lunarubra

[lunarubra]

Ok, my teeth are rotting from all the fluff, comfort, and care.

Laureeeeeeen, why are you doing this to me?! I also started my period today. Where is my Tommy taking care of me?! Instead, I only have an angry kitten on my hands because it's raining and she can't go out to hunt poor lizards.

“Sweetheart?” his large hand rested tentatively on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”     God, I wish this was a nightmare, she thought miserably, shaking her head.

Aw, Lucy. You poor baby, I just want to hug you. You need to silence that patriarchal voice in your head and make every man regret not experiencing periods. You're our freaking queen, Luce, and red is your color! I know society often makes those with uteruses feel embarrassed, but it shouldn't. You're amazing. <3 And having cramps for five days is the perfect excuse to remind everyone with a penis that your uterus is bleeding and you're in pain, so they should worship the ground you walk on.

Okay, I'm done, I swear...

I loved this so much; I got emotional during the comfort part. Maybe it's the hormones, but still. It was so sweet and beautiful, Laur. The way you wrote about it was delicate and accurate. I just want to hug and squeeze you <3

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” She felt her cheeks flare with bashful warmth, burrowing down into his pectorals. “Shut up,” she mumbled into his warm skin, his laugh vibrating against her cheek.

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ghdjkjkaakjhajkhdajkhajkhakjhdkhdajkjhad You are a cruel, cruel person, Laur! I want to scream, cry, run around the room. They are so in love, and sweet, and idiots, and...

And the smut. Tommy, you are so right. Please, let's say it all louder for the people in the back. I really appreciate this part and how progressive you write Tommy. He's an example of a real human man, not like those macho guys I see everywhere. Guys, take notes from this chapter. That's how you should behave with your girlfriend or partner during a period.

Okay, I swear I'm shutting up now. Thanks again for an amazing chapter, sweetheart! <3

Part 5: Not Afraid of a Little Blood

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: When an incident occurs that leaves Lucy horribly embarrassed, Tommy has to find a way to reassure her that a bit of blood is of no consequence to him.

Word Count: 3,876

Notes: Warnings for depictions of menstruation, menstrual blood, and smut including period sex.

Masterlists: Main • Series

Previous Part • Next Part

Lucy woke up in a haze, her eyelids heavy and her head feeling groggy and like it had been stuffed full of cotton. She groaned softly, brows pinching together while she turned her face against her pillow. 

Or, well, technically Tommy’s chest. That she was using as a pillow.

How could she still be so tired? They’d actually managed to go to bed at a semi-decent hour last night. The exhaustion clinging to her made no sense. 

She cracked an eye open in irritation, taking in the darkness of the room. 

Oh, that was why she was so tired. It was still the middle of the night.

Shifting a little to get more comfortable in the narrow bed she and Tommy were squished in in his room, she frowned again as her brain became aware of a dull, all-too familiar ache in her lower abdomen, radiating from the spot just below her belly button and throbbing within her lower back. 

Her eyes snapped out, mouth parting in silent horror. 

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no…

She wasn’t due to start for at least another week!

Reaching down, hoping that by some miracle she was wrong and perhaps just had a stomachache–though she already knew in her bones that wasn’t the case–she slipped her fingers to the knickers she was wearing under one of Tommy’s undershirts that she’d stolen to wear to bed. 

A little whimper of mortification left her at the sensation of sticky wetness already soaking the gusset of her underwear. There was wetness from the blood on the sheets beneath her as well. 

For a moment she lay frozen, unsure exactly what to do. A large part of her was tempted to just borrow in on herself in shame. Or perhaps find a nice hole to crawl in and promptly die of embarrassment.

Tommy’s arm twitched around her, and she froze, staring up into his face with wide eyes. His features were relaxed and peaceful, small snores emitting with the steady tempo of his breathing.

She felt her bottom lip pout and start to tremble with unshed tears. He was going to be so mad at her.   

Probably disgusted too. She would never forget when she was a young, self-conscious teenager and she first started getting her menses; how her brothers Elliot and Patrick had shrieked when they saw her miserably trying to wash her bloodied sheets in the mornings. How they’d told her she was gross.   

It would’ve been one thing if they were at her flat, in her own bed, and it was her sheets she’d just wrecked. She probably still would have felt the urge to run away and hide out of mortification, but at least it would have been her own property she’s massacred and not his.  

She needed to get out of this bed. Before she caused even more horrendous damage. 

Once she was certain Tommy wasn’t about to wake up, she moved slowly, inching her way out from under his arm, keeping an eye on him to make sure that he didn’t rouse. He was such a light sleeper, it made it incredibly difficult for her to be able to even sneak out of bed to use the loo in the middle of the night without waking him. 

Finally sitting up, she nudged the sheets slowly off of her. Eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room and able to make out a little more than just dark, shadowy shapes, she bit her lip, and looked down to properly assess the damage. 

A horrified gasp left her lips before she could stop herself. 

Oh, it was so much worse than she had initially thought. Her knickers were destroyed, a dark, wide-spreading stain marking the sheets below her. There was even a little seeped into the back of the shirt she was wearing. 

Hot tears immediately started to roll down her cheeks, the combination of mortification, hormones, and fear of just what Tommy was going to do when he saw sending her hurtling into near hyperventilation. She buried her face in her hands, trying to stifle her little whimpers of humiliation. 

“Lucy?” 

An agonized whine left her throat at the sound of Tommy’s voice, then rustling beside her as he sat up.

“Sweetheart?” his large hand rested tentatively on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”    

God, I wish this was a nightmare, she thought miserably, shaking her head. 

“Then what’s wrong?” his hand slid down to rest between her shoulder blades, carefully rubbing circles into her back. 

She lifted her head to stare at him miserably, sniffling. 

“I’m sorry.”

His brows pulled together in confusion. “For what?” when she didn’t respond, he let out a quiet, puzzled laugh, leaning closer. “Lucy?”

She shrank in on herself, cramping stomach roiling with nerves. To buy herself time, she wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. 

“I didn’t mean to…I swear I thought…” she had to pause to sniffle. “I thought I had another week to go before it started. Usually…usually I can tell that it’s going to start soon. I don’t…I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry…” her voice broke when she started to cry harder. Tommy’s hands gripped her shoulders, turning her to look at him, expression filled with nothing but concern.     

“Luce, whoa, whoa, wait, what? What are you talking about, love?”

She clapped a hand across the lower half of her face, fighting to get herself under control and failing miserably. The realization that the violent spasmings of her sobs was causing her to bleed even more intensely than she already was added a sudden shock of franticness to her already spiraling emotions. 

“Lucy? Lucy, hey, hey,” Tommy was trying to cup her face and draw her in closer to him to comfort her. “Love, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” when another whimper left her lips, he reached out to push a curl back behind her ear. “It’s okay. You can tell me, eh? It’s alright.” 

“I–” she took a deep breath. “I bled all over your sheets, Tommy.”

For a moment he looked confused, until she scooted a little on the bed so he could see the stain under her. 

“Oh.”

She whined, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry–”

“Wha–? Hey, no, no, it’s alright, eh?” he gently pried her hands away, features relaxed and somewhat bemused. “You had me worried there for a second,” he pecked her forehead. “I thought something bad had happened.” 

She stared at him, stunned, brain short-circuiting a little at the general lack of significant reaction that she had been expecting. “You’re not mad?” her voice was quiet and timid. 

Tommy let out a bewildered laugh, shaking his head. “No, I’m not mad.”

For some reason, that too made tears well back up into her eyes, and his expression softened. 

“Oh, love, c’mere,” he reached out to coax her into his arms, but she tried to pull away, shaking her head and trying to move around him to get out of the bed. 

“I need to get up before I make it worse–”

“No, come here,” he pulled her into his arms, giving her a squeeze and kissing the crown of her head. “It’s okay, I promise. Not a big deal. I’m not upset with you,” he rubbed her back. “Eh?”

She nodded weakly into his chest. 

“That’s my girl,” he kissed her temple. “Right,” he leaned back, cupping her cheeks, his voice still soft and gentle. “Go get cleaned up. I think Polly or Ada keep some things in the cabinet under the sink if you need them. I’ll take care of the sheets.”

She instantly started shaking her head, mouth opening. “I can–” 

Tommy shut her up with a quick kiss before she could continue protesting. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it; just go get cleaned up.”

Knowing that it likely wouldn’t do much good to argue with him considering he’d already made up his mind about it, she nodded. He loosened his grip on her, letting her climb out of the bed and awkwardly shuffle for the door, trying to keep her legs together as much as possible to keep from dripping onto the floor. She poked her head cautiously out into the hall, checking to make sure there was no one lurking around who might spot her before darting down the hall to the little washroom at the end of it. 

Once the green door was shut with a soft click, she latched both hands to the rim of the sink’s basin, head bowed forward, dragging in deep breaths to try to calm herself. When she finally looked up at herself in the mirror, she was met with a mess: her cheeks swollen and splotchy with red, eyes bloodshot. She ran a hand through her hair to try to tame it, not accomplishing much. Distantly she heard the creak of feet on the stairs. Probably Tommy going to fill a bucket or basin with water from the one of the sinks in the kitchen or washroom downstairs. 

With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the tub in the far corner, and set about assessing the damage.  

In the bright light of the washroom, it wasn’t actually nearly as terrible as she’d initially thought it to be by touch and blurry night vision alone. Her knickers were more or less ruined, but they seemed to have contained the damage a little better than she’d originally assessed. And only a tiny bit had leaked through onto the back bottom part of the shirt she was wearing. 

She winced at a particularly nasty cramp that gripped her lower abdomen, taking a moment before rising again to plug the sink and turn on the cold water. While the basin filled, she set to work rifling around in the cabinet under the sink, finding the sanitary napkins stored there and pulling one out. 

She mentally struck herself for not bringing a change of clothes with her. The napkin wouldn’t exactly do her much good until she did. 

Dropping the napkin back where she found it, she rose to turn off the tap and sat back down on the edge of the tub.

She considered going back to the bedroom for some fresh knickers, but she wasn’t entirely ready to have to face Tommy again quite yet.

With a small groan, she dropped her head into her hands. Despite his reassurances, she was still so completely and utterly mortified she half hoped that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole so that she wouldn’t have to face him again.  

She sniffled, nose still a little stuffy from crying. 

Ugh. Not only had she bled all over the place, but then she’d cried on him like a fucking idiot. 

A soft knock tapped on the door. “Lucy?”

She just whimpered in response. Probably too quiet for him to hear. 

Another knock. “Love, are you okay?”

When she still didn’t answer, the door opened just a crack so that he could peak in. When he saw her seated on the tub with her head in her hands, he stepped hastily into the room, closing the door behind him.

“I brought you some clean clothes.”

He set the folded white undershirt–another one of his–and fresh pair of underwear down, taking a seat beside her on the rim of the tub. His big hand smoothed out across her back. 

“Lucy?”

“I want to die,” she mumbled into her palms. He chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

She dropped her hands, letting his arm pull her closer to his side until her head was resting on his shoulder. “I’m mortified.”

“Don’t be. Those sheets and that mattress have seen way worse.”

“How bad was it really?” she asked.

“Not terrible. I left them to soak overnight in a basin of cold water in the washroom downstairs. Reckon that the stains will come out completely, actually…What?” he asked at the look she gave him, then chuckled. “This isn’t my first time having to get blood out of fabric, you know.”

She snorted a little, face turned to half press into the crook of his neck. Tommy’s cheek landed to rest on the top of her head. 

“You really thought I would be mad at you?” he asked after a moment, voice quieter. Lucy shrugged. 

“I dunno,” in hindsight, perhaps it did seem a little silly. He was never anything but gentle and sweet with her, after all. “My father and brothers could be really mean, when I was a teenager,” she added softly, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. Tommy’s arm tightened protectively around her shoulders in reaction.    

“Fucking idiots. Don’t listen to a word they said,” he grumbled, lips brushing her forehead. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a little blood to scare me away,” she smiled to herself at his words, snuggling closer, then winced as another cramp seized her. Tommy squeezed her. “Hurts?”

She nodded. His palm slid down to her lower back, massaging careful circles into it. The warmth from his hand and the soothing movements were nice. “That helps.”

He hummed, continuing the massage for a few more moments, then pecking her temple. “I’ll let you finish getting cleaned up.”

“‘Kay. Thank you for the clean clothes.” 

He just smiled softly, kissing her head again before standing and slipping quietly out the door. She stared at the door after he’d disappeared behind it for a moment more before moving, a tiny smile pulling at her lips before she stood to get cleaned up and changed. When she finally found her way to the bedroom, Tommy had already put a fresh pair of sheets on the bed, sprawled out lazily on his back and smoking while he waited for her. When he saw her, he smiled, turning to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and drawing the sheets aside so she could get in. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what was clutched in her hand.  

“What’s the towel for?”

She looked down at the white fabric. “For me to lay on. In case I leak anymore during the night.” 

“Mm,” he hummed in understanding, one arm folding behind his head as he watched her climb over him to settle back on her side of the bed, spreading out the towel there before laying down. She yelped when Tommy promptly rolled over, laying on his side and engulfing her in his arms. Without her permission, a startled giggle left her lips, peering up at him from where her head was resting on his chest. He purred, stroking her cheek and smiling to himself.

“What?”    

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

She felt her cheeks flare with bashful warmth, burrowing down into his pectorals. “Shut up,” she mumbled into his warm skin, his laugh vibrating against her cheek. Her lower belly was still aching intensely, but being pressed up to him like that helped soothe it somewhat. He was so warm, it was not unsimilar to holding a warm water bottle to her stomach. 

