Hi, I'm Lee! I'm an adult who enjoys reading and writing fanfiction in my spare time. Sometimes that includes dark themes or nsfw. Please read all warnings carefully.
Characters I write for can be found on my Masterlist . Fandoms include: Peaky Blinders, The Bikeriders, Top Gun Maverick, The Last of Us, The Bear, Mobland and The Pitt.
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A/N: Ada and Arthur's alphabets have been requested, but I wanted to finish John's first bc I had several letters written already. Enjoy!
Warning: 🔞
A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)
Simply put, John isn't the best at aftercare. He's usually too lost in foggy headed bliss after the last round of lovemaking to do anything more with you. In the beginning, he'd drape the duvet over you and pull you into his body tightly, his muscular arm trapping you beneath him as it grew heavy with sleep. If you were lucky, you got a little kiss to the temple and a groggy "I love you" mumbled into your ear before he drifted off. You finally had to explain that you needed more and soon he learned how to look after you. He still won't stay awake for a chat and cuddles, but he can manage a wet cloth and a glass of water which makes it easier for you to rest comfortably beside him. (Bc let's be honest, the man has worn you out too!)
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)
Gauging the amount of time John spends in front of the mirror and his confident swagger, you assume he knows he's a handsome lad. And while he is quite proud of his athletic physique, he harbors a secret insecurity about the shrapnel wounds he suffered in France. He'll turn his back to you as he drops trow to reveal his best asset, his toned ass. And you never complain about the view!
John is full of praise for your body, hesitating to identify one feature he loves more than another. However, his rough palms always seem to linger a moment longer at the swell of your hips. The slight hitch in his breath when he grabs a handful of your supple flesh speaks to his appreciation of your curves.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
There's absolutely no doubt in my mind John has a breeding kink so he'd finish inside you 9 times out of 10 to ensure you'll give him a child. He can't stop thinking about it as he positions himself to take in the mesmerizing sight of your swollen pussy and the sticky rivulets dribbling onto your twitching thighs. Scooping up his spend with his thick fingers and pushing it back inside you, he sweetly hushes your whimpers of overstimulation. However, when the mood strikes him for a taste of your combined essence, he'll devour you with unbridled hunger. Then he'll kiss you deeply to initiate round two, eager to keep you full.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
John has submissive tendencies he'd never admit to his brothers. He feels most at ease when he's able to relinquish his responsibilities after a long day and lay his head in your lap. When he's been working too hard, he relishes the softness of your embrace, nuzzling your breasts and rooting until he finds the hardened bud of your nipple to suckle at. (And if you're lactating, he'll fill his belly with warm milk before drifting off to sleep.)
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)
Martha was John's one and only conquest before the war. He didn't desire another then or after the news of her death reached him on the front lines. Unable to return home and face the flood of memories, he used his leave to visit the brothels of France. There he gained an education in women and how to satisfy them. When he returned to Small Heath with this new found knowledge, he became the most sought after man in town.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
John loves pressing you against a wall as he steals the breath from your lungs. One tap of his fingers against your thigh and you're jumping into his muscular arms. He flashes a devilish smirk as you comply, locking your legs around his torso when he begins thrusting up into you with abandon. And despite the fine sheen of sweat and adorable crease of his brow, you know he's far from tiring. Perhaps it's the show of strength that invigorates him or the view of your breasts bouncing in front of his eyes, but he's obsessed with this position.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
It isn't uncommon to hear John's deep chuckle reverberate off the walls when you're in bed together. He loves to laugh, even when it's at his expense. He's a playful lover who doesn't take himself too seriously. When he wants to make you giggle, he'll turn his flaccid penis into a puppet or chase you around the room cock in hand!
H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
John's head might be blonde, but he has a dark thatch of hair below his belt. As a former military man he keeps it well trimmed in the name of hygiene. And when you give him oral, you don't object to the soft brush of his curls against your nose.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
While John enjoys a more playful mood in the bedroom, he can also have serious moments. He becomes particularly pensive just before orgasm, holding eye contact with you as he strokes your face. He's also fond of staying fully seated inside you until he's soft, savoring those last moments of closeness.
J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)
John has a high sex drive and doesn't mind seeing to his needs if you're not around. But don't worry, thanks to his short refractory period, he'll be ready to go when you get home!
