?

Does your OC carry any guilt with them?

If your OC had to pick a new identity and skip town, what would they come up with? Where would they go?

What would your OC do if they knew that this was their last day alive?

Does your OC fear death?

How does your OC die, eventually?

[thatcrazyblonde57]

🌹🌹🌹

Hi! Thank you! 😊

“Clara looks around the large lavish ballroom in awe, finding herself instantly lost in a daydream of princes and princesses waltzing around the floor, so far gone that her body starts to sway slightly in rhythm with the waltz in her head.”

[discocritic]

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing

[thatcrazyblonde57]

I started writing another one shot. I had an idea since I want to keep Grace alive in my fics. It’s pretty dark since it involves someone else taking the bullet instead of Grace. I think you could probably guess who. I hope it’s not too dark for you guys 😬😅

[catsofyore]

Photo from my collection, writing on the back says “General Nuisance. Summer 1954”.

[mudwerks]

General Nuisance reporting for duty

[thatcrazyblonde57]

This would be something Tommy would name his cat 😂

[randomaskgames]

mixed bag of funny, angsty, angry, and just plain weird

"I picked you a flower."

"Am I dead? Please say yes."

"One more word and I'll leave."

"I don't think we can salvage this."

"If you were really sorry, you'd change."

"Don't tell me what I'm allowed to feel…"

"Don't act like you know what's going on."

"No. Get out of here. I don't want to see you."

"You snore so loud, I can't hear myself think."

"Who ever gave you the right to act this way?"

"They weren't supposed to tell you where I am."

"It's called empathy. Maybe you should learn it."

"I know I'm bad at this; you don't have to rub it in."

"Yes, I hear you. All the dramatics. It's hard not to."

"Why are you shrinking yourself for everyone else?"

"Yeah, let's see how YOU like cold feet on your back!"

"No. No, tell me what you actually think. I want to know."

"Just tell me how to help. I want to, I just don't know how."

"I'm gonna need you to take all that sass and go over there."

"You don't have to prove anything to me, you know that, right?"

"How long have you been carrying all those secrets on your own?"

"Let me just ask the spirits of the dead, first… The spirits said 'no'."

"Nothing you do will ever be good enough for them, so stop trying."

"Has anyone ever told you that your vibe is strange and off-putting?"

"I wanted to slam the door really dramatically, but the hinge caught."

"Everyone should be a lot more appreciative of me not going apeshit."

"Every time I see you, I get cute aggression, I can't help it. I must squish."

"This would be a lot more soothing without the underlying, constant terror."

"It's hard to believe your parents loved you if they gave you a name like that."

"If I looked into your brain, I think I'd just hear the Benny Hill theme on repeat."

"I knew this wasn't gonna work. Doesn't make it any less disappointing, though."

"Does this task require a bra/pants? Because, if it does, I will not be participating."

"I heard your stomach rumble from over here. No argument, I'm getting you food."

"Gonna need you to take a deep breath, find whatever inner peace you have, and be quiet."

"You'd have nothing to worry about in a zombie apocalypse… I mean, they eat brains, right?"

"I knew you weren't good for much, yet you continue to find new ways to disappoint me."

"Yeah, you jumpscared me! You move so quietly, it's like perpetually living in an indie horror game!"

"I can't lower my bar of expectations any more. The devil is already using it for limbo parties in hell."

"You're an amazing scientific study waiting to happen on how someone can survive so long without any common sense at all."

"I really don't care what you think or say about me. But, I draw the line at you disrespecting them... you're on really thin ice here."

[thatcrazyblonde57]

While I finish up my next fic, send me one for Clara and I’ll write a small one shot

[theshelbyclan]

The Lady and the Vagabond: Smut (part 3)

Summary: Kaulo has come to watch you walk as a model, but after the show, a gentleman makes you an offer and you are requested to put on another show

(gif by @rebeccalouisaferguson)

A/N: My best friend is a historian, and she specializes in the Interbellum. Currently, she’s writing on the lesbian scene during that time. Most is known from Paris, but a lot less is known about it in London. But that doesn’t mean the gay scene was any less big there! In fact, in Paris is was more an upper-class affair, while in London you had something for all kinds of people, from all classes. Specific clubs catered to specific people and some of them are quite well-known still. Anyways, she told me all about it over a lot of wine, and that in part inspired this story. During that time, photographs, erotic literature, films even, all kinds of pornography was called ‘smut’ by the people. We think of it as a genre in fanfic, but the term is much older. So that being said, I’ll say it again: this is an 18+ story. Please take some personal responsibility for what you consume. Also, I’m not the historian, my friend is, so I apologize for any mistakes. Words: 2120