“You alright?” one of his hands found her lower back again, massaging those soothing circles. She nodded weakly.

“Just cramping.”

“Bad?”

She nodded again. No use in trying to keep it from him when he could so easily read her like a book. 

“You know…” he started, then stopped. She peaked up at him curiously to find him staring at the wall, frowning. Like he was debating in his head whether to actually utter what he was thinking. 

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s just…I might be able to help you, if you wanted…”

Her brows furrowed. “How…?”

He caressed her face gingerly. “Whenever Greta’s cramps were particularly bad, we found that…orgasms helped to ease them.”

Her eyes widened. Despite the pain, a little flutter of arousal stirred between her legs.  

“You don’t have to,” he added hastily. “But if you wanted to try it…” his lips quirked up. “My services are available.”

She giggled a little in spite of herself, reaching up to trace the shape of one of his sharp cheekbones. “Won’t it make a mess?”

“That’s what the towel is for, love.”

Humming in contemplation, she considered the offer. The cramps in her stomach would make it difficult to get back to sleep. If he really could offer a bit of relief from them…

And then there was the pool of arousal that his suggestion had already awoken in her, inner walls twitching and clit throbbing at the suggestion. 

“If you really would be up for it…” she started, and saw Tommy’s eyes light up a little with excitement. “I’d like to try it.”

The second the sentence had passed her lips, his mouth was crashing down onto hers, deep, open-mouthed kisses nearly making her swoon as he rolled on top of her in one fluid motion. 

“Careful,” she whispered softly, even as her hands slipped up his shirt to start inching it off of him. He raised his arms so she could peel it off the whole way and toss it to the floor, his hands balancing on the mattress near either side of her head once it was off. 

“I’ll be so careful with you, love,” he crooned, kissing her again.      

Together, they quickly removed the remainder of each other’s clothes. Tommy’s warm hands skimmed cautiously over her breasts, mindful of how sore they currently were as he cupped one gingerly in his palm while they other hand continued to travel further south. A flare of self consciousness passed over her when two of his thick digits swiped experimentally at her entrance, collecting some of the wetness, both from arousal and blood, there. But Tommy didn’t balk. Didn’t even bat a fucking eye as he set to work very slowly and gently fingering her, thumb rubbing her clit steadily while he slipped one finger into her, working her over until he deemed her warmed up enough to add a second. 

Lucy moaned at the welcomed intrusion. Everything seemed to be more sensitive, his steady movements sending her head spinning. 

“Tommy…” she whimpered, walls squeezing around his fingers. He groaned, quiet and low in his chest.

“Feels good, love?” at her nod, he kissed her, swallowing one of her moans. “Can’t be too loud, don’t want the others to hear…”

She bit her lip, fighting to suppress her noises. Tommy nudged her cheek with his nose. 

“Think you’d be up for something a little bigger than my fingers? Hm?”

“Yes,” she nodded desperately, gripping tight to his shoulders. Tommy hummed, withdrawing his fingers, wiping them on the towel spread out below her. She inhaled sharply at the feeling of his thick erection bumping against her inner thigh before he lined himself up, nose knocking hers, warm breath fanning out across her cheeks. 

“Ready?”

She angled her head, lifting it to kiss him. “Yes.” 

When he entered her, he glided in with almost zero resistance, large cock pushing in and splitting her open until their hips were flush together.

They gasped into each other’s mouths. Lucy’s legs had wrapped around his waist, one hand still clutching his shoulder while the other gripped his back. He was cradling her in his arms, face close enough to hers even after they stopped kissing and just rested their foreheads together that she could’ve counted the freckles dotting his cheeks. 

He shifted a little inside of her, groaning with lowered lashes that raised quickly to assess her face. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” 

She shook her head; quite the opposite, actually, with his cock pressing right up against her most sensitive places. He kissed her cheek, beginning to move over her, slow and gentle, cupping the side of her face. As his hips rolled steadily into her she moaned softly, head tipping back against the pillows. He grunted, and had her mind not been so hazy with pleasure she might’ve been embarrassed at the wet squelching sounds of their coupling.

Tommy was everywhere: above her and inside her, thumb rolling over her clit, arm around her, forehead resting on hers. His groans each time he bottomed out inside of her were low but impossibly deep, his chest vibrating with them where it was pressed against hers. 

Always so sweet with her. Always so loving and gentle. So often going out of his way to do things for her that he knew would make her smile. Eager to take care of her any time she needed him. 

“I love you so much,” she whispered, cradling both sides of his face. His eyes widened a fraction, a guttural moan leaving his throat. She felt his cock twitch and throb inside her. 

“I love you too,” his voice was hoarse, an octave lower than usual, and it made her insides just about turn to jelly, walls squeezing around his cock as her orgasm became imminent. The room was filled with the combined cacophony of their pleasured sounds, bed frame rattling a little with each slow, deep thrust. 

“I’m close–” it came out as a desperate plea, back arching slightly off of the bed as his cock hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. 

“Yes, come, Lucy,” Tommy started to kiss her neck, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “Come for me, sweetheart, come. Let me help you, baby. Let me make you feel better.”

With a tiny cry she only managed to keep half muffled, she buried her face into his shoulder, muscles locking down on him and straining with the force of her orgasm. He growled pleasantly, hips bucking a few more times before he stilled, following her right over the cliff with a strangled groan that sounded suspiciously like her name. His cock throbbing and twitching as it emptied generously into her.   

They laid slumped together like that for a good long while, Tommy peppering kisses along her neck and shoulders while she stroked carefully through his soft, dark hair. Finally he raised his head, giving her a sleepy smile.

“Feeling better?”

She blinked, only then remembering their reasoning for all this in the first place. Shifting her hips a little experimentally, she was struck with the realization that the pain in her lower stomach had retreated almost completely. 

“Actually, yeah.”

He chuckled at her moderate surprise, kissing her nose. “Good.”

They both winced as he pulled out of her, and for the second time that night she found herself awkwardly shuffling to the bathroom to clean up. When she returned to bed it was to find that he’d replaced the towel spread out on the mattress with a clean one.

“C’mere,” his arm looped around her waist, pulling her back into bed so that she was resting on his chest. They were both still naked, save for her in her underwear and sanitary napkin. He hugged her close, tipping her head up so he could kiss her sweetly. “Try to sleep, love.”

She nodded, snuggling closer. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Tommy shook his head, smiling gently, eyes soft and loving. “Nothing to thank me for, love.”

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Previous Part • Next Part

Masterlists: Main • Series

#lauren <3 #lucy winters x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders

[lunarubra]

Hi :) I still have to read and comment the last chapters from your series Heart, Body and Soul, I hope it's not a problem I skipped directly here :)

I enjoyed this chapter so damn much!

“It’s the last year,” he murmured, reaching his hand out to tenderly caress her cheek. “You can be lucky once again.”

This part broke my heart a little. The way her father said goodbye to her, hoping for luck that isn't there. One thing that really struck me in THG is how hope and luck are manipulated by Snow and Capitol, making the districts almost feel guilty about being subjected to the reaping ceremony. It's the basis of every regime, making the masses feel responsible for their situation.

I also really enjoyed how you skipped to when Nina is a mentor; by the way, she's already such a good one. Also, that 'Hello, kid' from Alfie made my day! I can't wait to read more and know what happened during her games. I'm really curious about how you're going to develop her timeline with Tommy. He's going to be there, right?

If you don't mind, could I be added to your tag list? I love Nina so damn much, and I enjoy everything you write about her <3

Thank you for sharing this chapter and your characters with us; you're such a good writer! Hugs!

The Danger We Come From

CHAPTER I

A Peaky Blinders x Hunger Games crossover

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nina Ferrante

Summary: during the 72nd edition of the Hunger Games, one year after her victory, Nina becomes a mentor. But the events of the previous edition are still imprinted in her mind.

Warnings: mentions of violence and murder, no proofreading, I’m writing this for fun.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of this crossover! If you haven’t read it yet, I recommend you to catch up with Nina’s backstory before reading this. More information is given in the masterlist I’ve linked below. Also, there’s a brief reference to @justrainandcoffee ’ OC, Rose.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul (set in canon times).

AU MASTERLIST

71st edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

After tying the end of her braid with a white ribbon, Nina took one last look in the mirror to make sure her appearance was neat enough. The clothes she had chosen for the occasion were a bit too lose for her scrawny frame, but she had found a safety pin to hold the grey skirt up, and the white shirt was clean and undamaged. It wasn’t that bad, overall.

Fear felt like a vice grip on her stomach as she tried to muster up the courage to head to the kitchen, convincing herself that the sooner she got to the Justice Building, the sooner it would end. But the thing was - it wouldn’t end. Nina could feel it in her bones, she was sure of it as she was sure of her own name. She had asked for too many tesserae for the odds to be in her favour one last time.

When she entered the room, her father was sitting at the table, staring at an indefinite point ahead of him. Her mother and brothers were probably already waiting outside, like every year. Just like her, they seemed eager to get it over with, like one would with the extraction of an aching tooth.

“I’m ready,” she murmured, catching her dad’s attention. Ready. It sounded almost funny, in that situation.

He got up from the chair, giving her the sad, forced smile of a man who knew his daughter was up for a slaughter, but tried to keep it together for everybody’s sake. “It’s the last year,” he murmured, reaching his hand out to tenderly caress her cheek. “You can be lucky once again.”

Those words struck a chord in Nina, awakening the sleeping rage she fought so hard to keep at bay. She could’ve been lucky, if she hadn’t been forced to take the burden of not only one, but two families on her shoulders, without anyone doing a damn thing about it.

“It’s time to go,” she simply said, taking a step back.

Her father’s hand fell by his side, and a flicker of pain shone in his eyes for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him right away, causing him to give up before even starting to speak. Not surprised by that silence, Nina nodded to herself and turned around to walk to the door, but she was soon stopped by her dad’s voice.

“Nina,” he called her, making her turn around. His gaze hesitantly found hers, and it took him a moment to begin again. “How many times is your name in the reaping bowl?”

She faltered at his question, and she wondered if it’d be of any use to tell him the truth now. It didn’t take her long for concluding that it wouldn’t. What was done was done, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already knew the truth. He just pretended to be oblivious to it, just like everybody else.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, walking out the door.

The banners of the Capitol solemnly hanged off the walls of the Justice Building, their bright red sharply contrasting with the grey stones. The expensive fabric seemed almost ridiculous in that picture of poverty and desolation. Those banners didn’t belong there.

Nina didn’t bat an eye as the peacekeeper prickled her finger to confirm her identity. After six years, she had kind of gotten used to it. The same couldn’t be said for Agnese, her cousin, who still flinched when the needle pierced her skin. When Agnese’s sisters got identified as well, the small group separated, with Nina and Agnese taking their places in the front rows, and the other two with the younger girls. On the stage in front of them stood the two reaping bowls, filled to the top with names. Behind them, the escort sent by the Capitol - what was her name again? -, the mayor and district 9’s only victor, Alfie Solomons. When the mayor stepped forward, the soft buzz of voices died down, and the square fell silent. Agnese grabbed Nina’s hand and held it tightly, giving her an encouraging look. She really thought that both of them would make it.

As the mayor recited the history of Panem, Nina’s mind started wandering, searching for something else to focus on. She had heard it so many times that she would be able to recite it by heart, if asked to. She needed to get out of there, if just for a moment, even if just with her head, but the only thing she could think about was what would happen if the escort called her name. The escort. The woman’s intricate hairstyle caught her eye, offering her brain some sort of escape. Lime green was an interesting choice of colour. It had to be a wig. There was no way that one person could have that much hair. How did it even manage to stay up like that?

Her mind chased thought after thought, capturing the most trivial details and transforming them into the object of deep reflection, until the escort’s high-pitched voice snapped her out of that sort of trance. She hadn’t even noticed that she had stepped forward, taking the mayor’s place.

“Now it’s time for us to find out who will have the honour to represent district 9 in the 71st edition of the Hunger Games,” she smiled, making her way toward one of the bowls. “As usual, ladies first…”

She’d call her name. She knew it.

Nina held her breath as the escort grabbed one of the white cards, her struggling with opening it with her long nails only prolonging the painful wait.

There was her name on that card. She could feel it. She would be reaped. She would die.

If the square had been silent before, now one could almost hear the fluttering of a fly’s wings. Time seemed to stand still while the woman finally opened the card, taking her time before announcing the female tribute.

“Nina Ferrante.”

Nina’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she hoped it had only been a trick of her imagination. But it wasn’t. The way her cousin turned to look at her, like the other people who knew her, told her that all of that was very much real. Her ears rang as she made her way toward the stage, a strange feeling of numbness pervading her completely. A few peacekeepers boarded her to make sure she wouldn’t run away. But running away was the last thing on her mind while she mechanically walked in the empty corridor that lead to the stage, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what was happening. However, that sort of disconnection didn’t prevent her from yanking her arm free from one of the peacekeepers’ grip when she felt his hand wrap around it, glaring at him. If she had to walk to her death, she’d walk on her own.

“Come, dear,” the escort gently put a hand behind her shoulder once she stepped on the stage, guiding her to the center.

Nina slowly started to register what was happening around her, to her, when she met Alfie Solomons’s unreadable gaze, and when the crowd’s pitiful look started to pierce through her. It angered her, the way they were looking at her. As if she had absolutely no chance.

“And for the boy…” the woman reached the other bowl, catching her attention once again. She opened the card, this time more easily. “Oliver Cropper.”