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
John's kinks are mostly tied to the notion of his virility. He has a breeding kink based on the idea of keeping you full of his seed. He's obsessed with the changes he caused in your body, from your swelling stomach to your ample breasts. And when you ask him to relieve the ache of an overabundant milk supply, his lactation kink is born.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
John is a risk taker by nature and loves any sort of adrenaline rush. This extends to your sexual escapades which turn into borderline exhibitionism. I imagine it began when John convinced you to hike up your dress in the dark alley behind the Garrison when he was too drunk and horny to make it home. Listening to you pant his name for anyone passing by to hear made him cum on the spot. As long as you're willing, he would continue chasing the same thrill. Fucking against Tommy's desk just before the betting shop opens, eating you out on a picnic blanket by the river, taking you in the back seat of his new car.
But John is also a terrible tease. I can picture him sitting you on his lap at the pub, chatting merrily with other patrons as his fingers wander along your thigh beneath the table. He smirks to himself as you stifle gasps, cool air meeting your core as he pulls your underwear aside to finger you until you're begging. On those nights he would take you home for complete solitude bc he wants to take his time with you.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Much like his good natured way of finding humor in everything, John can become aroused anywhere, anytime. Sometimes it comes at him quickly, the rush of adrenaline and glory fueling his desire after a horse race or bar fight. (If you've joined him on some wildly dangerous adventure, he'll be even more ravenous.) Other times his appetite grows slowly as he flirts. He delights in teasing you with increasing amounts of innuendo, until he can't bare the sight of you rubbing your thighs together in frustration.
He's a highly visual person who stops everything to watch you saunter past him. And anything that draws attention to your mouth drives him wild. He won't be able to concentrate in the betting shop if you so much as lick a stamp or absently chew the end of your pencil. If your tongue sneaks along the edge of your mouth in concentration, moistening your lips ever so slightly, he'll get hard beneath his desk thinking of you kneeling before him.
Despite the wicked appeal of that scenario, the one he craves most is the sight of you beckoning to him from the kitchen. He simply can't resist your unassuming beauty and loving care as you feed him a taste of dinner from a wooden spoon. More than once he's pulled you away to ravish you in the hall as the stew burns, undeterred by the smell of smoke or Arthur pounding on the front door. (Bc that's another thing about John's behavior, he's hard to discourage.)
N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
I think there's very little John wouldn't do tbh! He's tried everything once and would prob try something again if you asked him nicely. As long as he has an enthusiastic partner, he's able to match that energy with ease. However, I think he might find it difficult to enjoy a kink like somnophilia or overly intoxicated lovemaking. He needs feedback and praise from his partner in order to enjoy the act.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
John is a generous lover when it comes to oral sex and can spend hours between your thighs. He loves kissing down your belly and resting his head upon the pillows of your thighs as he sucks little bruises into your flesh. He's intoxicated by your moans and whimpers as he begins kissing your pussy as he would your mouth. He's made you wet with desire before his fingers even venture to open you up, mesmerized by the sight of you clenching around nothing. His fave game is to suck your swollen bud and pull away in time to watch it twitch with need. He'll push you beyond your limits to see if you'll take one more finger inside you, just to feel your walls tightening around him in satisfied fullness. When he has you rocking against his palm, he'll talk to you thru your orgasm in a low rumble full of gentle praise.
Only then will he allow you to take him into your mouth, a large hand at the back of your head to cradle you affectionately. He likes to recline with one arm behind his head to watch you work, telling you how beautiful you look with saliva running down your chin. He likes it messy, spit and precum coating his length as your hand eagerly corkscrews down his length with a flourish. Unlike you, he can't take much teasing, preferring a steady rhythm which leads to your lips pushing his spongy head to the back of your throat for the climax. His heart catching in his throat as he watches you swallow every drop of him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
John can be soft and romantic, deliberately slowing himself down when he wants to prolong the connection between you. However, he's often overcome with the need to ravage you, pounding into you fast and hard when he hears the needy whimpers escaping your lips.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
John can't help himself when he's in need of your warmth. He'll drag you into the alley or the cellar of the Garrison to feel the press of your velvet walls around his cock. And you can't ever seem to deny him when he flashes you that lust filled gaze, dark oversized pupils like big love crumbs.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Yes! John loves taking risks. He's esp fond of pulling you into his lap and fingering you under the table until your cheeks are pink and your chest is heaving. He'll play coy as he kisses away the perspiration at your temple, cooing "Is it warm in here, sweetheart?" And while he also loves public sex, he'll do everything in his power to protect your modesty, draping his coat over you or shielding you with his body. The last thing he wants is for another man to catch a glimpse of his girl.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Not only can John go multiple rounds, he has an unusually short refractory period which means he's throbbing with need before you've even recovered from round one. Be sure to stretch and hydrate before getting into bed with this guy!