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 ***** It was on a Wednesday afternoon that you would do a fashion show for one of the biggest fashion houses in London. Out of hundreds of girls, you and a few lucky others had been chosen. And while it paid well and you were honoured of course, you couldn’t stop stressing about it. And to make matters worse: you had invited Kaulo too. Like you didn’t have enough to worry about yet.

The models were expected to be there two hours in advance, just for some last-minute fittings, rehearsals and to get their hair and make-up done. You underwent it all quietly, used to the machinations of the trade. But just after they’d done your hair and just before they would start on your makeup, you snuck out the back door. “Hi there,” Kaulo said smoothly. She’d been waiting for you out there. “Hi,” you blushed, and quickly said, “They probably won’t let you in with the rest of the crowd. Due to…”

She gestured at herself with a cigarette still in hand, and finished the sentence, “This.” “Yeah… I’m sorry about that. Some people here are real snobs.” “Don’t worry, little bird, I’m not here for them.” Kaulo looked down the alley and gave you a quick wink, “I’ll follow you in now. If anyone asks, I’m one of the designers.” You opened your mouth to protest, but as you looked Kaulo up and down, you thought: that might actually work. She had her signature black trousers on, black boots, a dark frilly shirt and lots of gold jewelry, and she finished the look off with her dirty long coat, that still vaguely smelled of horses. You knew this was just her practical everyday outfit, one that allowed her to roam the land and one that fit a Romani gypsy, but to the Londoners, it might be considered a fashion statement. They might actually fall for it.

“Quick,” you giggled and you closed the door behind you again. Just before the show started, you instructed your friend to hide a little out of sight backstage, where she honestly had the best view. As you and the girls lined up, one of your friends nudged you and asked, “You alright? You look a little pale.” She was a veteran at this and you grinned, indeed nervous, and shrugged. You shot a look at Kaulo behind the curtain and she returned your gaze at once. “Is that a new scout?” one of the other girls asked. You laughed to yourself, but as a third girl peeked behind the curtain and you saw the crowd that had gathered, you wanted to throw up again. “Come here,” your friend took your arm and tried to calm you with her eyes. “Don’t worry about it! Just do as you’ve been taught and walk calmly and slowly, like you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world.” You sighed, “I’ve never walked in front of this many people. But your friend gave you a quick hug and then she produced a small vial, saying, “Alright, this’ll help you out. Quick, we only have a couple of minutes.” She spread the white powder out onto a little table and in one swift motion, snorted it all. “Your turn,” she urged, and for whatever reason unknown to you, you did it too. Back in line, counting the seconds, you felt the chemicals of whatever it was you had just ingested, kick in. The anxiety fell from you and slowly you felt like you might actually be able to do this. So without looking at the crowd and without doubting yourself again, you walked and reveled in the cheers when the audience erupted in applause. ***** When the show was done, you practically ran into Kaulo’s arms, “Did you see me? I can’t believe I did that!” “I saw you,” she said softly, with a kind of smile you couldn’t quite place. But before you could think about it for too long, your friend jumped on you and started singing your praises in a chemically enhanced volume. And you shared her excitement, because you had never, ever felt this way. It was like you could fly! So when she handed you a bottle, you threw back the contents, again and again, until suddenly, a hand on the bottle stopped it. You looked up and it was Kaulo, carefully shaking her head at you. “Your scout is boring,” your friend slurred and she pulled you with her by the arm. When she offered you a second line, you immediately joined her. For a girl normally as shy as you, this seemed the perfect cure. But you still wanted to get back to Kaulo. When you found her, you feared for a second that she was angry. She somehow seemed more distant and cold. But when you went to hug her, she whispered in your ear, “You were like a film star, little bird.” And you felt like you were on cloud nine. So, when a random man from the audience approached you and asked whether or not you wanted to join him to get your picture taken, you hardly hesitated. “I’ll come if Kaulo comes too,” you told him and when she agreed, you both left with the French unnamed photographer.