Oliver Cropper. She knew that boy. They were in the same class, before he dropped out of school to help his family. They even say next to each other, from time to time. As far as she could remember, he was a nice kid, a bit lonely and broody, but kind. The tall, lanky boy stepped on the stage, in his dark eyes the same look she had until a couple of minutes ago.

“Our tributes from district 9,” the escort proclaimed, a big smile plastered on her face. “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

72nd edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

Exactly one year had passed since Nina’s reaping. Against all expectations, she was still there, alive. Even her family couldn’t believe it when she was proclaimed victor.

In her house in the Victor’s Village, the life she had left behind felt as distant as ever. She didn’t have to ask for tesserae to support her family, she didn’t have to put up with Salvatore’s addiction, or Pietro’s anger, or her mother’s apathy, or her father’s silence. They had all chosen to keep on living in the family home, chained to the memory of a time when they were still whole. Nina, on the other hand, had closed the door on it. Or so she told herself.

She was a mentor, now. After the reaping, she would head to Capitol City once again, but with an entirely different role. Although she hated the idea of going back to that place, she felt somehow obliged to. There was only one victor besides her in district 9, after all, and those kids needed all the advice they could get. It didn’t feel right to go on with her life without caring about what happened to them.

72 years. That shit had been going on for 72 years, and no one had ever done anything to stop it. People watched their children be sent to the slaughter without batting an eye, simply accepting the way things were. What was it that made them so afraid to act? The worst was already happening, right in front of their eyes.

There had to be a way to stop it. It was a nagging thought, one that had been tormenting her for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that things had to stay like that forever. There had to be a way to change them.

The square in front of the Justice Building was just starting to fill up when Nina arrived. Hundreds of kids, waiting for two of them to be possibly sent to their deaths, hoping the selected cards wouldn’t bear their name. It felt strange, not to be part of it anymore. Her two younger cousins were, though, and she couldn’t ignore that the possibility of one of them being reaped was not so distant as she thought. It was a terrifying prospect, one she never allowed herself to dwell on, for the consequences would be devastating.

“Hello, kid,” a familiar voice pulled her from her brooding. She was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed that Alfie had joined her on the stage.

“Alfie.”

They stood there in silence for a while, in an unspoken agreement that there wasn’t much to say, in that situation. However, Nina didn’t fail to notice the scowl on his face, and couldn’t be silent about it. “I see you’re in a good mood, as usual.”

“No reason to be in a good mood.”

“Right,” she nodded. After a moment of pause, feeling the need to lighten the mood in some way, Nina started speaking again. “Well…” she raised her eyebrows, pondering her next words. “You do have one,” she teased him, holding back a mischievous grin. The glare he sent her way told her he knew all to well what she was referring to. Who she was referring to. And he was probably fed up with her teasing already.

“Just kidding,” she raised her hands in defeat.

Their brief exchange was stopped by the mayor, who stepped forward to officially start the reaping. The whole process went by faster than Nina remembered, and she figured time is perceived in a very different way when you’re not the one risking your life. Much to her relief, none of her cousins were reaped. The names of the 72nd Hunger Games’ tributes were Nora and Lucas.

The boy, Lucas, was thirteen, and Nora was eighteen. Her reaping had been bad luck, just like Nina’s. She looked so young that it felt impossible that they were almost the same age, and Nina wondered, did she look that young too the day of her reaping?

From the reaping on, everything happened in a haze, and before Nina could realise it, they were all sitting in the luxurious train taking them to Capitol City. Elle, the escort, took it upon herself to enumerate all the wonderful things they would see at the Capitol, all the comforts they would be provided with during their stay, the food they would get to eat, but the kids were too busy trying not to panic to even hear a word she was saying.

“Elle,” Nina interrupted her with a scolding tone. “I think it’s enough.”

Silence fell in the wagon, and for a few minutes no one said a thing, gathering their thoughts before starting to talk about more serious matter. Nina felt a pair of eyes on her, and it didn’t take her long to notice that Nora was looking at the ugly scar that crossed the left side of her face, from the tip of her eyebrow to the centre of her cheek. Although the girl was trying to be subtle with it, she wasn’t really discreet. Nina wasn’t offended, though, nor did she feel uneasy. She was aware it was almost impossible not to let the eye fall on it, especially for a young girl.

“Alright,” Nina suddenly spoke, deciding they had wasted enough time already. “First rule, use your brains. They’re the biggest weapon you can have in the Arena.”

“My biggest weapon is my strength.” Lucas interrupted her, causing her to turn to look at him. She knew he hadn’t done it out of defiance, but out of eagerness to talk about the things he considered most important.

“I’m strong,” he added. “I work the fields with my dad.”

“You work the fields,” Nina repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“The kids from the Career districts are trained in Academies. Chances are, if one of them crosses your path - you’re dead, no matter how strong you are.”

Alfie cleared his throat, probably signalling her that she was being a bit too harsh, but she ignored him.

“It’s a good thing to be strong,” she continued, softening her tone a bit. “It’s an advantage. But even your strength won’t be enough to save you if you don’t know how to use your head. The Arena is tricky. It’s not just the tributes that you need to worry about. It’s the plants, the berries, the mutts, even the fucking water. You have to know what to look out for.”

Lucas nodded, leaning back in his seat as he listened attentively to Nina’s words.

“Watch, observe, take as much as you can. You know your strengths, so work on your weaknesses,” she concluded, shifting her gaze between Lucas and Nora.

She didn’t want to seem mean, or sour, but she knew that being too soft wouldn’t help those kids. They didn’t need someone to sugarcoat the truth, they needed to know what to expect if they wanted to have a chance to get out of the Arena alive. And Nina would do anything in her power to help them. It was her job, now. She couldn’t fail them.

NEXT CHAPTER

@call-sign-shark @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @emotionalcadaver

#nina ferrante x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #hunger games au #peaky blinders imagine

[lunarubra]

I will always try to find an excuse to celebrate Lucy, Laur, so there was no way I could skip her birthday!

I'm sure those two celebrate accordingly in the Peaky universe, enjoy many cuddles from Trouble too, and hope they found a moment of peace in the much harsher Hunger Games universe.

Sending you a big hug, and thank you for creating such amazing character!

Lucy Winters Moodboard

Birthdays in Panem always weighed heavily on Lucy.

Her childhood bore this burden upon her shoulders as she counted down the years to her first reaping, akin to a condemned man awaiting execution. She watched her brothers risk being chosen as tribute, and then came her 12th birthday, where the true nightmare began.

Every passing year seemed to test her luck, each birthday marking another year of precarious freedom.

It was after her 18th birthday that everything changed. She had nearly made it, finally turning 18. To this day, she remains uncertain whether it was fortunate or unfortunate. She couldn't decide if the Games would have been worse than being married off to Matthews. But she knew that after that birthday, everything was different. Each year thereafter was celebrated as another year of survival, never one of festivity.

Tommy was the catalyst for change. He always found excuses to celebrate Lucy and her life.

In their first year together, he gave her Sin, a kindred spirit who, like her, bore the scars of trauma, offering a depth of understanding that surpassed any human empathy. Sin provided a support she had never known, one she couldn't have imagined finding after the Games.

The following year, they escaped to the embrace of nature, accompanied by their horses—a sanctuary away from the harshness of Panem, the relentless demands of the Games, and the turmoil of rebellion. It was a day where two wounded souls found solace in each other's presence, sharing moments of sweetness and respite amidst the cruelty of their world.

And so, she began to anticipate April 29th, yearning to see the love and warmth in Tommy's eyes as he celebrated her first thing in the morning. It became a day where she could revel in some semblance of life—a safe haven they had created for each other amidst the chaos.

Happy birthday, Lucy! And thank you, Lauren, for creating this amazing character. I did my best to do justice to the wonderful person she is. I can't wait to read the story you've prepared for her :) Sending you the biggest of hugs on this special day <3 @emotionalcadaver

#lucy winters

[lunarubra]

Thank you so much, Flor! <3 I really wanted to do her justice; she is such a small bean to take care of our Lucy.

Thank you for reading and enjoying it! It means a lot :)

Lucy Winters Moodboard

Birthdays in Panem always weighed heavily on Lucy.

Her childhood bore this burden upon her shoulders as she counted down the years to her first reaping, akin to a condemned man awaiting execution. She watched her brothers risk being chosen as tribute, and then came her 12th birthday, where the true nightmare began.

Every passing year seemed to test her luck, each birthday marking another year of precarious freedom.

It was after her 18th birthday that everything changed. She had nearly made it, finally turning 18. To this day, she remains uncertain whether it was fortunate or unfortunate. She couldn't decide if the Games would have been worse than being married off to Matthews. But she knew that after that birthday, everything was different. Each year thereafter was celebrated as another year of survival, never one of festivity.

Tommy was the catalyst for change. He always found excuses to celebrate Lucy and her life.

In their first year together, he gave her Sin, a kindred spirit who, like her, bore the scars of trauma, offering a depth of understanding that surpassed any human empathy. Sin provided a support she had never known, one she couldn't have imagined finding after the Games.

The following year, they escaped to the embrace of nature, accompanied by their horses—a sanctuary away from the harshness of Panem, the relentless demands of the Games, and the turmoil of rebellion. It was a day where two wounded souls found solace in each other's presence, sharing moments of sweetness and respite amidst the cruelty of their world.

And so, she began to anticipate April 29th, yearning to see the love and warmth in Tommy's eyes as he celebrated her first thing in the morning. It became a day where she could revel in some semblance of life—a safe haven they had created for each other amidst the chaos.

Happy birthday, Lucy! And thank you, Lauren, for creating this amazing character. I did my best to do justice to the wonderful person she is. I can't wait to read the story you've prepared for her :) Sending you the biggest of hugs on this special day <3 @emotionalcadaver

#lucy winters #hunger games au

[lunarubra]

Okay, I'm always shocked by your moodboards, Laur. I still have so much to learn, my master Jedi. Please teach me the ways of the Force!

Like... I don't have the words. Compared to yours, mine look like something put together by a kid from the local kindergarten.

Anywho... Yeah, that's German, and it's the right translation. You are much better at it than my kiddos who have studied German for multiple years. I feel like my time would be spent much better trying to teach you than them xD

(and I am sure it's a misspell and I don't mean any harm, but I go by they/them pronouns <3)

Cyanide Love

You will get my cyanide love

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, ich habe nichts gesehen Ich habe nichts gehört, ich werde nicht reden

I know I'm running, but I'll get away, I'm like a ghost, I know you'll never find me I'll get you closer to my hide away, I'm like a ghost, and I'll arise behind you

Deep in the dark, that's when I make you pay, The fear of knowing, oh, it gets inside you These streets are mine, and this is where I reign, You look around, there's only hostile faces

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, ich habe nichts gesehen Ich habe nichts gehört, ich werde nicht reden

You'll take it, you'll break it, in seconds it will be done You'll bite it, can't fight it Your dead end, nowhere to run You turn around, you know you can't run away Sunflowers will be growing over your grave You'll take it, you'll face it The barrel of my smoking gun You will get my cyanide love

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, cyanide love Eins, zwei, drei, vier, cyanide love

Death and I look each other in the eye, We dance a while, and then we kiss goodbye I'll get you closer to my hide away, lead you astray I'm like a ghost, and I'll arise behind you

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, ich habe nichts gesehen Ich habe nichts gehört, ich werde nicht reden

You'll take it, you'll break it, in seconds it will be done You'll bite it, can't fight it Your dead end, nowhere to run You turn around, you know you can't run away Sunflowers will be growing over your grave You'll take it, you'll face it The barrel of my smoking gun You will get my cyanide love

Cyanide love Cyanide love Cyanide love You will get my cyanide love

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, ich habe nichts gesehen Ich habe nichts gehört, ich werde nicht reden

Cyanide love Cyanide love

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, ich habe nichts gesehen Ich habe nichts gehört, ich werde nicht reden

-Cyanide Love by Within Temptation

I feel like this song fits Lucy really well, so here's a little moodboard based around it!

Thank you for viewing! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Masterlists: Main • Series

#lauren <3 #flor <3 #peaky blinders #lucy winters x tommy shelby

[lunarubra]

OK. FUCK.

Damn. You. Fucking. Evert. but thank you for the money to let Rosie and Alfie be together; now please just kill yourself, you useless piece of shit

Let's just say I have no words for the quality of your writing and your ideas. How you develop Capitol society, the freedom you took with the sex auction, and how you set it up is just brilliant. Even how you made Evert a creepy pedophile fuck but at the same time an incredibly dumb idiot. It's scary how he really believes he is doing the right thing and how the Capitol society is brainwashed about the games. It's so dehumanizing and at the same time really describes a part of the society we live in today, I believe.

The part where Rose meets Alfie's rapist was so difficult for me. You really wrote it so well, and I empathize so much with your characters. It also broke my heart a little seeing Tommy sold like that. The post-games are really the worst torture Snow subjects the tributes to. And he is completely aware of it.

Lawrence, his friends, the old woman who paid for Alfie when he was a kid, the one who bought Tommy's freedom… those were the real winners of the games. Not the victors. And how Rose could feel different from them when she was doing the same?

This part summarizes so well what I was trying to say before.

Even if Rose shouldn't feel like that, I'm still not sure what she's plotting on the side, but I have complete trust in her. <3 I just want to hug them all. Gosh, poor babies. I'm also so sorry for the girl from District 2. Fuck.

Thank you for the end, I really needed their sweet reunion tonight. Rosie and Alfie are back together, you guys!!