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
John jokes about his dislike for vibrators and dildos, asking why you'd ever need such things when he's around. However, he's game to use them whenever you ask. He's esp fond of anal while you fuck your pussy. It fulfills your need to feel full while keeping another man out of the bedroom.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
John doesn't normally have the patience for teasing, but occasionally he's able to prolong the delicious torture of an impending orgasm. He'll keep you on the edge, panting and begging before he pulls away, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. "Greedy girl," he chides before hovering over you again, rubbing the tip of his cock against your throbbing clit.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
John isn't necessarily loud, but he is very vocal. He's big on praise and letting you know just how good you're making him feel. His deep grunts of pleasure as he ruts into you are utterly primal, proving his words were spoken in truth. As he nears his end, labored breaths turn to shallow puffs of air against the shell of your ear. You might have to strain to hear your fave sound as it builds in his throat, but you wouldn’t want to miss this. There’s nothing like the sound of John’s whimpers just before his release. The first time you heard it, you nearly mistook it for pain. The soft cry followed by a long exhale of pure ecstasy as he succumbs to wave after wave of pleasure. After a few moments, a throaty chuckle escapes his lips before the power of speech returns to him. He doesn't need words to convey the euphoria he feels until the aftershocks subside and he's reduced to soft whispers of gratitude. He showers you with them, along with featherlight kisses.
W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)
You can't help but be turned on by John's fearsome reputation as a gangster so you ask him if he'd be willing to indulge you in a bit of knife or gun play. To your surprise, he agrees with one condition, neither of you drink or use drugs beforehand to keep a clear head. He explains that he'd never want to make a careless mistake with you. Somehow it feels even more intoxicating to be beneath him as he runs a cool blade down your stomach. But that's nothing compared to the feeling of your cunt stretching around the barrel of his gun as he fucks you slow and deep.
X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)
You never quite believed the rumors about John's size until you saw for yourself. The first time you tugged down the waistband of his pants and watched his length slap against his stomach, you salivated at the sight of him. He has an impressive girth, a bulging vein on the underside that throbs with want. And bc most of his partners are too overwhelmed to notice, his dick does in fact curve a little to the left.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
John has the highest sex drive of anyone you've ever encountered. He could ravage you 3x a day and still be left wanting if you denied him a 4th round! Unfortunately for both of you, his schedule rarely allows for such indulgence so he reserves this level of passion for holidays and anniversaries when he has you to himself for a long period of time.
Z = Zzz
John has been known to roll off you and begin snoring almost immediately. The soporific effect of an orgasm after a long day practically dictates it. However, as mentioned under "Aftercare" he does learn to delay sleep long enough to tend to you first.
When you're both settled in bed, he has no objection to you cozying up to his warm body. In fact, he likes to keep you close, one arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders. He'll never complain about the pins and needles when he awakes to find you in the same position. As long as you're resting peacefully beside him, he's happy.
Doesn't matter what you write about John, you always seem to get him just right, and simultaneously fulfill every filthy thought I've ever had about him 🤭.
If you were lucky, you got a little kiss to the temple and a groggy "I love you" mumbled into your ear before he drifted off. Starting right off at the beginning, I find this one pretty adorable. He's so fucked out, he can barely manage anything. Mission accomplished, I say!
One tap of his fingers against your thigh and you're jumping into his muscular arms. It's the little things that make me weak. I can't tell you how much that little tap to a thigh has sent me feral. A confident, sure man is my kryptonite. But also, give me a wet cat of a man too 🙈.
chase you around the room cock in hand! This made me snort a laugh. I don't think there's an image more John than this 😂.
He becomes particularly pensive just before orgasm, holding eye contact with you as he strokes your face. Another one that had me completely melt. This is honestly probably my favourite one. For all his bravado and cheeky charm, he's actually quite tender in the most vulnerable moment 😩.