*****

He took the two of you to his flat, all the way up on the 6th floor. From the outside, it seemed like any other flat, but inside you found the set-up of a studio. You’d never been to one before, but the girls often told stories of what would go down in these kinds of places. Apparently, in Paris it was considered normal now. Maybe in London too, but you knew nothing of it. It simply wasn’t a part of your world. The studio was an open space, with open beams of the upper floor and it had so many windows, that everything was covered by a harsh light. The kind of light that stripped down everything to its raw edges. Kaulo looked around, her face betraying nothing, and then she chose a wingchair in the corner. There across the room, she lounged, and with her legs wide and fingers tapping lazily against her knee, she observed you and the photographer. You had never felt more protected by anyone.

On the other side, you were standing in front of a white sheet, just as the photographer had told you to. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you were sort of fiddling with the buttons of your blouse, not yet daring to undo them. But he surely would want you to change your clothes soon. The photographer meanwhile set up his things and sighed when he spotted your nervousness, “Relax, doll. We’re trying to make art here, not photograph a bloody crime scene.” You exhaled, shakily, “I don’t really do this very often…” “Then let’s make it memorable,” you spun around, because it wasn’t the photographer that had spoken. Kaulo stood up slowly, her voice almost a velvet purr, as she said, “Just focus on me, not on him. It’s me you wanted here, right?” You smiled but felt like you could puke from the nerves. The photographer seemed delighted however: maybe he was going to get his shots after all! To the photographer, Kaulo said as she approached, “You’re doing smut, right? All you Frenchies do.” “Yeah, or at least I’m trying to,” he replied, seemingly unbothered by the question. “Do you think she’s up for it?”

Kaulo placed herself in front of you and whispered, “If you want to stop, you tell me, yes?” “Yes.” She took your hands and encouraged by her confidence, you took the fabric of your blouse and dragged it upwards, exposing the lines of your stomach. Kaulo’s hands immediately traced your curves, as the camera clicked for the first time. You felt your pulse quicken and while Kaulo helped you take off your blouse with a newfound eagerness, your own confidence grew. Soon, your skirt followed and your waist flowed into hips that could made mouths water. Kaulo stared at you like she was looking at some masterpiece painting: in awe, but also hungry and a little feral.

The photographer whistled, but you barely heard him. You were drowning in grey eyes, that were currently drinking all of you in. Kaulo hooked one finger behind the band of your bra and pulled it back a little, ever so slightly exposing you. With a click, a second photograph was taken and one very happy Frenchman commented, “Fuck yeah, that’s the shot.” “Wait,” you said with a shock, as you realized what you were actually doing, “Isn’t this illegal?” “Yes, it is, little bird,” Kaulo smiled, as it only seemed to turn her on. You were less convinced, but the photographer added matter-of-factly, “You mean the 1885 Gross Indecency Act? You British are so backwards… but don’t worry, darling, that’s only for the men. You women are safe.” “Are we?” you looked at Kaulo, who was now slowly undoing the little hooks of your bra. She nodded slowyl, “Did you know that in 1921, they wanted to add women to the bill too? Making us ‘indecent’ as well?” “Us?” You frowned, but didn’t have long to think about it, as you felt the other woman’s hot breath on your nipple. And the world stood still and wouldn’t stop spinning, all at the same time. “Don’t worry, darling!” the photographer shouted again, “Women will never be prosecuted, because we all love you too much!” And with that he clicked again. “Besides,” Kaulo said as she kissed your breast again, “They would have to admit that lesbians actually exist.” And as she laughed, you joined in and you finally felt some of the tension fall away. “You’re both just perverts,” you laughed and Kaulo growled an, “Guilty.” As she drew you in and trailed a hand down your body. “It’s not fair if it’s just me,” you pouted in mock pretend. For a second Kaulo stopped still, locked eyes with you and then said casually, “Fair enough.” And then she started taking off her boots, trousers, shirt and underwear. Before you could breathlessly inhale again, she was standing naked in front of you.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you giggled, not entirely sure of where to look. But also not entirely sure of where not to look.