This chapter was so good, Flor. The way you approached it, the complexity and the different layers you gave those intense topics, you're really writing a masterpiece, sweetheart. Also, thank you for giving us so many cameos from all these amazing characters. Thank you so much for sharing it with us <3

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 5

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Masterlist. Parts: One - Two - Three - Four

Summary: Seven months before the 65th games, Rose discovers the other side of the Games. A dark, corrupt and disgusting world. And yet, wherever she likes it or not, she's part of it because Snow wanted that. Because he's still in charge. || In his house back in district 9, Alfie thinks about the past and future. || Five years pass. Next stop the 71th Games, but before that something happens between him and her.

Warnings: Mentions of pedophilia, rape, sexual trafficking. A corrupted upper class. Snow is dick, but a very smart and manipulative one.

Words: 3.4k || Alfie x Rose Masterlist

The Capitol.

Rose looked at herself in the mirror. The beautiful green dress she was wearing was definitely a good choice for her first attendance at Snow's mansion. It was winter now, so she completed her attire with an expensive coat.

Last victor, the girl from district 2, was about to start her tour across Panem and in the Capitol the celebrations were about to start as well.

"You shouldn't go," Lawrence said entering the bedroom.

"I will. He's expecting me. Do you want to upset our president? Because I don't."

"No, of course not."

"Then move on."

"Rosebeth, I… I need to tell you something about those gatherings. There I -…"

"I know, Lawrence. You pay for having sex with victors. We haven't had sex in years, I assumed you were calming your urges somewhere else. Snow confirmed it to me."

"You're not upset." Lawrence seemed surprised.

"No. I feel nauseous looking at you. They're kids."

"They're gods and goddesses. They bet the death and they transformed themselves. They're not longer humans, Rosebeth, they're spiritual beings. And I'm not having sex with them, I'm giving them my soul."

"Through your cock?"

"It's a divine connection."

Rose wanted to puke. Her husband was always an idiot but hearing him now, it seemed he joined a cult that was making them believe those ridiculous ideas.

"I understand," she said covering herself with her coat "I'm going to do the same."

"Are you going to join us?"

God. The idea of her doing the same as him, made her feel sick, but looking at the situation from other perspective, she was doing exactly the same as him: she was paying for the company of a victor. Even if that victor was the love of her life. Rose didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to be part of it… but for Alfie, she was ready to do anything.

"Yes."

"Oh, Rosebeth! I never told you because I thought you'll be disgusted. But if you're one of us now…"

Rose understood that same moment that Lawrence Evert was a rich powerful man living in a parallel reality. He truly believed he wasn't raping minors, but giving them his soul. And that was dangerous. How many of them believed the same? Who was the one who started this cult? Because that was a cult. They grew up believing that was a normal behaviour and even if they knew it was wrong they were willing to keep doing the same.

"Yeah… I guess, so," it was the only thing she said.

She couldn't wait to tell Alfie about this new revelation.

"You can use as many money as you want, Rosebeth. For the victors we have to do anything."

She nodded. The whole situation, even for the persona she created, it was too much.

.

Men and women from the upper class were there. Rose knew some of them but others were the first time she saw them. They were talking and giggling, the canapes over the table were disappearing and new ones were arriving. The little glasses containing the beverage that provoked vomiting were all over the place, too. In a month, several of them will be there again for the arrival of the girl of district 2, this time as a victor. And today Rose was going to witness those who were ready to spend a night with her.

"You're doing this for you and Alfie," she repeated to herself once and once again.

Rose was staring out through one of the windows. The green gardens that Snow had were beautiful and the infinite white roses were illuminated by the moon. It was a beautiful garden in the domains of an awful person.

"You're new," an old woman that Rose didn't know, approached her. She was at least 65 years old, maybe more. Her makeup was extravagant and clearly she had several aesthetic surgeries.

"I am."

"Don't be nervous, Darling. We don't judge here. Did you see the catalogue? You can see their prices."

"No? I didn't know there was a catalogue" Rose said.

The old woman offered her something similar to a magazine with the Capitol's logo in the front page. When Rose opened it she saw in the first page the face of the last winner.

"The older they are, the cheaper they're, too" the woman said as Rose was examining the rest of the pictures "people here desire the youngest ones. Not all of them are lucky and not all the youngest are desirable."

Rose forced herself to smile "I prefer those who are a bit older than 18," she said.

"I used to have the same thoughts, sweetheart. But one day I decided to try something new and I never regret it! It was long time ago. But never until recent times, I could be with the lastest victor."

"That probably was… memorable."

"It really was!" The woman said and it sounded like she was proud if herself "young men can be really passionate."

'Kids' wanted to correct Rose, but she kept staring at the woman.

"…it was 11 years ago. The one who won the 53th edition: Alfie. Do you know him?"

Rose's heart stopped beating in that moment. Her hands held the catalogue with such strength that wrinkled one page but the woman didn't notice her reaction.

So that woman was his rapist. That fucker old woman who was talking to her like a friend. She didn't know the trauma she caused in Alfie, she didn't know about his nightmares, his distrust on people. One night Alfie confessed to her that it was her, Rose, the one who helped him to cope with his fears. Behind the mask of rude man, was a broken person. And that old woman there caused several damage on him.

"He's still young," the woman continued "he's not even 30 yet. But I'm not into it anymore. Yet , I love to come here and see my friends. And it's good to see new blood like yours following our steps."

Rose didn't answered. She excused herself and ran towards the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and finally all her sickness got out of her body. Kneeling in front of the toilet she was still trying to catch her breath. She was crying. Rose didn't know who were the kids that Lawrence touched, she didn't want to know but the revelation this woman gave to her, it was too much.

She was the one who hurt the man she loved. Her Alfie. Rose wanted to kill her for him. For what Alfie suffered. But his voice was in her head.

"Let it go, luv."

Rose got out, fixed her dress and hair and walked where the rest were.

They were already reunited at the main table waiting for the dinner. The seat in the head of the table was empty, waiting for the host. Snow wasn't there and probably it was the reason of why they weren't eating yet. Rose sat down next to her husband who was talking and laughing with a man around his age.

Snow appeared not long after she did and all of them stood up and clapped. Snow was smiling and he gave a brief speech for them. All the guests paid attention to him.

"May the odds be ever in your favour," he finished.

"May the odds be ever in your favour!" the rest, including Rose, replied. They raised their glasses and cheered.

The dinner was delicious. Lamb and several salads were served, along with fresh bread. Even when she wasn't hungry, she ate anyway.

Rose also could swear that Snow looked at her more than once, but she pretended to talk with another woman.

It was late at night when the dinner was over, including the desserts. Except Snow who disappeared, they all walked into a different room and Rose saw it was like a little theatre. A young woman gave her something similar to a remote control with a number on it. Hers was the 44. Rose imagined it was for a register.

The anthem of Panem was sounding in the background and it was a flag on the stage, next to a tall man.

Darius Armstrong was a man in his forties. He had a long blond braided hair and was wearing a white suit. Darius Armstrong was the auctioneer, he already had the hammer in his hand and was waiting the moment to start his job.

This time, Rose avoided her husband and most of all, she avoided Alfie's rapist. Part of her mind was still telling her that she was doing the same as the old woman even when it wasn't true. She choose a distant seat and waited.

"Welcome!!" Exclaimed Darius capturing the attention of those who were still talking. "A new year together. I'm full of happiness, aren't you? Once again our beloved president gave us a marvellous dinner and also offered us this place where we can see our incredible victors once again. And if we're lucky, we can join them in their greatness."

Except Rose, all of them cheered excitingly and started to clap.

"Do you want to start?" he asked and once again, the public shouted enthusiastically.

A 3D projection appeared on the stage. It was so realistic that for a moment Rose believed it was a real victor. It showed an old man from district 1, winner of the 9th Hunger games. His price started on 20 dollars. Of course no one wanted him.

Rose understood that it was their obligation to show all of the victors including those who weren't desirable. It was an actual auction… but with human beings.

"Renata Farrell!" exclaimed Darius several minutes later "our victor from district 8, 40th Hunger Games. Her initial price is ten thousand dollars."

The price difference between this woman and the poor old man was abysmal and they weren't even close to the newers victors. Fortunately for Renata, no one paid for her either.

From where she was sitting, she could see her husband talking with other two men. One of them said something that caused some smiles between them.

Alfie's turn was closer than ever before. By the time Darius announced the man who won the 50th games, her heart was beating that fast that she felt she was about to have a stroke. Then it was the turn from the women winning the 51th and 52th. A man offered fifty thousand dollars for the last one.

"The night had officially started!" Darius commented smiling after the first offer of the night "now we have our 53th victor, Alfred Solomons from District 9. His initial price is sixty thousand dollars."

There he was in front of her. Again, the projection was so real that Rose believed she could cross the hallway and could hug him. His grumpy expression, his beard. It was him but at the same time, he wasn't. Rose pressed the button.

"A new offer!!" Darius pointed with his hammer towards Rose "how much are you offering?"

"Seventy thousand."

"Seventy for him! Who offers eighty? Eighty thousand anyone? No? Seventy thousand… 1. 2. 3. "Alfred Solomons, sold to our highest bidder. You can gave us the money once this auction is over," Darius commented.

Sold. He said sold. Like a piece of furniture, like an object. Rose avoided to look at anyone. Everything it felt like she was doing something illegal.

Rose never talked to him, but the next one after Alfie was Thomas Shelby. Sixty-five thousand dollars was his initial price. And people seemed to be willing to pay for him, despite he wasn't one of the lastest winners anymore. The highest bidder paid a hundred thousand dollars for him. It was one of Evert's friends. Rose didn't want to think what kind of perverse mind he had. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the young man.

.

Back in district 9 Alfie Solomons was contemplating the night. It was cold and it was clear that winter was almost there.

He used to enjoy the winter. When he was a boy he used to play with other kids in the snow until his nose was red. His childhood wasn't that memorable but being an only child it helped to keep the things easy for his mother. He was feed every night and every night too she tucked him in bed. When he was 12, his name was only once in the bowl, he hadn't need to ask for any tessarae. Same as he was 13 and 14. But that was the last year of peace. His mother got sick so she couldn't work anymore. Alfie spent his days studying but also working in the wheat fields but it wasn't enough so he started to ask for food and also medicine. The boy who only had three papers in the bowl suddenly had 30. And it was 55 the next one. And it was over 80 when he was 17 and finally was reaped.

That was also the last year he enjoyed the winter. The Arena, the frozen forest, caused such trauma on him that he couldn't bear it anymore. The snow was synonymous with dead. Instead of the pristine white surface, he always saw snow covered in blood. And it was usually the blood of his victims. Seven deaths and one was so severely wounded by him that it could be eight but the Gamemakers blamed that death to the hypothermia. Alfie knew it wasn't the weather. But, officially were seven.

And eleven years later that didn't change. Alfie dreamed of a different place, maybe next to the sea. But that was an impossible dream. He was used to district 9, it was his home but… Alfie sighed and approached his chimney. He was lucky not many people had one and not many people could afford to buy logs for the fire.

Or maybe keep living in district 9, he thought drinking tea, but with Rose.

Over the table was the ridiculous toy she gave him months ago. Wheaty. Its goggly eyes seemed to be looking at him its blue hair reminding him to the blue dresses he saw her wearing in different occasions.

In a couple of weeks they're going to be reunited again. Not the best circumstances. She was paying for him after all, but it was a legal way to see each other more often.

And he couldn't complain about that.

Maybe her company could make the winter more bearable.

.

The girl from district 2, the lastest winner, was beautiful. Her dark brown hair falling over her shoulders and her blue eyes seemed to bright with mischievous.

The same girl who won the games by killing 3 other kids, including the one from her own district.

The last victor of the night. Her initial price was 250 thousand dollars. But they paid for her 800 thousand. Divided in four men. One of them was Lawrence Evert.

"They're Gods and Goddesses"

Rose remembered Lawrence's words and felt sick again. He was now 48 years old, the girl was 17. And Rose couldn't do anything to help her. Same she couldn't do anything to help Tommy Shelby or the victor from the previous year, or any other apart from Alfie. It was that impossibility of helping them from being raped that was destroying her mind. She and Alfie were about to be happy together, to enjoy the mutual company and the love they had for each other. But for the rest of the victors that was the beginning of a new nightmare.

No one deserved that. No one deserved to be used by other people.

The stage was empty now. Someone turned the lights on and she could see the rest of them. They were smiling, patting each other shoulders. Of course they were. The upper class were celebrating a new year as the real winners of the Hunger Games.

Lawrence, his friends, the old woman who paid for Alfie when he was a kid, the one who bought Tommy's freedom… those were the real winners of the games. Not the victors. And how Rose could feel different from them when she was doing the same?

Far away in district 8 once existed a girl who believed that the games were a fucked up form of entertainment. Now existed a woman who believed the same but realising that even when Snow was the head of Panem, the rest of them every single one present there, were the engine who helped the killing machine keep going.

Including her.

Her seventy thousand dollars probably were going to help to install a trap who could help to kill a tribute or two.

While she was going to be making love with Alfie, her money was going to be part of new crime disguise as show. A mother was going to grieve her child because of Rose.

And the saddest part of it was that if someone asked her if she wanted to pay another seventy thousand dollars to enjoy Alfie's company twice a month the answer was going to be affirmative.

Because it happened. When she approached a desk and officially paid for Alfie, the man behind the desk, offered her the option to spend even more time with him. And she accepted.

A kiss, a hug, his comfort… in exchange for a new murder next year.