He won't be able to concentrate in the betting shop if you so much as lick a stamp or absently chew the end of your pencil. Are we all in agreement that he's the horniest of the Shelby brothers? He's a marathon man!
he has an unusually short refractory period which means he's throbbing with need before you've even recovered from round one. Be sure to stretch and hydrate before getting into bed with this guy! Stretch and hydrate! The public service notice 🤣! Lee you killed me with this 😂.
He'll never complain about the pins and needles when he awakes to find you in the same position. As long as you're resting peacefully beside him, he's happy. God...he's such a sweetheart. I wish you wouldn't make him so perfect, makes men out in the wild look increasingly disappointing 😭😅.
@brummiereader Giggling and kicking my feet over these comments! I'm pleased to hear my filthy mind entertained you 🤭 This was such a fun project to work on bc John strikes me as such a playful lover. And YES, he's def the horniest Shelby brother. I'd be a sucker for his charm!!
Summary: James crosses all limits and takes Rose in his marital bed. || Mrs. Thorne comes.
Warnings: Cheating and no remorse, stupid decisions. Jealousy.
Words: 1.5k || This one is for you @zablife 😌. Ask and you shall receive.
Boldness and stupidity aren't synonymous but sometimes are.
Mrs. Thorne was out of town for four days. A friend of hers had gave birth in Dublin and she went there to congratulate the girl and also help her during the first days since was a single mother and also because now Mrs. Thorne was the godmother of the newborn baby.
Four days to do whatever they wanted to do and in those 96 hours for themselves, James crossed the unimaginable limit— he took his lover to his marital bed.
Tired of being in the shadows, tired of having him for some minutes every day, Rose accepted to go to his apartment because wanted to feel she could be as important as his wife was and living with him, even if was for less than a week, gave her that. His bed could be hers too. She had thoughts that society could despise and part of her despised herself as well because having an affair with a married man wasn't something she was proud of, but also that whole thing about the forbidden romance was exciting too.
To be honest with herself, Rose felt like the villain of some telenovela. The bitch, the one in between. But at that point, she didn't care anymore. Even less when it was her the one dominating this time. Even less when she wanted to have the control in his bed and he was willing to follow her.
"Fuck, Rosie," he said, sweating, when she didn't let him pulled out so he came inside her because couldn't hold it anymore. James let out a chuckle, trying to catch his breath. Her tights were red where he was holding her. "You were inspired today."
Rose leaned over him and both kissed again. "I just wanted to be with you. I love you," she murmured.
"I love you, too."
Over a month has passed since they went to a Scotland for a week and Rose accepted the fact that James needed to pretend more and spend more time with his wife, but that didn't mean she was fine but accepted it because she had no other option. She had no voice between them.
Rose never asked him to leave his wife, but he could see in her eyes that it was exactly what she wanted. Three months had passed since they had the first encounter and going home after being with Rose was harder every day. He didn't dare to make any promises either because was terrified of the consequences but sure as his name was James that he didn't feel like this before.
Taking Rose in his bed, the same one he shared with his wife, was his way to show her that was ready to make everything for her.
Her head was on his shoulder and he was caressing her back. Both were quiet, enjoying the company of the other. It was a little moment of peace they didn't have a lot.
"Why did you marry her?" Rose finally asked.
"We were young. It was something stupid and impulsive. I knew her since I was 15 and I thought she was the most beautiful woman on Earth. My life wasn't good, I didn't have a nice childhood or adolescence. She gave me the chance to escape. We were in love, I promise I was, but being young meant you do stupid shit and as soon as we were 18, we got married. The dumbest decision ever. I should have listen to my brother who told me it was plain stupid, but I just wanted to escape. Not longer after I discovered that Paradise can also be Hell and you can't escape. I used to thought that, at least." He stroked her cheek and saw her eyes filled with tears. "Ask me," he said. "Ask me what you want to know."
Rose shook her head. Married men rarely left their wives and she wasn't ready to hear empty promises. Instead, she asked him another thing "Are you mine?"
"I'm all yours. I love you and that's true. And since you don't want to ask, then finally I'm going to say it because despite my fears is what I want to do: I'm going to divorce her. I'm going to leave her and one day you're going to be the new, till my last day, Mrs. Thorne."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. Even if it takes more time. I can be a man and affront the consequences of being a cheater. I don't care, Rosie, I don't care anymore I want to be with you."
"I can wait for you."
He rolled in his bed until was on top of her, for no other reason but feel her closer. "You're everything to me. If it had been you from the very beginning, I swear I'd have never been in this situation. I made horrible mistakes in my life, but you're not one of them."