“I’m enjoying you,” she growled and with a firm hand, that didn’t feel threatening for a moment, she helped you out of the rest of your clothing. You felt the heat radiating off her body as she just seemed to worship yours and she added, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Your breath hitched as Kaulo’s hand slid around the small of your back, pulling herself against your body once again. The photographer’s camera clicked again, but neither of you were really paying any attention to him. Suddenly, her mouth was on your neck and her hands slid down to remove the last of your modesty. Suddenly, she backed you up against the wall, lifted your leg and positioned herself in between your thighs, pressing against you. Your nails dug into her shoulders; you couldn’t help yourself. The Frenchman called out, “Hey! I’m still here, you know!” But his enjoyment was evident too.

“Why is he still here?” Kaulo groaned into your hair, with both a hint on annoyance and a hint of humour, “Does he have to be here?” “We promised him a show, remember!” and with that you suddenly pushed her away and walked over to the other side of the room. There, on the bed, lay a top hat and you immediately decided upon it. From that moment on, all inhibitions fell away. The two of you just had fun in front of the camera, you utterly in the moment and coyly hiding your nudity behind a curtain or a fan, and Kaulo completely naked, apart from a top hat. You suddenly felt free; free to move, free to touch, free to feel and free to play.

The photographer had never seen better.

***** Afterwards, the two of you sat together in that wingchair in the corner, with clothes still scattered all around you. When you offered her the bottle of some French liquor, she politely declined, but all was well like this. You, sitting on her lap, and she, still admiring all of you with a quiet hungry gaze. She asked carefully, “What did you do all of that for?” You shrugged and honestly answered, “I was trying to impress you?” Kaulo laughed and fixed her top hat so that it slightly covered one eye in an almost impish manner. “Did it work?” you asked, a little insecurity creeping back in. She did that world-famous lip bite and said, “Oh yeah.” And you leaned in and finally kissed her, again and again, until everything was forgotten except for the taste of her lips.

*****

Masterlist

Taglist: @fandom-puff @amysteryspot @findinghisredrighthand @zablife @agentidiot @moth-after-midnight @look-at-the-soul @hb-writes @writeroutoftime @mootiemoose @shelbydelrey @cillmequick @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyweirdo @peakyswritings @azurethevampire @the-makingsofgreatness @littlepeakydevil @thomashelbyswife @staygold-bebold @maggiescarborough @weaponizedvirtue @murderousginger @shelbywhiterose @brummiereader @sour-strawberry-kisses @wonderlanddreamer @navs-bhat @lyarr24 @emilycookie86 @simonsbluee @peakyltd

[thatcrazyblonde57]

Thuraaaa! For someone who was nervous to write smut, this is amazing! Insanely well written! 😙👌

Also, will you please add me to the tag list? 😄

[theshelbyclan]

The Lady and the Vagabond: Falling (part 2)

Summary: Kaulo has taken you to a place far away from the city, for some much-needed peace

A/N: This is just fluff, because I wanted to write a bit of uncomplicated fluff, before everything gets really complicated XD Also, this fic is very, very loosely and vaguely based on a film and one bit from this fic comes directly from it. If you know which film, I’ll be your bestie forever. Let me know what you think! Words: 1701

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 ***** The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the field where the wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze. As the two of you walked in the countryside, where Kaulo had taken you, it was almost as if you were floating in the wind. As a city girl, you were used to London, but you’d never been to a place as magical as this.

“You like it?” Kaulo was still dressed in almost all black, bit still she fit here. Like an angel, a dark angel, or so you thought.

“It’s different from London,” you smiled a little, “but I like it. It’s more peaceful.” Kaulo took your hand, “I promised you peace, Y/N, didn’t I?” She had. After you’d met on that one fateful afternoon, you’d debated all day whether or not to go back and look for her the next day. As it turned out, your feet simply led you to her this morning. It was like you didn’t have a choice. And when you’d found the woman again, it was like she’d never even doubted you would come to her. Like she’d been certain of it all along. And when you’d asked her where you were going, she’d studied your face and told you she would take you to a place of peace. She’d lifted you up onto her horse and rode with you for over an hour.

You thought of how you’d left the city. That city, where the air was never truly clean. Where the atmosphere was like a thick, metallic stench of industry and exploitation. Where everything even tasted of dust and iron; like blood. You lived in the heart of that machine, you were a cog in its wheel, tucked away in an apartment high above a bustling street, where the traffic always roared and the people were never quiet. The city of London had a pace that was relentless, but there was no peace.