Snow, not far away from there, looked at her. Of course he could see beyond the obvious. He wasn't stupid. That young woman never liked him as she tried to pretend. She wasn't like her brainless husband. There was a rebellious spark in her eyes. And Snow hated rebels.

But he didn't want to kill her like he did with Lucretia Gold, wife of Aberama Gold, years ago. Snow wanted to destroy her soul and rebel spirit. The best way he found was offering her the only thing that Mrs. Evert couldn't reject: true love. Alfred Solomons was the only valuable thing she had and Coriolanus Snow knew a thing or two about true love. And again, he was right.

The rebel spirit of Mrs. Evert corrupted by his own system. Snow knew that paying for Solomons and seeing what her husband and the rest of them were doing with the victors was too much for someone like her. And breaking people made him happy.

Snow won once again.

A month later, a peacekeeper knocked on a distant house. Rose had rented a house in a small private village of the Capitol. Surrounded by gardens and trees. Colourful flowers genetically modified to survive the cruelest winter decorated its surroundings. The peacekeeper arrived with Alfie who was handcuffed, probably to prevent a escape.

"That's not necessary," she said to the man.

"It's the protocol, ma'am," the guard said, finally freeing Alfie. "I'll be back Monday morning."

"Okay," she said letting Alfie in and closing the door on the other man's nose.

Alone, both of them looked at each other for a few seconds before kissing.

Six months without seeing each other. Less than the previous years and yet the longing was the same.

While they were already in bed, naked and moaning, the gamemakers were designing the new arena. A salt desert this time, dry and deathly. Her money helped them to make a suffocating pit. In six months, when a new edition start, she was going to see the girl from district 6 and the boys from 12 and 11 die there.

All in name of love.

And the years that followed this one, little and nothing changed. Rose kept paying for him and Alfie was 'forced' to go to the Capitol every time. Every year that passed, his price decreased. New and younger victors were occupying his place. But not for Rose.

The games only showed them that keeping his kids alive was impossible. No one survived.

The only thing changed was that their love increased.

It happened after the 70th games. They were alone when Alfie did the question and she laughed not believing him. But Alfie wasn't joking. Ten years ago they've met for the first time. Both were 33 now.

"It's symbolic, private and not legal at all but I love you, sweetheart."

And she nodded. Symbolic or not, she belonged to Alfie in a way she never belonged to Lawrence.

For the rest of humanity, she was Mrs. Evert… for the two of them, she was Mrs. Solomons.

#flor <3 #peaky blinder #hunger games au #alfie solomons x oc #alfie x rose

[lunarubra]

Laur, this is so good! 😍 And hot, damn girl...

I love the silent conversation Lucy and Tony have, just looking at each other. They really are two little demons. 😈 And John and Arthur forgetting about Lucy being there, as if they would behave better if they knew she was there 😂

It's always incredible how you always find the best chemistry between fluff and smut. I feel this part is so important as a transition for Lucy. Since she became Tommy's assistant, she's really started to piece together her trauma from Matthew and her father. This is another small piece that she can glue back. The force to explore her sexuality with Tommy, even after what happened to her, I find it so important. She is such a strong and resilient character., I love so much her growth <3

The smut part was amazing and hot! 🔥🔥🔥 But at the same time, also very sweet with Tommy always being so careful with Lucy, worrying at every step and ensuring she's always comfortable with what they're trying. Every chapter you add strengthens their connection, as they grow to accept each other at every step and become each other's rock. I love them so much.

Thank you for all this new content in the last few weeks! I'm sorry if I'm not as active as I want to be, but it's always a gift to be tagged in a new chapter <3

Part 3: Teach Me How

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy wants Tommy to teach her something.

Word Count: 3,620

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, specifically a blowjob and references to STIs.

Masterlists: Main • Series

Previous Part • Next Part

Lucy’s cheeks burned, lifting the newspaper she was reading to try to hide her blush as John and Arthur continued their rather graphic discussion. Beside her, Tommy’s shoe tapped lightly against her shin, his face containing a somewhat bemused–if also exasperated–expression. When he finally managed to catch her eye, he raised an eyebrow.

I think they’ve forgotten that I’m here, she thought to him with a blink. 

Nah, they just have no fucking filters once the whiskey takes hold, he said back silently. She snorted, turning her smirk back to the newspaper, trying to focus on puzzling out the answer to thirteen across on the crossword, and not on John and Arthur’s discussion about the most memorable blowjobs they’d received.

Her nose scrunched. She was no prude, but she also very much did not need the mental image of either of her lover’s brothers fucking some prostitute’s mouth, thank you very much. 

“Right, I think that’s enough of that talk from both of you, eh?” Tommy finally interrupted, based on the look on his face, she suspected that the mental images were getting to be a bit much for him, too. 

Thank you, she mouthed to him from behind the newspaper. The toe of his shoe, still resting against her shin, rubbed up and down. 

“Aw, c’mon Tom. ‘S just a little fun…” John pouted. “No harm meant,” he leaned forward, eyes glimmering. “Why don’t you tell us about that pretty French waitress again…”

Tommy stiffened beside her. Lucy felt her throat go a little dry. She knew that Tommy was more experienced than her. Obviously he was. Generally it didn’t bother her. 

Didn’t mean that she wanted all the details of his sexual past waved around her face, though. 

Oblivious, John continued to ramble. “You said that she did this thing with her tongue that–”

“John,” Tommy barked with a bit more firmness in his voice. “I said that’s enough.”

John’s eyes widened a fraction, leaning back with his hands raised. “Shit, fine, Jesus. Sorry. I thought it was a fun memory.”

“Only fucking fun until she gave me the fucking clap,” Tommy grumbled. Lucy’s eyebrows shot up at that revelation, biting her lip to hold a laugh in.

Arthur snickered, and Tommy shot him a withering glare. Lucy nudged Tommy’s leg with her shoe to get his attention, before an argument could break out.

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

Tommy nodded, sitting up to scoop up his cigarette case and lighter where they were sitting on the table. “I’ll walk you.”

“Thanks,” folding up the newspaper and tossing it back onto the table, she stood to tug on her coat. 

“Ah, shit,” Arthur mumbled. “Sorry, Luce, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s the fucking whiskey, you know…”

“I know; it’s alright,” she said, closing the buttons on her coat. “I think you offended Tommy’s delicate constitution more than mine.” 

“Oi!” Tommy protested. She grinned at him cheekily, unable to help herself. 

John choked, snorting on his pint, beer squirting out of his nose. Arthur cackled. Tommy shook his head, exasperated. 

“This is what I get for being fucking nice, eh? C’mon, cheeky mare,” he opened the door to the snug for her, and she waved goodbye to the brothers, stepping out into the main part of the pub, pulling on her gloves while they headed out the main doors and into the brisk evening air. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Tommy sighed as they began the walk back to her flat. 

“It’s alright,” she shot him a mischievous look. “I didn’t know you had the clap.”

He groaned, looking like he was silently cursing John. “It was just a minor infection,” he shot her a semi-panicked look. “I’m clean now, don’t worry. The army doctor put me on some antibiotics and it cleared right up.”

Taking his hand, she kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

He shrugged noncommittally, and squeezed her hand. “Caught it before it had a chance to get too serious.” 

She smiled at him, inching a little closer to his side. He was a steady source of warmth in the otherwise chilly night air. 

But as they walked, an image intruded her mind: Tommy, with his head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth agape with pleasure, while kneeled before him, a beautiful French woman sucked his cock down her throat. 

She tried to shake the image away, but it persisted, making her heart twist.

She meant it, when she said that Tommy’s past didn’t bother her. But still. Sometimes she worried. He had been incredibly, wonderfully patient and sweet with her as they eased into the beginnings of their relationship and regularly having sex. Never pushing or pressuring. Letting her decide what she was and wasn’t comfortable with trying. 

And yet there were times when she still was concerned that she wouldn’t be able to fully satisfy him.

Deep down, she knew that she was being ridiculous. But she couldn’t fully silence that pesky little part of her brain that doubted. 

Pulling out her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the door to her flat and held it open to him, stepping in after he was inside and shutting the door behind her, clicking the multiple locks into place. 

Tommy shot her a quizzical look as she started to shed her coat. “You sure you’re okay? You’re quiet.”

Finished hanging her coat on the hook by the door, she turned to look at him, standing there in the middle of her tiny living room, hands in his pockets and head cocked to the side slightly, blue eyes wide with building worry. She bit her lip, the beginnings of an idea having taken root in her mind. Nerves jumped to life in her chest.

The vision of him with the French waitress sprung back into her mind. This time, arousal and possessiveness stirred in her lower stomach in response. 

She wanted to be the cause for Tommy’s face contorting in ecstasy like that. Making him growl and moan and scramble to cling to his self control. Completely at her mercy despite her being the one on her knees.    

And perhaps there was a little possessive part of her that wanted to prove that she could be just as good as those who’d come before her. 

“What–” Tommy started to ask, but she was already striding with purposeful steps across the room, hands raising to cup his face and pull his mouth in to press onto hers. He caught her against him, lips parting to hers automatically, a low groan rumbling from his chest at the first stroke of her tongue against his.   

She kissed him hard, fingers sneaking under the lapels of his coat, feeling the firm, warm muscles in his strong chest jump in response to her touch. His coat went falling to the floor with a clatter.

“Mm,” one of Tommy’s thick palms cupped the back of her head, the other landing on her waist. A soft chuckle rumbled under her palms as he let her begin to walk him backwards towards the bedroom. Garments of clothing were steadily shed as they went, waistcoats and shirts cast to the ground and belts loosened.

With a deep purr, Tommy pulled his head back, still close enough that his nose bumped against hers, lips quirking.

“Lucy, what…” he started to ask in tender bemusement. 

“I want to suck your cock,” she whispered, breaths fanning out against his lips, cheeks flushing at the confession. 

His eyes widened, pulling back a little, both hands landing on her hips. But she saw the way his eyes dilated at the suggestion.  

“Wha…you want…you’re…” he stuttered, and she bit her lip to keep from giggling at seeing Tommy Shelby, usually so posed and eloquent, flustered. His hands flexed on her hips, one letting go to brush her cheek, tilting her face to look fully into his earnest eyes. 

“You don��t have to,” he husked, thumb petting her lower lip. “Really, I mean it. Don’t feel like you have to just because John and Arthur are idiots. It’s alright.”

She pressed herself a little closer to him, the hand he had on her hip curling around to rest warmly on the small of her back. “I want to…” angling her head up, she caught his mouth with hers in another quick kiss. “I want to try…”

His thumb rolled circles into the base of her spine, wide eyes still examining her carefully, as if searching for any sign that she didn’t really mean it. “Are you sure…?”

A smile pulled at her cheeks at how concerned he was that she really was alright with it. “Yes, love, I’m sure,” when he continued to stare into her face investigatively, her confidence waned a little, cocking her head and frowning. “Do you…not want me to…?” she started to pull back, feeling her face grow hotter with embarrassment. But Tommy caught her by the sides before she could get all that far. 

“Now, hold on a second, I didn’t say that…” his cheeks stretched wide with his reassuring smile, pulling her closer. “I just wanna make sure that you’re sure you want to.”

“I am sure,” she insisted. “I want to make you feel good.”

His brows knitted, confused. “You already do, love.”

She wetted her lips. “That’s not what I mean, exactly, I just…” she looked down, not quite sure how to put what she was feeling into words. “I want to do this for you.”

He brushed some hair out of her face, cupping her cheek, eyes still searching her face. Finally, his expression relaxed. “Alright then.”

With a breathless little smile, she angled her head to kiss him again. He welcomed her enthusiastically, head tilting to deepen the kiss, fringe tickling her. When he pulled back, it was to press firm kisses to her throat and shoulder, nuzzling. Another rush of nerves, but also excitement, washed over her. 

She groped along his naked torso, running her thumbs through the divots in his stomach created by his abs, tracing the v of his hips. There was an audible thunk as he worked her belt loose, undoing the fastenings on her trousers and dropping them to the floor. Standing there before him in just her bra and knickers, she squished in closer to him, aching to feel their bare skin sliding against one another. 

His moan vibrated into the crook of her shoulder when she cupped his growing bulge in his trousers, palming him through the expensive material. His hips twitched eagerly towards her hand, seeking more.     

With a hum, she set to work undoing his belt and dropping his trousers to join hers on the floor, underwear right behind them. He groaned, back arching a little, when her hand wrapped around his exposed cock, pumping rhythmically and smearing the precum gathered at the tip with her thumb.

Their noses bumped as he raised his head to look at her, and another set of nerves erupted in her stomach. He must have seen it in her face, because he leaned back a little, caressing her cheek.

“Okay?”

She nodded. “Nervous.”

His eyes softened. “Don’t be. It’s just me.”

She took a deep breath, nodding, reminding herself that there was nowhere else in the world where she was safer. Trying new things wasn’t so scary when it was with him. He was always gentle, always checking in on her to make sure she was doing alright. And he always stopped when she asked him to.  

“You’ll have to tell me what to do,” she whispered.

“‘Course,” he was still stroking her cheek, breath catching in his chest when she added a little twist to her strokes along his cock. She nosed into his throat, breathing in the scent of his cologne and cigarettes. “Not all that much to it, really. Just…put as much of it in your mouth as you're comfortable with. Suck. Bob your head. Try not to bite me.”

She snorted at the last bit, nipping his bottom lip in retaliation. “How fast?”

“I like it slow.”