Rose closed her eyes when felt his hand behind her neck to push her to him. Both kissed again.
"Jamie," she said and smiled against his lips "What if instead of me being Mrs. Thorne, you're Mr. Coldwell."
"James Coldwell? Baby, this sounds like a promise. Yes, absolutely, yes."
The first night of four they were able to spend together was like a romantic movie, two people blindly in love that weren't aware of they surroundings. Weren't not just the endless moments making love but also, the laughs and dreams they shared. The kisses and cuddles in his sofa, the first breakfast in bed. Bed that still smelled like Mrs. Thorne but that was occupied by the other woman because the man of the house invited her.
They never saw the hidden camera. Mrs. Thorne knew, always had known, that for the last months her husband wasn't a role model for other married men but she let them because revenge is a dish better feel cold and like a cat she was playing with her food.
. . .
"There's a woman who wants to see you," said Annushka one morning. Two more weeks had passed since she had been in his flat, living an utopian life. His wife had returned after those four days as it was planned and Rose went back to the shadows.
"A customer? Tell one of the girls to help her."
"She exclusively asked for you. She's the daughter of Arthur Martin, the ambassador."
"Mr. Martin's daughter? I didn't know the Martins had a daughter. What's she doing here?*
"I don't know, but apparently it's related to the Event you have this weekend."
There was a charity ball in the Irish Embassy and Rose was invited after Charlotte Martin decided that wanted a dress made by her and then, some of her friends as well. So for the last five months Rose had been working on 10 dresses. Very well paid and she was happy about it, the invitation was courtesy.
Rose's heart sank when she saw her. The daughter in question was James' wife. She had seen some pictures of her the time she went to his apartment. Tall, blonde, hazel eyes… absolutely beautiful. Her name was Anya. Anya Thorne, née Martin. The wife. And was standing in her store, examining some dresses with particular interest.
"You're Rose," she said with a smile that Rose simply couldn't reciprocate. Her mind was in another place in that moment and the only thing she wanted to do was to call James.
"Yes, Ms. Martin," she replied, even knowing that it wasn't her name anymore.
"Oh, please, tell me Anya. This is just a beautiful store! My mother talked about it.
Rose felt very bad vibes coming from her, despite the sweet words and kind smiles. The eyes don't lie, the saying stated and Anya's eyes in that moment were full of something that Rose didn't dare to put into words.
"I don't have time to make a new dress," she rushed to say when Anya mentioned that was going to be in the same event her mother and father were going to be that weekend and wanted something to use. "No one told me that there was another guest."
"No, there's no need to make a new dress," Anya said and smiles again, this time putting a hand on Rose's shoulder. She was so tall, that for a moment Rose felt Anya was looking down at her like was a bug. "I'll buy one of the pretty ones are here already, I had seen few that I really loved. It's a pity that this store didn't exist yet when I got married. I'd have loved one of these," Anya added touching one of the white dresses. "My husband could have loved it as well. Are you married?"
Rose shook his head. She didn't like where the conversation was going and it was there when a voice in her head told her that Anya knew. Rose felt anxiety in her stomach and felt sick. She didn't know how much longer was going to be Anya there but she couldn't be there anymore.
"Excuse me a moment," Rose said before rushing to the bathroom the store had. Barely had time to knelt in front of the toilet. Her lunch ended there.
"Fuck," she said resting her forehead on the cold ceramic. Never until that moment had a panic attack but she was sure she was having one now. Her hands were shaking, her lungs felt like a heavy weight and couldn't breathe. Barely thinking of what she was doing, took her phone from her pocket and called James.
@justrainandcoffee Miss Coldwell meets Mrs. Thorne...
I know you were tempted to explore this dynamic anyway, but I'm flattered that you took my comments into consideration. Ngl I am living for the drama you're stirring up! It felt so risky for James to invite Rose into his home and I was right when you revealed his wife was watching them thru the cameras 😱 Then she comes to Rose's boutique to torture her? That's classic Anya!!! As much as I want James to become Mr. Coldwell, I'm scared for them. What will happen next? I'm dying to find out! Gah....this AU is soooo good, Flor!
Nina woke up that morning as usual. Nothing indicated that was going to be a different day. Turned on the radio to listen to some music while also prepared her breakfast. The newspaper was waiting for her in her door when she opened it. The header caught her attention, but didn't expect at all to read his name in the article.