“You looked like you could use some peace,” she interrupted your thoughts. “I did. My job isn’t very…” Peaceful? Tranquil? Healthy? You couldn’t find the right word.

When you were up on that horse with her, you felt the pressures of life leave you as you’d left the city. You’d looked up and saw the sky, which had turned from a smog-orange and grey, into a profoundly clear and blue one. The air changed too, and you’d suddenly noticed smells like damp earth, sweet flowers and a sharp pine odor. And for a moment you’d feared you’d gone deaf: everything was so quiet, except for the leaves, the trees and the animals. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard an animal! The two of you walked alongside the field and eventually came to a small dirt road. Looking down, you noticed your white high-heeled shoes, which were certainly no longer white. A week ago, you might’ve cried, but now you couldn’t care less. “Take them off,” Kaulo all but ordered. And you obeyed. “I’ll take you to my home,” she said. There was something about her: always so cool and calm and collected. Like nothing could ever shake her, like no circumstance could even change her, and like she wasn’t even really from this time. She was just a ghost passing through. What the hell was she doing with you? “I think you’re special,” she read your mind again. You frowned, thinking: stop doing that! “Alright,” she laughed, doing it again, “Tell me about your work then.” You coughed and mumbled, “I’m a model?” It sounded so silly now. Kaulo stopped walking and laughed. And you felt yourself going red, “Don’t laugh at me!” “I’m not laughing at you, little bird, but it just makes sense. Look at you: you fucking gorgeous head-fuck of a thing. Of course, you’re a model.” You stared at her. Because in all truth, you’d never truly understood as to how you’d managed to become a model. You most certainly didn’t think of yourself as beautiful. But you had always loved fashion, ever since you were a little girl. A few years ago, you couldn’t get a job. Because of course the 20s were all about that boyish look, those bold statement pieces and harsh lines. But that was changing now. The Romani woman cupped your face. For a moment you thought she’d might lean in closer but instead she asked, “Where did you just go? In your mind. You keep doing that.” “Oh, I was just thinking I’m not soft enough?” She licked her lips, almost unnoticeably, “You’re not?”

“The 1930’s look, I mean?” you said innocently, “You’re supposed to look soft now.” “I think you’re probably perfect.” You rolled your eyes in reply and said, “It’s really not a big deal, being a model. And I just walk for the fashion houses, it’s not like I’m famous.” “Yet,” a sharp adjustment.  

Suddenly, it was like you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You stopped walking, sighed deeply and burst out, “And being a model really isn’t that great. I mean, not always!” “No?” An amused look had taken over her face. “No, it’s not,” you tried to kick a rock away from the road, but instantly regretted it when it hurt your toe. But somehow, that only made you angrier, “It’s all: go see this person, go see that person. Go meet Mr. Smith at 10 and go walk for someone ‘Malowinksi’ at 12. And: “get lost, honey, you ain’t what we’re looking for”. So yeah, I go see, I go see, but nobody sees me. It’s just: “piece of meat, come here. Show me what you got” and they stick their fingers in you and say: “I just wanna taste your temperature”. Go see, go see, always go see somebody else. I’m not good at this, I’m not good at this at all, but even if you are good at it, what exactly are you good at?”

Silence fell over the old country dirt road and Kaulo had a look on her face that you could only describe as impressed. You, however, were embarrassed beyond belief that you’d said all of that out loud. You’d never done that before. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she’d minded. “So, are you good at it?”

You shook your head, back to your usual demeanor and avoiding all further outburst, “I get shy. I usually need some kind of chemical courage, but all the girls do that.” Kaulo frowned but decided not to pursue the matter. And then suddenly you couldn’t walk any further: the dirt road had ended, and you were both standing at edge of a river: the most beautiful river you had ever seen. Is this paradise, you thought. Or: if I jump now, will it take me onwards towards paradise? But she took your hand again held you steady, in place. “Y/N. Come with me.” She changed direction and guided you to her wagon, but she didn’t say much. Kaulo never did. That ghostly presence of a woman, of who you knew practically nothing. Romani fortuneteller princess, no, queen. Whoever she was, she was still holding your hand. That you did know: she was so at ease with touching people. With touching you. And every time it happened, it was like electricity sparked for you, but she did it casually, and seemingly unbothered. Like she did everything.   “I want to rest here,” you announced suddenly, when a certain bit of field looked particularly inviting to you as a city girl. “Here? Are you sure? Not over there?” Kaulo teased, but without betraying it with her expression. But you were right: it was the perfect spot. Laying down in the grass, you turned your head to face her. It was funny how you felt more at ease with a stranger, than you did with family and friends. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?” “Right here with you,” her voice was soft, the words almost like secrets spilling. But you couldn’t help but laugh at her, “That’s such a bad answer! Ugh…” you turned away, “I bet you say that to all the girls.” Within a flash, you felt the weight of Kaulo’s body on top of you. She grabbed your hands and pinned them to the ground, looming over you with a serious face. For a while she didn’t speak and you held your breath in fearful and excited anticipation. Then she said in a low voice, “Do you call me a liar?”