She nodded. That tracked. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t try to fit it all in. I don’t want to hurt or choke you. Just use your fist on what doesn’t fit.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll warn you when I get close to coming.”

She cast him a thankful look. “Right.”

He smiled at her tenderly and kissed her again, forehead laying on hers even after they parted. She shivered a little with nerves, and he gave her a squeeze.

“It’s okay. It’s just you and me. I’ll help you if you need it. We stop whenever you say.”

She took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

His breath stuttered in an adoring chuckle. “I won’t. Promise,” leaning his face back, his hands coaxed her to look at him. “C’mere,” he pulled her into another deep kiss, purring against her lips and petting her hair. After their lips parted, she was struck with how aroused he suddenly looked, eyes glazed over and pupils blown, lips parted and breathing heavily. “Alright,” he breathed out. “Just, erm, just start slow, eh?”

She wasn’t sure if that was more a suggestion for her benefit or his, but she nodded all the same, pecking him one last time before beginning her slow descent down his body, placing kisses along his chest and down his stomach. He sighed softly, hands caressing her shoulders as she made her way down, smirking to herself when she pressed kisses down his happy trail.

And then she was on her knees, face to face with his swollen cock.

His fingers threaded carefully into her hair, thumb under her chin angling her to tilt her head up. She swallowed roughly.

“You can stop whenever you want,” he rasped out. “Pinch my thigh if you need me to pull back.”

She nodded, thankful for the option of an out since she would not exactly have full capability of speech soon. “I will.” 

“Alright,” his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Gulping, her tongue darted out to wet her lips, eyes flicking down to his cock, red and throbbing, a white pearl of precum oozing from the tip. With delicate touches, she trailed her fingers up his thighs and he shivered. Her heart was pounding loud in her ears. 

She decided to start simple, wrapping her fingers gingerly around his erection. Tommy made a small sound, palm spaying out across the top of her head. She peeked up at him curiously. His lashes were lowered, chest heaving up and down with deep breaths. It took a moment for him to seemingly realize the suggestion his hand placement carried, and when he did his eyes widened. 

“Shit, sorry, is this okay? I promise I’m not going to try to hold you down. I just…”

“It’s okay,” she assured, leaning in to press a small kiss to his hip. Truth be told, it helped ease her nerves a little to have him touching her somewhere. He shuddered, thumb affectionately stroking the crown of her head.

Her next kiss was laid on the tip of his cock, and the sound he made in response did truly fantastic things for her ego, confidence boosting enough for her to give the head a small, shallow suck.  

“Fuckkkkkk…” he groaned out, the sound sending a thrum between her legs. Releasing the head with a small pop, she peered up at him nervously. He was still watching her with lowered eyelids, face a little flushed. “That’s good; you’re doing good,” he purred, and she felt herself grow bashful at the praise, ducking her head.

Encouraged, she took a little more of him into her mouth on her next movement down. Even with not even half of him in her mouth, his girth stretched her jaw wide. She knew that there was no possibility that she would be able to fit all of him. She held him there for a moment, getting acquainted with the sensation of having him inside her mouth, the weight and taste of him on her tongue…       

Tommy suddenly winced. “Easy…easy on the teeth, love.”

She quickly pulled off of him. “Sorry.”

He shook his head to let her know the apology wasn’t necessary. Keeping her movements slow, mindful of her teeth this time, she slipped even more of him into her mouth, adjusting her hand to wrap around the base of his cock to cover what she couldn’t fit. The tip of him hit the back of her throat, and she had to back off a little when she accidentally gagged slightly on him.   

“Try…try breathing out when you go down…” Tommy’s voice was strained as he offered the advice. Lucy did as he suggested, and was able to get him a little further down. She hummed around him, and Tommy moaned loudly. 

“Ohhhh….fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry if this is very quick.”

She couldn’t entirely stifle her giggle around him, receiving a little hiss of pleasure in response.

Keeping her eyes on him, still moving slowly until she got the hang of it, she started to bob her head. Tommy groaned deeply, fingers tightening a little in her hair. Not pulling on the strands or pushing her down, just holding on more firmly, helping with subtle little movements to guide her. 

The thick weight of him on her tongue was borderline addicting, the warmth and throbbing causing her to rub her thighs together, core aching. Her eyes watered a little, stretched-wide jaw beginning to ache, but she kept going. The sounds he was making provided more than enough encouragement; deep growls and low groans that all went straight to her cunt, causing her to clench hard around nothing.  

“God, that’s good…” he moaned, and when she looked up, she was met with the very expression she’d been hoping to see on him: head thrown back with his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted to let his sounds of pleasure emit freely throughout the room.

She kept up the pace of her bobs, cautiously using the hand not wrapped around the base of his large cock to cup his balls. He made a strangled noise at that, erection twitching.

“Lucy…Lucy, love, fuck, just like that,” his brow was furrowed, eyes opening only to roll a little in his head when she swirled her tongue around his tip, lapping up the precum oozing there before taking him down again, this time deeper than before. Tommy made a whimpering noise that she’d never heard admitted from him before, suddenly pushing weakly on her shoulder in warning. 

“I’m going to come,” he grunted. Lucy hummed in approval, not backing off but instead doubling her efforts, determined to finish strong.   

With a twitch and a hoarse cry, he came into her mouth heavily. She took what he had to offer eagerly, curiously holding it in her mouth before swallowing it down. Tommy cursed when he felt the flex of her throat gulping around him, body tensing with the final waves of his orgasm.

When he was done, she released his softening member from her mouth, cleaning him with tender little kitten licks. The hand still pressed to her head stroked her hair languidly, coaxing her to look up into his face. 

He looked a little dazed, features glazed over and relaxed in post-orgasm bliss, blinks slow as he still came down to earth a little. 

“C’mere,” he tugged on her arm gently, helping her to her feet. Grinning to herself with pride, Lucy planted both hands on chest, leaning in to kiss him but then hesitating, pulling back in case he didn’t want to kiss her after she’d just had his load in her mouth not but a few minutes prior. 

But Tommy’s hand caught her by the back of the head before she could get very far, pulling her in close to crash his mouth onto hers in a lazy, passionate kiss that made her stomach do a little flip. When he pulled back, a thin line of saliva still connecting their mouths, she smiled at him sheepishly. Both of his hands were on her rosy cheeks, thumbs petting her cheekbones. 

“Was it good?” she asked, voice soft and nervous. Tommy’s brows lifted. 

“Was it…? Love, that was far better than just ‘good,’” he kissed her again, quickly, and she giggled bashfully. His eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re sure you hadn’t done that before?”

“Stop it…” she mumbled with half a laugh, thoroughly flustered. Tommy just chuckled and pecked her again. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” he praised, wrapping her up in his arms. She wriggled happily against his chest, the compliments blooming warmly in her chest. “I wasn’t expecting you to swallow.”

She looked up at him in sudden alarm. “Not good?”

She was met with a semi-baffled look. “No, no, love–very good,” his thumb rubbed her cheek. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you.”

Her hands rested on his forearms, beaming up at him. “I love you too.”

She was squeezed back against his warm muscle with a purr, fingers carding through her hair. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did.”

His lips brushed the top of her head. “Good,” his warm palms slid along her skin–flushed from both his praise and still simmering arousal–eventually coming to rest on her hips. 

She shrieked as she was suddenly scooped up, spun around, and deposited with a little bounce onto the bed. Tommy crawled half on top of her, grinning wolfishly as his fingers hooked into her knickers. Her walls squeezed at the deep growled out words he rumbled before descending upon her:

“My turn.”

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series

#lauren <3 #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters x tommy shelby #peaky blinders

[lunarubra]

15 Questions for 15 Friends

Thank you for the tag, @peakyswritings and @emotionalcadaver <3

Are you named after anyone?

Nope, please.

When was the last time you cried?

Last week, for sure...

Do you have kids?

Nope, never, no thanks.

What sports do you play /have you played?

I go swimming quite regularly. I also try to do yoga at least every two days, and when the weather permits, I go climbing. In winter, a lot of cross-country skiing.

Do you use sarcasm?

Like the air that I breathe.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

Damn, I'm so bad at that. New people all look the same to me, and it takes me ages to distinguish them. The same goes for new names.

What's your eye color?

Grey

Scary movies or happy endings?

I found the scary movie boring, so even though it's not something I typically seek out, I would go with happy endings

Any talents?

Quite geeky, I will always find a way to crack things online

Where were you born?

Italy

What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, nerding, enjoying the mountains and the woods, climbing, swimming, sunbathing.

Do you have any pets?

Yup, just adopted a smol bean kitten, named her Lucy. She's quite in character too. At only 4 months old, she's the neighbourhood's lizard serial killer.

How tall are you?

170cm

Favorite subject in school?

Maths and IT

Dream job?

Anything linked to theatre

No pressure tags: @justrainandcoffee, @call-sign-shark, @lackofsurprise, @cillmequick, @metamorphesque, @evita-shelby, @moral-terpitude, and everyone that wants to interact :)

#tag game

[lunarubra]

Dog shit is too pure and fancy for someone like Evert

In one of my film classes last semester we had to tell a story in 3 pictures for a mini assignment so my friend and I did this

[lunarubra]

Lucy Winters Moodboard

Birthdays in Panem always weighed heavily on Lucy.

Her childhood bore this burden upon her shoulders as she counted down the years to her first reaping, akin to a condemned man awaiting execution. She watched her brothers risk being chosen as tribute, and then came her 12th birthday, where the true nightmare began.

Every passing year seemed to test her luck, each birthday marking another year of precarious freedom.

It was after her 18th birthday that everything changed. She had nearly made it, finally turning 18. To this day, she remains uncertain whether it was fortunate or unfortunate. She couldn't decide if the Games would have been worse than being married off to Matthews. But she knew that after that birthday, everything was different. Each year thereafter was celebrated as another year of survival, never one of festivity.

Tommy was the catalyst for change. He always found excuses to celebrate Lucy and her life.

In their first year together, he gave her Sin, a kindred spirit who, like her, bore the scars of trauma, offering a depth of understanding that surpassed any human empathy. Sin provided a support she had never known, one she couldn't have imagined finding after the Games.

The following year, they escaped to the embrace of nature, accompanied by their horses—a sanctuary away from the harshness of Panem, the relentless demands of the Games, and the turmoil of rebellion. It was a day where two wounded souls found solace in each other's presence, sharing moments of sweetness and respite amidst the cruelty of their world.

And so, she began to anticipate April 29th, yearning to see the love and warmth in Tommy's eyes as he celebrated her first thing in the morning. It became a day where she could revel in some semblance of life—a safe haven they had created for each other amidst the chaos.

Happy birthday, Lucy! And thank you, Lauren, for creating this amazing character. I did my best to do justice to the wonderful person she is. I can't wait to read the story you've prepared for her :) Sending you the biggest of hugs on this special day <3 @emotionalcadaver

#lucy winters #hunger games au #lucy's birthday

[lunarubra]

Cillian Murphy’s Bedtime Routine

By Wendi Aarons and Johanna Gohmann.

5 p.m.

Call ’round to the pub and dine on a hearty meal of potatoes, bangers, and the knowledge that you are Christopher Nolan’s favorite.

6 p.m.

Return home to stand before the hearth and mournfully play Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?” on the panpipes.

6:10 p.m.

Whisper, “I was made to bring my ethereal talent to the mortal world.”

6:30 p.m.

Try on various peaked caps whilst drinking bathtub gin. Select a cap for the evening’s bath, throwing others back into the peaked-cap room. Add Guinness glitter bath bomb to gin. Soak.

7 p.m.

Slip into a floor-length dressing gown made by Colin Farrell’s nana—because only real men can pull off antique lace.

7:05 p.m.

Carefully polish both magnificently chiselled cheekbones with separate sticks of Kerrygold butter (unsalted).

7:15 p.m.

Exfoliate. Stare into the mirror and solemnly declare, “Now I am become Dewy, destroyer of premature wrinkling.”

7:30 p.m.

Mainline an entire bottle of Visine into left eye in order to maintain its dazzling azure hue. Repeat with right eye.

8 p.m.

Work on rap song by alter-ego Chillian Murf Dawg. After crafting multiple sick rhymes about Barry Keoghan’s junk, summon wee faeries to mop brow with silken kerchief.

8:20 p.m.

Text Paul Mescal a gif of Bradley Cooper looking sad, with caption “LOL.”

8:25 p.m.

Scour the Internet for any entertainment journalist who refers to you as “magically delicious.” Have them swatted.

9 p.m.

Make gentle but furious love to the ghost of Molly Malone.

10 p.m.

Throw open the shutters and shout, “I am the Father of the atomic bomb!” But in Gaelic.

10:01 p.m.

Climb into four-poster canopy bed and watch “CSI: Miami” on phone to drown out the wail of the banshee.

11 p.m.

Drift into the kind of deep, peaceful slumber that only comes when one rests one’s head in the thirty-two counties.

Article can be found here.

#this killed me🤣 #'mournfully play Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?” on the panpipes' come ooooooon 🙈🤣 #cillian murphy #cillian interview

[lunarubra]

Jeremy Miranda (American,b. 1980)

Tide Pool

Acrylic on panel

#shadows of the sea #setting research #aesthetic

[lunarubra]

Sooo... I wanted to wait to post it next week, but I feel it's going to be even crazier and busier at work in the coming days. As I mentioned in a previous post, the next few months are going to be really hectic for me, so updates could be even more delayed. But I am not abandoning my babies, don't worry. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it. If you can, leave a comment letting me know what you think. It's the first time I've written smut for a straight couple, so I am a little worried of how this is gonna feel. Thanks a ton to @cillmequick and @emotionalcadaver for beta-reading this chapter and being the best mutuals <3

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: The morning after, with a surprise visit, and maybe finally, those two idiots are going to talk about what they are feeling. It took them only 25k+ words, sooo. Yeah, I'm aware that as the writer, I should be in control of what they do, but spoiler alert: I am not. They are in control.