Stefano Spinietta's body...
The lawyer had to read twice to be sure she wasn't dreaming. It was real as the sun in the sky— Someone had killed that motherfucker.
And Nina, at 7 AM, started to laugh incapable of helping herself. It was too early for something stronger but that night she was going to celebrate... And was going to send roses to whoever had done that.
The lawyer put the front page on her fridge and a sticky note on it: see you in hell.
A cheerful song, her lemon tea, some biscuits and the best news of all. That wasn't an ordinary morning. In fact, Nina didn't remember having a better morning in ages.
A/N: John lives in the Immortal Man AU requested by @peakyscillian. John is no longer a Peaky Blinder and lives a peaceful life in the country when Lizzie comes to say goodbye.
The dogs were the first to announce the pristine Bentley coasting past the front gate, causing John to take up the shotgun nearby. There hadn't been trouble since the Christmas of '25, nearly a decade ago, but he wasn't one to take chances.
His eyes tracked the automobile slowly, concealing his position until he caught a glimpse of the passenger, his brow furrowing as he recognized the sharp profile of a dark haired woman.
"Can't be," John mumbled to himself. They hadn't spoken since the vendetta, having taken opposing sides when it came time to support Tommy's delusions of power.
Throwing the front door open to the cold mist, he strode out toward the idling car with his gun slung over his shoulder. As he approached, the woman couldn't help but notice the tremble of his fingers over the barrel. In that moment the carefree young gangster she'd known in her youth disappeared to reveal a dying man on the gallows. Perhaps that's where his spirit would always remain, she thought, tucking her head to her chest.
She fiddled with the buttons of her gloves as she waited for the chauffeur to open her door, the ache in her chest growing. She took the hand offered to her, stepping out into the haze of gray with a thundering heart and willed her knees not to buckle under her.
"Lizzie," John uttered softly.
She hadn't anticipated his gentle tone, nor the look of nostalgic fondness in his deep blue eyes. Lizzie stood with unblinking concentration as an aching silence lingered between them.
Suddenly the world was empty, just the two of them locking eyes across a vacant path. "It's alright that I'm here, isn't it?" Lizzie asked on a shaky breath.
"Of course, you're always welcome," John assured her, dropping the weapon to his side.
"Is Esme..." Lizzie began, eyes roving the vacant grounds.
John answered the question before she'd finished, taking her elbow and guiding her to the house as he muttered, "visiting her sister."
A gust of wind rushed toward them and Lizzie realized she'd been holding her breath. She inhaled the fresh country air appreciatively, visibly relaxing as the notes of John's aftershave wafted over her.
But as she settled into the overstuffed chair in the lounge, her stomach began to twist with anticipation once more and her throat suddenly went dry. She was grateful when John suggested they have a drink, his easy smile reminding her of old times.
"Is it still gin?" he asked, reaching for the bottle before she'd given a polite nod. He knew she'd take a glass if only to have something to occupy the manicured hand plucking at the sagging upholstery.
As she caught his gaze upon her fingertips, Lizzie pulled her hands into her lap, stifling a self conscious laugh. After all this time, they could still communicate through body language alone and have perfect understanding of one another.
Turning to pour their drinks, John began to ramble about the improvements he'd made around the old farmhouse. He spared no detail from the price of lumber to the year he completed the new barn. The rumble of his baritone voice bored and consoled her in equal measure until she felt herself being lulled into a state of deep calm.
And then his Shelby blues were upon her, his hand brushing hers as she received the cold glass. She took a small sip of the gin as her eyes followed his movement to the opposite chair and John couldn't help but meet her gaze as he took a seat.
It was his turn to be self conscious now, finger tracing the rim of his glass as he blurted, "Sorry, I've been rabitting on and you haven't got a word in." He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees to show his keen interest.
"Not much to tell," Lizzie demurred, taking another sip of her gin to buy time. How could she give voice to the terrible events of her life when John had finally found peace?
"Don't give me that!" John goaded. "Es and I saw your picture in the paper dozens of times. You and Tom met every lord and lady in Christendom!" he exclaimed, eyes as bright and wide as a child.
Lizzie swallowed the lump in her throat when she thought of the Mosleys, shaking her head. "We're ordinary people, John."
John's smile began to fade, his brow lowering slightly as he thought of asking after his estranged brother. After all, how ordinary could their life be if the rumors were true about him blowing up Arrow House and locking himself away from his wife?