For a second, you moved your head upwards, as if you were a man and you were dying to kiss her. But you stopped yourself in time. Kaulo quirked one eyebrow upwards but remained motionless otherwise. Then she said, “There are no other girls right now. Stop asking me about these ‘other girls’: I’ve forgotten them all the second I met you. There’s only you.” She said it so matter-of-factly, but to you it wasn’t that simple at all. In fact, it made your head spin. What did she mean? Was she, a woman, indeed often with other women? Was that a thing? And, was that a thing for you? You quickly shrugged the thought away. Kaulo smiled, finally and demanded in a deep voice, “Ask me again.” “What?” You squeaked. Your voice was not yet quite cooperating. “Ask me the same question again.” “What! I don’t know…” “Ask me where I would want to be!” “Oh,” you rolled your eyes and repeated the question. Again, she said, “Right here with you.” But then she finally let go of you and added playfully, “But if not, maybe somewhere with endless horizons and all those ‘other women’ waiting for me.” You grinned broadly, “I knew it.” In the grass that rustled quietly, you laid there side by side, as the light was slowly fading. The day was coming to an end, and you would’ve given anything to stop time. But it was getting dark, and time for you to head back. But somehow, the city didn’t seem that alluring anymore. It felt like a distant, war-ridden, chaotic memory. The countryside had not just given you a change of scenery, but an entire change of perspective. Peace.

So you turned to the woman who had promised you peace, “I have to do a show, next week. Will you come?”

***** Masterlist

Taglist: @fandom-puff @amysteryspot @findinghisredrighthand @zablife @look-at-the-soul @hb-writes @writeroutoftime @mootiemoose @shelbydelrey @cillmequick @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyweirdo @peakyswritings @azurethevampire @the-makingsofgreatness @littlepeakydevil @thomashelbyswife @agentidiot @staygold-bebold @maggiescarborough @weaponizedvirtue @murderousginger @shelbywhiterose @brummyshelby @sour-strawberry-kisses @wonderlanddreamer @navs-bhat @lyarr24 @emilycookie86 @simonsbluee @peakyltd

[thatcrazyblonde57]

Loved this! Especially how you write her! I wish we got to know her better in the movie, but this makes me feel like we do!

[theshelbyclan]

The Lady and the Vagabond: Portobello Road (part 1)

Summary: You meet a very beautiful Romani woman at the market and when she reads your palm, you realize she could probably make you believe in anything

(gif by @rebeccalouisaferguson)

A/N: I wanted to try this. A while back @agentidiot and I talked a little about Kaulo and writing for her with another woman and ever since I haven’t been able to let it go XD So I’m writing it, more parts too if anyone would be interested in it, because I certainly have ideas. This one is a little bit different from my usual ones, usually I write more platonic fluff, but if I were to continue this, it would probably contain some 18+ material, so I just want to mention that now: this one is not for minors! Let me know what you think!

Words: 1277

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

*****

Portobello Road was a hub of market stalls, costermongers and vendors, people selling food, fresh fish and second-hand goods. It was loud, lively and busy on the quietest days. A mixture of all kinds of people could be found there: sailors, soldiers, immigrants and travelers. People willing to sell anything and people searching to buy everything cheap. And you felt more than a little out of place.

For a moment, you just stood there, taking the atmosphere in. The road was a kaleidoscope of sights, smells and sounds. Fresh lavender mingled with the earthy smell of mushrooms and the pungent smell of fish tried to rival them both. You usually liked the vibrant energy, but today it made you anxious. The people moved around like ants, but you became invisible in a crowd. Just for a moment.