Warning: English not my First Language, Mention of Panic Attack, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Star Wars Spoilers.

Words: 5439

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Part 7 - Swell of Renewal

The first light of dawn gently illuminated Cillian's eyes, rousing him from sleep. Reluctant to open them fully, he savoured the comforting sensation of that fleeting moment between slumber and wakefulness. Gradually, he became aware of the sensations enveloping him. He was laying on his side, with a warm body pressed against his chest, nestled between him and the couch's backrest. His face was buried in soft hair that carried the scent of sea and spices. Before fully registering his surroundings, he snuggled closer, relishing the embrace.

A sudden noise from the front door jolted Cillian awake, causing him to open his eyes and discover Jiyan nestled against his chest. It took a moment for him to recall why he was on the couch and why Jiyan was there beside him. He admired her peaceful form for a few seconds, noting the deepness of her sleep, likely a result of the exhaustion from the previous night. Another knock echoed at the front door, diverting Cillian's attention from the woman beside him, while she remained completely oblivious to the noises, undisturbed and lost in her tranquil slumber.

With gentle care, Cillian untangled himself from their embrace, draping a blanket over Jiyan as he had done the night before, before falling asleep. Since her panic attack and her subsequent openness about what had transpired, neither had questioned the shift in their relationship—they naturally gravitated towards holding and comforting each other. Falling asleep together seemed like the right next step after the emotionally draining evening they had experienced; it was a simple and comforting way to support each other. Even considering leaving Jiyan alone after such a night was unimaginable to him.

Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, he shuffled to the door, muttering under his breath about whoever had the audacity to disturb so early in the morning.

Peering through the door's peephole, he immediately recognized his sister's figure, and a shock of cold realisation shot through him, fully waking him up. Damn, he had completely forgotten about their plans for this morning.

As he opened the door, attempting to offer an apology, his sister launched into a scolding tirade, oblivious to his efforts to quiet her down. The living room wasn’t far, and even though Jiyan seemed to be a deep sleeper, he doubted she would stay asleep for long with his sister's loud reprimands.

"You were still asleep?! Cillian, I told you we needed to buy Sile’s present this morning. With me covering for a colleague this week, I'm swamped, and we agreed to do it today!"

"Orla, morning… I know, I'm sorry, very. I'll find Sile's present on my own later, just please lower your voice," Cillian pleaded.

"Lower my voice?! This is the third time you've postponed it. Her birthday is next week! You were busy with work the past few weeks, but now what? You just forgot? And why do you look so tired? Were you out yesterday night—" Orla paused, her gaze shifting past him.

 Turning around, Cillian saw Jiyan standing there, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly too big for her, giving his sister ammo about a crazy night spent the night before, where she spent the night here and now she was wearing his clothes. 

Jiyan appeared still a bit sleepy and somewhat taken aback to find someone else in the house. "Um, hi, sorry, I heard voices and—" Jiyan trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a hint of concern about the situation she had walked into.

"Really, Cilian? Really?" Orla interrupted, looking annoyed with her brother.

"Orla, it's not..." Cilian began, then he shook his head, hoping to dispel any misunderstanding that he had spent the night drinking and picking up random women at the pub. 

He turned to Jiyan, hoping to clarify everything; this was not the morning he had imagined.

"Jiyan, this is my sister, Orla. I forgot we had to buy a present for our youngest sister this morning, and she's giving me an earful. Orla, this is Jiyan, my... This is Jiyan," he concluded a bit awkwardly, turning back to his sister.

"Jiyan?" Orla repeated, making the connection, and sounding placated for the moment, with a hint of sisterly curiosity. "Oh... I'm sorry, I must seem like a crazy sister, but this one," she gestured towards Cillian, "is the most unorganised person I've ever met. I'm Orla, nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand to Jiyan.

"Nice to meet you too," Jiyan replied, still feeling a bit uncertain about the situation. "I can go if you need to go out, it's really no problem-"

"No!" Cilian exclaimed a bit too forcefully, cutting her off before his sister could intervene and convince Jiyan to leave. "Orla was just leaving. I'll buy something later this week, and everything will be alright, right Orla?" he asked, looking at his sister.

Orla glanced between them a couple of times, as if watching a ping pong match, before finally settling her gaze on her brother's determined expression, realising there was no way she could win this battle and following their planned morning.

"Sure," she confirmed, though with a hint of warning. "But if you forget like Mum's birthday last year-"

"It was two years ago!" he defended himself.

"I don't care," she told him firmly. "I have to go now. Jiyan, it was a pleasure to finally put a face to your name. Cillian couldn’t stop talking about you during Paddy's -"

"Yes!" Cillian said, raising his voice, cutting off his sister to comment further. "Orla, I think it’s time. You really should go," he interjected, gently nudging his sister towards the door and subtly hinting for her to leave, hoping to salvage some of the dignity he had left.

His sister finally composed herself and exited, bidding her goodbyes to Jiyan, but not without one last firm reminder to her brother.

After closing the door behind his departing sister and exhaling a held breath, Cillian turned back to Jiyan, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My sister can be a bit... persistent. I completely forgot that we had to meet this morning."

Jiyan glanced at the floor, uncertainty clouding her expression. After all that had been said the previous night, she was still shocked by what had transpired and perhaps a little ashamed of her own reactions. "I can really go, if you-"

"I don’t want you to go," he said, cutting her off.

They stood in the hallway entrance, bathed in natural sunlight from the living room, casting a deep ambiance around them. As he looked at Jiyan, he soon forgot about his sister's impromptu visit. The tension he had felt multiple times in the past months was coming alive that morning, making his hair on both his arms feel energised, as if pure electric energy was coursing through him.

"Cillian… I…" Jiyan started to say.

"Can I say something?" he interjected, his voice trembling a little with emotion, starting to feel his heart beating faster. "I know it's only been a couple of months since we met, but the more time I spend with you, Jiyan, the more connected I feel. It's like I've known you for decades, like I can understand what you're feeling and thinking.

He paused briefly before continuing, his words pouring out in a rush. "Yesterday night... Yesterday night, it was draining and exhausting for you, and I understand if you feel like you've exposed yourself to more hurt, or if you think you've shown a vulnerable side of yourself. But I see you, Jiyan. I think I really see someone for the first time, and what I see is beautiful. You have nothing to apologise for or feel ashamed of that happened yesterday. Nothing."

For a long moment, she just looked at him. Looked at that sensitive, generous, humble, handsome man who had offered refuge to her last night, after one of the worst panic attacks she had ever experienced. Who has listened and supported her, making her feel for the first time not alone in what she was going through. She could see in him someone with whom she didn’t have to hide - not her feelings, not her emotions, not her past or insecurities.

"I think... I think I also see you," she said, walking closer to him until their chests were almost touching, locking her gaze with his deep blue eyes that reminded her so much of the sea.

As her heartbeat quickened, but not like the night before, she didn't feel panic this time; she felt alive, a tingling sensation coursing through every part of her body.

Cillian didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently cupped her face with one hand, his eyes speaking volumes, like she could read the myriad shades of the ocean within them. His breathing changed too, influenced by their proximity and her presence.

She wasn't sure who moved first or who initiated the first contact. All she knew was that the first touch felt like finally coming home again. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, craving to deepen the connection and feel more of him. Their initial tentative kiss quickly turned passionate, almost desperate, as if they feared the other would vanish in the next moment.

His hands found their place on her waist, slipping under her hoodie and eliciting a groan from deep within his chest as he felt her warm skin, his thumbs tracing circles on her taut abdomen.

She lightly nibbled on his lower lip, drawing another deep groan from him, before resting her forehead against his, breathing him in, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"Ok, wow," she said, opening her eyes again and gazing into his.

"Yeah," he agreed, his arms holding her close to him, not wanting to let her go. She held his cheek, breathing him in, closing her eyes and relaxing into their embrace. If their first kiss had quickly turned passionate, the second time their lips met, she wanted to convey all the different feelings she had, feeling connected to him, letting herself go, and trusting him to accept her.

She let out a high-pitched moan when he responded, exploring her mouth with his tongue, wanting her to feel as much as he was feeling in that moment, wanting to deepen it and at the same time just enjoy their exchange that made him feel like he was walking on the moon.

She also wanted to feel more of him, holding one of her hands on his heart, feeling his chest expand and his heart beating frantically. She then started kissing his jaw and snuggled into his neck, softly biting the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Jiyan," he warned, closing his eyes to catch his breath again and gain some sort of control over his body.

She made an innocuous sound, then repeated her action, eliciting another deep groan from him. He moved his arm from under the hoodie she was wearing to cup her cheeks.

"You are a tease," he said softly, planting a soft peck on her lips again.

“Who says I am teasing?” she retorted, joy bubbling up from her chest as her hands ran through his hair.

“Come on, you need some food in you after yesterday, before we do anything that requires more effort.”

“Ah, so it’s an effort for you, Murphy?” she teased him, “Didn’t think you were this old,” she said, sliding her fingers into his as she followed him to the kitchen, settling on one of the kitchen stools.

He ignored her last comment with a smile, opening the fridge and inspecting its sad remains.

“I have some toast, cheese, and eggs, but I know you don’t eat those. There’s a lemon and a very questionable package of mushrooms.”

"Urgh," she made a disappointed moan.

“I know, sorry. I just got back yesterday and haven’t had a chance to go to the big shop yet.”

“Do you have some canned chickpeas? Or canned beans?” she asked.

“Maybe, I can check the pantry.”

After she gathered some canned chickpeas and quickly made some hummus to eat with toast, he prepared some scrambled eggs with toast and cheese.

“I should really bring you a package of real tea here and teach you how to make chai,” she said as they sat facing each other, their knees touching, and his left hand resting on her thigh. Since the night before, where he had held and comforted her, it was like both of them couldn't stop touching each other, almost like they always needed some kind of physical connection.

“Please feel free to bring as much chai as you want and teach me that wizardry that you Kurds call tea. You knew I would become a complete addict to that.”

“Yup, that's our evil plan for Kurdistan liberation, making white people fall in love with our chai so they would finally stop persecuting us.”

“See, I always knew you had a second motive,” he joked.

After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"I know you said you didn’t want me to apologise, so I won’t," she said, resting her hand over his on her leg. "But thank you for taking care of me yesterday, for your patience, and for listening to me. I don’t think I've ever told anyone all of that before."

"I will always want to listen to you and be there for you, I think," he said sincerely. "I know we both said we weren’t looking for something beyond friendship, Jiyan, but I don’t think..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "During the past few weeks, while I was working in Galway, I tried to detach myself from you and think about it objectively. I wanted to see if it was just like my other past relationships, where I could lose myself in work and disappear. And I could, partly. I think acting will always be liberating for me because I can stop being myself for some time. But when I stopped and was back to being Cillian, I wanted to share it all with you. I’m not sure how it will all go, but I want to try to have this deep connection that I feel with you, Jiyan. Because for the first time, I feel I can be more than just a good actor, a decent brother, or someone who makes my family proud."

She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, just staring at their interlined fingers, playing with them.

"During these weeks, when you weren’t here, I also had time to think. I think that’s also why yesterday I had that reaction. Newroz was the first time where I talked again about Samyah, or I felt she was there, back with me, celebrating. It’s like I pushed all away and now I am feeling all of it together. When you were away, I understood how much more difficult it was, feeling all of that without you… here. I am also not sure how it will be, I am not sure how much I am able to give to you right now. You saw yesterday how easily I can break down…” she said, taking a breath and looking back at him. “But I also would love to know what it really feels like, to share all of this with you."

“You are not the only one that is not sure how much I am able to give. Sometimes when I am so deep into my work, I feel like a shadow of myself. Even if I am there, the people around me feel like I am a ghost of the man I am, and maybe the worst is that I love losing myself so deep into a role. It’s the best feeling, even if I feel like shit at the end of the process,” he finished, trying to joke about it, intertwining his fingers with hers, wanting to feel her closer.

“What a pair we make, eh?” she smiled.

He chuckled at that, finishing his last bite of eggs. “Do you have plans today?” he asked, hoping to not get separated too soon.

“I don’t think I want to do anything. Every time I have one of those breakdowns, I feel exhausted the next couple of days. I just want to lay down and maybe watch something.”

“One of those?” he asked worriedly.

“They started a couple of months after Samyah’s passing. Moving here helped. I just had something similar the day I came back from the hospital, after what happened at the pub.”

He stroked her arm gently, not knowing how to help or what he could say. She was confronting her demons with an acceptance that he did not possess, almost like it was natural that things like this were happening and after those few days life would go on, with Jiyan being back to her solar and sassy self. On one side, he was slightly feeling frustrated about her laid-back attitude; he knew that he would not have her grace to behave like that if something similar happened to him. On the other hand, he was really amazed by the woman in front of him, by her resilience and her strength.

“If you don’t want to be on your own, but if you want some company, we can go back on the sofa, choose some comfort movies, and just relax. Later we can order something if we feel hungry.”

“You sure you are okay about spending the day watching movies with me?”

“It would be just grant, Jiyan,” he said, grinning, getting up from the kitchen island and gathering their plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“Are we allowed to snack during these movies?” she asked hopefully, as if they hadn't just finished breakfast.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked back.