A peel of laughter from the hall broke his concentration, watching a tiny girl with a red ribbon dash past the doorway. John couldn't help but chuckle in return, until he saw the pallor of Lizzie's face.
"That's Katie's girl," John explained, gesturing for the child to come in.
The dark haired girl stood quietly, shifting her weight from one foot to another, thinking herself in trouble with her grandfather. She brightened instantly when John ran forward to capture her in his arms, imploring, "Come 'ere ya little rascal. Meet your auntie Lizzie."
"Hello," the little girl sang out as she dangled her legs over John's arms.
Lizzie rose to greet her, running a hand over the child's curls and staring at the shade of brunette a moment longer than intended.
"Do you like my ribbon? I could find one for your hair if you like," she offered with a giggle.
"That's very kind," Lizzie answered as John set the girl's feet on the ground once more.
She gave a little twirl at Lizzie's feet, followed by a wobbly curtsy that earned her a round of applause and a compliment. "You're quite grown up, aren't you?"
"I'm seven next week," the child chirped.
Suddenly Lizzie melted into a watery smile and John dismissed his granddaughter. "Go and fetch the eggs from the henhouse, will you?"
As the child scurried away, John tried to help Lizzie to a chair, but she only shook her head at his attempt. "I'm fine," she whispered unconvincingly.
"It's my fault we weren't there for ya," John blurted out, the weight in his heart falling to the pit of his stomach as he confessed the shame of not attending Ruby's funeral. "You had to put your only child on the smoke...We should've been there," John nodded to himself, dropping his head into his hands.
Lizzie straightened when she heard this, reaching for John's hand as she confided her own secret. "I worried I was the reason you never came home."
He gave her a squeeze, shaking his head to dispel the theory. "Remember all those years ago at the derby? You told me to get out. That advice saved my life, Lizzie."
His face rose to meet hers and Lizzie couldn't help but reach out to caress his cheek, wanting to make things right after all these years of silence. As she did so, the gravitational pull became too great to resist and she leaned in to place a tentative kiss to his lips. But she soon pulled away whispering an apology along with admonishments to herself.
"You're alright," John told her as his eyes remained fixed on the ground.
"No, it's not. I shouldn't have...I...I only wanted to say goodbye. I'm leaving for America in the morning," she informed him. "I've been to Ruby's grave and said goodbye to Arthur...though I don't think he heard me in his stupor."
"And you wanted to see me," John added quietly, a swell of pride rising in his chest.
Lizzie nodded in agreement as she slowly rose from her seat. "Goodbye, John."
John rushed to stand, feeling disoriented by the departure. "Let me walk you to your car," he offered.
Lizzie stopped him, pressing her palms to his chest. "No, please...I want to remember you just as you are, here in your farmhouse with your children....happy," she mused tearfully.
A red ribbon bobbed past the windowsill and John looked out to see his granddaughter carrying an apron full of eggs toward the kitchen. When he turned back, Lizzie was gone. All he could do was wave impotently to the driver as her car crested the hill.
@peakyscillian I'm glad you enjoyed it, darl! I know it was a bit self indulgent to include Lizzie when the request was only for John, but I had to explore her journey as well. I was disappointed we didn't get to see her in the film. Anyway, tysm for your kind words 💕
Men who talk shit about gold diggers underestimate the grit it takes to put up with an insufferable man, even when money is involved. We should be thanking them for their service like they are veterans.
“Mostly, I straddle reality and the imagination. My reality needs imagination like a bulb needs a socket. My imagination needs reality like a blind man needs a cane.”
Rose is sitting on the floor watching Heaven finishing her performance. The dancer seems to be one with the wind and the music and Rose can't help but feel mesmerized by her movements. It is like the Russian girl forgets about the world while is dancing.
But Rose isn't there to have a private dance, although almost is, but to talk about some serious things.
Isn't true that all of us have dirty secrets? Like the judge in charge of Amos' case that prefers the company of young girls, that although legally adults, could compromise his image and his marriage? Blackmailing is so easy if you know how.
Easy as get the plans of Mountjoy -the prison where James and Amos are- because if blackmailing doesn't work, escaping is the alternative.
@justrainandcoffee Literally squealed when I saw the silhouette of Rose's hair! So pretty 😍 And the notion of her teaming up with Hev to topple corrupt, powerful men?!? Yes, pls!!