But then you noticed a woman looking at you. Or better put, you felt her eyes on you: no casual observation, but something warmer and more knowing. She sat on the steps of one of the vardo’s, the wagons that the Romani lived in, the Romani who had decided to settle in places like Portobello Road. She just looked at you, and she kept looking at you. Even when you looked down, embarrassed, she kept on looking, searching, calculating, speculating. “Lost?” she asked you suddenly, when you were just daring to hope she’d left. “No.” You turned on your heel and walked in the other direction. But still, you couldn’t get her out of your head: that piercing stare, the long dark hair, her casual manner in which she’d been sitting on those vardo steps. You looked back, a part of you hoping she’d followed you. But she hadn’t. Shaking your head, you decided to get on with the business at hand. Because what had really brought you to Portobello Road wasn’t beautiful women, but a new coat. For work, you had to look presentable, smart and fancy even, and so you needed a coat to match. The other girls bought their clothes at one of the pristine fashion houses, but you couldn’t afford to, yet. So here you were, looking for a fur coat that would make you look expensive, but was in fact cheap. How very telling.

“Fresh fruit!” one of the vendors called out. He zoned in on you and tried to push some of his apples into your hands, “Apples? Almost as pretty as the lady?” You shook your head and offered him a polite smile, before trying to get away as quickly as you could. Maybe you were lost: all around you were fishmongers, as far as the eye could see. But there she was again. Out of nowhere, she’d popped up again and suddenly she walked alongside you. “Still not lost, little bird?” she inquired casually. You couldn’t place her accent.

You’d never been one for talking a lot. People often saw you as shy, quiet even, unremarkable, which was funny considering your line of work. This time you wanted to talk, to say something clever or interesting, but no words came to you. So, you stopped walking and turned to face her instead. “If you’re looking for clothes, you need to be on the other side,” she said, as she also turned to you, her hands still buried deep into the pockets of her long coat. Her manner was so confident, and a mysterious air hung about her. You could almost taste it. “Maybe I’m not looking for clothes,” you tried. Because somehow you were embarrassed by the fur coat plan now. Embarrassed of what that coat was meant to be, what it represented and, most of all, embarrassed of the fact that this woman could see right through you.

It was like she could read your mind, “Don’t be ashamed of whatever it is you’re looking for. And maybe I can help you.” With that, she took your hand and started tracing some of the lines in your palm.

“No…” you pulled back your palm and suddenly, you had to laugh nervously. You had no idea why you laughed though, but as you did, so did the strange woman. Some of the tension in the air broke at once. “Come on!” she encouraged you with a smile, “Let me tell you your future!” God, she was beautiful. You quickly looked down again, “But I don’t believe in all that…” She didn’t break eye contact and her eyes narrowed as her smile faded, “Perhaps not. But you believe in something, little bird. I can see it in your eyes.” You blushed. And she continued, “And sometimes a little guidance can help us find what we’re looking for.” She carefully took your hand again, “Come, let me look.” With a finger she traced your palm. You had to keep yourself from not giggling. When she noticed, she looked up at your face with an almost mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Then she proceeded, “This is your heartline, see? It runs deep, all the way across, but there are no breaks. You’ve really never been in love then?” She looked up to check and you were certain you’d now gone completely crimson.

With a slight smirk, she followed another invisible marking on your hand, “This is your headline. It’s curved, look. That means you’re creative. But it’s also broken, which means you go through a lot of mental strain.” When you saw the concern in her eyes, all you wanted to do was leave. She said carefully, “And your lifeline, it’s interrupted…” You hadn’t signed up for this. “Wait,” the fortuneteller said softly, as she sensed you pulling away. “I’m not done. Trust me.” And you let her lull you once again into a perhaps false sense of safety, “Now we come to the most important one: your fate line. Here it is… very faint… no stable career, you could go anywhere? Free as a little bird,” she added, with an almost forced lightness in her voice. You shook your head, trying to banish the dark thoughts her fortune telling had evoked, and tried to mimic her lightness, “Are you done?”

“Well, that depends. What did you think of your future, hmm?” “I think it’s all bullshit,” you laughed, before you could stop yourself. She opened her mouth in mock offence and exclaimed, “In that case, I am done too! With your palm,” she let go of it. “But not with you. My name is Kaulo.”

She locked eyes with you and you tried not to drown in those grey eyes. Now shy again and uncertain of what to do, you started fiddling with your scarf. And as you looked down, you noticed the tattoos on her hands. And you suddenly felt the absolute and overwhelming impulse to touch those hands, to have those hands touch you, to find some kind of excuse like palm reading or whatever it was that would allow you to touch this woman’s hands. But nothing came.

“Alright,” Kaulo smiled, taking a step back and obviously retreating, “I’ll let you get on with finding that fur coat.” But you didn’t want her to go. “So, is this what you do?” you asked, almost brave, “You just flirt with random women on the streets?” “No. Only the pretty ones like you.”

You didn’t believe her, but yet you drank in the compliment like a woman parched.

Kaulo smiled softly, “Come and find me again tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question, but still you nodded in agreement. Then she finally walked away and left you floating there, in the middle of the street.

And you thought to yourself: shit. I am in trouble.

*****

Masterlist

Taglist: @fandom-puff @amysteryspot @findinghisredrighthand @zablife @look-at-the-soul @hb-writes @writeroutoftime @mootiemoose @shelbydelrey @cillmequick @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyweirdo @peakyswritings @azurethevampire @the-makingsofgreatness @littlepeakydevil @thomashelbyswife @staygold-bebold @maggiescarborough @weaponizedvirtue @murderousginger @shelbywhiterose @brummiereader @sour-strawberry-kisses @wonderlanddreamer @navs-bhat @lyarr24 @emilycookie86 @simonsbluee @peakyltd

[thatcrazyblonde57]

So well written! I’m about to binge read all of these 😂💓

[momento-more]

@elodieunderglass - This made me think of you.

[thatcrazyblonde57]

This is something Clara would write to try to convince Tommy that her horse should have cake 😂

[thatcrazyblonde57]

Father Figure

Description: Short fluff between Clara, Grace, and Tommy

A/N: This is just something quick I put together recently. I love exploring how Clara would definitely see Tommy (even Arthur and John) as father figures, and vice versa, so this touches on that subject.

Tommy looks up from the letter he’s reading as he hears small feet pounding on the staircase, as Clara walks into the room, now dressed in her nightgown, he starts to scold her, but a quick glance from his wife stops him. Clara spares him no glance as she walks up to Grace with a smile, handing her hairbrush over for their nightly routine of Grace brushing Clara’s beautiful golden locks. The job that had once been Ada’s.

Out of all the Shelby’s, Clara is the only one who inherited their mother’s blonde hair. The spitting image of the woman. Aunt Polly used to swear that when their mother passed, her soul went straight into Clara.

He watches the two interact, noticing how Clara has started to use bigger words. She’s always been smart, their Clara, but his heart aches as it doesn’t feel so long ago that the girl fit in the crook of his arm, barely the size of his forearm.

Before the war, he was certain that he was Clara’s favorite brother, but now, 2 years since the war ended, he’s certain that he’s her least favorite. Despite being nineteen years apart in age, him and Clara butt heads and argue as if only a few years apart. Just the other day, she had cursed at him directly for the first time.

Continuing to watch his wife with Clara, he cant help the small smile that grows on his lips as they graze the glass of whiskey in his hand. Grace dotes on Clara as if the girl was her own, and even though he doesn’t believe anymore, he can’t help but thank god for Grace being put into their lives.

He studies Clara’s face as well as he can with the girls head slightly tilted downward, playing with the ribbon on the hem of her nightgown while chatting away. Out of all the siblings, he supposes she resembles John the most, but those eyes… those eyes are just the same as his. All of the siblings have blue eyes, but everyone else inherited the slightly darker shade from their father whereas Tommy and Clara have the light ones from their mother. He tries not to let his mind wander too much, but maybe just for a little while he can pretend that Clara really is his and Grace’s daughter.

[222luvr]

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა pink divider dump ! ♡

౨ৎ : : credit not needed, reblog if using ♡

[thatcrazyblonde57]

Just finished the movie… not doing too great 😭

[cillianmurphys-world]

Cillian Murphy attends the "Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man" Global Premiere at Symphony Hall on March 02, 2026 in Birmingham, England.

[flightlesssbirbss]

the u.s. women’s hockey team should get to throw rocks at the u.s. men’s hockey team and also beat them with hammers and baseball bats i am so serious rn