“Popcorn?” she asked eagerly. 

“I'll put them in the microwave. Go check if you can find some movies,” he suggested.

“Do you have Star Wars?” she called from the living room.

“Yup, check the shelves on the left,” he said loudly back, just after putting two bowls of popcorn in the microwave and looking for some jalapenos. Then he paused for a moment, thinking about what George Lucas might say, knowing stories about his character, knowing they were using his movies as comfort just after a panic attack. Well, if it worked for her, he would never say no to a Star Wars marathon.

It took him a couple of minutes to return to the living room, with Jiyan seated comfortably on one side of the sofa, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

He passed her a bowl of popcorn as she pressed play, and “A New Hope” started. Sitting close to her, he started to enjoy the famous first scene of the saga, starting to understand why she found it comforting; it felt like being hugged by an old dear friend.

While Luke met Obi-Wan, Jiyan finished her bowl of popcorn, putting it on the floor. For a tiny person, she could pack away quite a bit of food. As she leaned back, before he could stop her, she took some popcorn from his still full bowl and then reacted with a shriek.

“What’s that?!”

“Popcorn,” he said back, ignoring her shock, hiding the bowl on his side of the couch, the furthest from Jiyan, worried what could happen to his guilty food treat. Hoping to refocus on the movie and avoid a topic that almost every friend or member of his family teased him for.

“No it’s not! Popcorn is crispy, salty, and addictive. What the fuck is that? It’s all soggy,” she whined, complaining.

He avoided her question until she started to tickle him on his side, making him squirm away.

“Jiyan!” he said, slightly annoyed, putting his bowl on the floor too, trying to avoid her tickling attack by grabbing both her wrists. As she tried to struggle away, Cillian pulled back, making her fall onto his chest, and him laying down on the couch.

“Are you finished?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You are ticklish,” she answered, avoiding the question with a devious smile, like a cat that ate the canary.

“No,” he tried saying, keeping his face as serious as he could, but her smile only grew wider.

“You are,” she teased.

“Jiyan…” he warned.

“Tickling you is less than a deserved punishment for what you have done to the popcorn,” she defended.

“It’s my bowl,” he said exasperatedly.

“I don’t think even serial killers would dare to do whatever you have done to popcorn. Not even terrorists. Maybe cops, you would expect that from cops, or fascists…”

He interrupted her with a kiss, freeing one of her wrists and cupping her face. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice lowering a tone, smiling amusedly at her.

“You’re not gonna distract me from your crimes, Murphy,” she said, pouting, as he kissed back her pout.

“No?” he asked, this time smirking.

“You cannot bribe me, I’m incorruptible,” she said seriously, as she settled more comfortably into his embrace, starting to run her fingers through his hair. She loved how soft his hair was; it was so comforting.

“Sure, love,” he teased her, starting to kiss her jawline till he found the spot just under her lobe, sucking it and getting a moan from her that made his insides boil, feeling his pants getting tight.

He caressed her throat with his nose, continuing his exploration and being surrounded by her perfume. He could smell some of his body wash and another smell that he could only describe as Jiyan, it reminded him of the spices of chai and the salty air of the sea. He breathed deeply, feeling all his senses wake up and had to control himself, wanting to just turn around with her under him and kiss every centimetre of free skin possible.

Jiyan, who was starting to feel all putty in his hands, tried to get some sort of control back by grabbing his hair slightly to capture his lips, with her free hand sneaking under his t-shirt wanting to also feel his skin. She was welcomed with his smooth skin and the lines of his muscles clenching as she caressed them, gaining a deep groan vibrating from his chest that she swallowed before biting his lower lip.

He also slid his hand under his hoodie she was wearing, caressing her sides as his brain went blank when he noticed just now the absence of a t-shirt or the feel of a bra.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath laboured, as his hands were just under her breasts, wanting nothing more than to feel their weight. She arched herself into his hands, like a luxurious cat, nodding her head before brushing kisses along his neck.

He caressed slowly the side of her chest, consciously avoiding the most erogenous zones, making her press into his hands even more, wanting to guide him silently where she wanted him to be touched. He smirked at her attempt, running his thumbs close to where she needed them the most, never really touching them, feeling her trembling with desires but still teasing her. She was so responsive.

“Cillian…” she whined in his neck, grabbing his hair hard.

“Yes, love?” he asked, amused, enjoying playing this game.

“You know what…” she mumbled.

He chuckled, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jiyan, annoyed and impatient with this man, got up sitting over his lap and in one move got rid of her hoodie, throwing it on the armchair next to them, leaving her topless in front of him. As Cillian's throat got dry and he was distracted by the view in front of him – her taut stomach and her round breasts with small dark areolas that were begging to be kissed – she used his distraction to push his shirt over his head, leaving his chest also bare in front of her.

“Are you done teasing?” she asked, her hands on his chest to balance over him.

“You are beautiful,” he said instead, not sure if he even heard her, his hands back on her, just under her ribs.

She bent and captured his lips, feeling the heat coming from him. His hands started to roam again, one holding her head and the other one cupping one breast, caressing her nipple, making her moan in their kiss. She felt his erection under her and moved her hips, starting a slow rhythm that made them both pant.

They lost themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, lips on lips, and fingers touching any part of skin they could reach.

As she started to rock faster, she started to feel the pressure and the heat inside her growing. When he moved his kisses to her neck and bit her, she moaned loud, feeling the electricity running in her body.

He slid his lips from her neck to the valley between her breasts, catching his breath slightly before he pressed his mouth to her nipples, sucking it slowly, gaining another deep moan from Jiyan. He used his teeth and tongue to explore, switching his attention from one breast to the other and Jiyan felt like her blood was burning, the pressure between her legs increasing.

She stopped her movements, making him look at her confused and worried, asking her if she was alright.

Instead she bent and captured his lips, the kiss became more heated. She then slid her hands in his sweatpants, breaking the kiss and asking silently if it was okay for him. At his eager nod, she got rid of his trousers with his help. As her hand ventured over his boxers, she lightly brushed against his erection, causing him to arch into her touch.

"Who's the tease now?" he rasped, his voice low and growling, as he eyed her with anticipation.

Instead of replying, she reached for him, pulling his underwear down to grasp his member, exploring him for the first time. Her touch was deliberate, moving slowly and firmly, savouring the weight of him and relishing in his laboured breaths and groans. She craved more.

As her thumb traced the pulsing vein on the side of his shaft, feeling his precum, his hands found her ass, gripping it firmly as he surrendered to the sensations she evoked. It didn't take much to push him to the brink.

"I want to feel you," he gasped, seizing her wrist to halt her movements. Looking into his glassy eyes, mirroring her own passion, she nodded.

Sitting up, she took his hand, guiding it to her sweatpants. Together, they shed her clothes, leaving her naked atop him.

"Are you clean?" she inquired, her hand caressing his member with a slow stroke.

"Yeah, are you?" he murmured, his voice dropping. "Do we need a condom?"

"I have an IUD, and I got tested in December when I donated blood on campus," she reassured him.

He nodded, cradling her face to kiss her fiercely once more. As they kissed languidly, catching their breath, her hands trailed down to his chest while his found her hips, aiding her in adjusting their positions.

Guiding him to her entrance, she began to sink onto him slowly, both of them moaning at the initial contact. She exhaled, trying to relax and accept his girth and length.

"Fuck… so tight," he groaned, closing his eyes as he felt her contracting. 

Feeling her stop, he opened his eyes back, trying to gather some control and staying as immobile as possible, "Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident as his thumbs circled her hips, offering support.

"Yeah, it's been a while," she whispered, closing her eyes to focus on her gradual movements, starting moving slowly.

Supporting her with one hand, he found her folds with the other, feeling how wet she was and searching for her clit. Slowly, he circled it with his thumb, causing her to close her eyes, arch her back, and moan deeply as she slowly sank down. She let out a deep whine when his entire length rested inside her.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, suppressing his own desires and focusing on her well-being.

"Yeah, it feels good," she said, breathing slowly. "I just need a moment."

She was incredibly tight and warm, enveloping him like a glove. He took a deep breath, restraining himself from moving and allowing her to adjust. He lay back down, enjoying the view of the gorgeous woman in front of him, holding her waist gently, he couldn’t stop touching that soft sunkissed skin.

As she began to feel more comfortable, she squeezed her walls experimentally, feeling him stiffen under her touch.

"Fuck, Jiyan!" he moaned deeply, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on her waist.

With slow movements, she adjusted her hips, searching for a good angle and relishing the sensation of him filling her up. As her movements became smoother, his tip brushed against a soft spot inside her, eliciting a deep moan from her, causing her to arch her back and lose her rhythm.

"Here?" he asked, using his other hand to guide her hips.

"Yes, don't stop," she said, feeling the pleasure intensifying and her walls pulsating.

Time seemed to slow for both of them as they rapidly approached their limits quickly, it had been sometime also for him. Cillian felt her walls spasm around him, signalling her impending release. His thumb went back to circle her clit as her hips stuttered and lost their rhythm. The tension inside him grew like a taut bow ready to be released.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her breathing laboured.

"I am too," he replied, withdrawing his fingers from her folds and gripping her hips tightly. Taking control of the rhythm, he thrust his hips upward, feeling her walls contracting around him. She reached for her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he growled, captivated by the sight before him.

Without warning, he felt her orgasm approaching, the sensations spreading through her body and engulfing her in pleasure, eliciting deep moans. As she tightened around him, pulling him in and causing him to groan loudly. It didn't take long for him to follow suit, his body tensing as his release filled her insides. They both felt her spasms and the aftershocks of their orgasms.

They remained intertwined for several minutes, trying to catch their breath, their sweaty bodies pressed together. Exhausted, Jiyan leaned down while Cillian embraced her, gently caressing her back.

Pressing a tender kiss on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

She murmured a sleepy affirmation, planting kisses between his neck and shoulder.

"Do you want to stay here or go to bed?" he inquired.

"Bed," she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

"Do you need help, love?" he asked, slightly amused.

Instead of answering, she kissed his neck and hugged him tightly, causing him to chuckle.

"Hmm," she mumbled, with a yawn.

Chuckling, he sat up, still inside her, eliciting a soft moan as he withdrew. Wrapping his arms around her, he carried her upstairs, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before gently laying her down on his bed. After quickly cleaning himself in the ensuite and grabbing a cloth for her, he returned to admire her naked form before laying beside her, cleaning up the mess they had made.

"Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes.

He tossed the cloth into the hamper and lay back, embracing her from behind. Pressing a kiss on her neck, he whispered, "You're amazing," as she snuggled into him, emitting a satisfied moan.

"That was a first for a Star Wars marathon," she said softly, her voice already sleepy and relaxed.

"Well, it did bring us comfort," he replied, hugging her tighter.

"Mmmh, I hope all our movie marathons end this way," she murmured, her energy fading.

"If you have enough energy, I can show you the best part later," he teased.

"Mmmh, sleepy," she moaned.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he said, closing his eyes and planting one last kiss on her neck.

"Mmmh mmm," she mumbled, relaxing, as they both fell into a restful sleep.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

#shadows of the sea #jiyan fabris x cillian murphy #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n

[lunarubra]

This is me blabbing away and trying to make sense of this crazy moment that's my life... Kind of like a PSA, without a real structure.

(Let's start with an apology, this was supposed to be short, just a couple of lines long, asking for some forgiveness for being so absent, and it turned into a small vent about my crazy life. Synthesis has never been one of my strongest features, apparently.)

Life has been crazy lately. April, May, and June are always hectic months for a teacher, and this year looks like it's going to be even worse. Right now, I'm juggling a full teaching post, a university research, a social life with a partner, a new kitten bringing me everyday dead lizards (she is a serial killer in disguise), and being selected as an internal commissioner for the high school diploma this year. And no, the last one is not an honor; it's more like a punishment for younger professors who don't have the authority to say no to older colleagues, plus a ton of paperwork and two more months of work while everyone else is on holiday. Yuppie for me. But joking aside, I'm not complaining about my job. I'm happy to teach, and compared to a lot of other jobs out there, I feel privileged to do what I'm doing. I love my kiddos, and even though most of the time they behave like dunderheads, teaching supports my creativity and gives me so many insights into my life.

But let's get to the point of all this. I am feeling slightly guilty for not being as active here as I should be and for not having enough mental energy and time to dedicate myself to writing more. To my lovely mutuals, I'm in awe of all that you're posting right now. I apologize for not replying and commenting on your amazing content as much as I would like. I just wanted to say, it's not because I'm disappearing; I'm just really busy, and I can't wait for the moment when I'll feel more chilled and can treat myself to all your new chapters, moodboards, and all the amazing content you're creating. I know I am being a small silent weight in your tag list, so thank you for still including me <3

About "Shadow of the Sea," I have a chapter ready and one WIP of the following one. I want to post the one that's ready sometime in the next week, but after that, I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next one. So Jiyan and Cillian are taking a small break. I'm going to continue the story; this is not a goodbye. I have many ideas and plans for those two idiots; I'm just waiting for some writing energy and time in my schedule.

And yeah, I understand if you're thinking, "Are you aware that your blog and story are read by less than 10 people and no one really gives a damn?" Yes, I am aware, and this post is mostly for me, writing it down it helps me a lot, giving some sort of clarity. However, I've had the chance to meet amazing creators since I got busy on Tumblr again a couple of months ago. People who supported me and helped me, so this is more me trying to explain why my support isn't at its 100% right now and trying to excuse myself since I feel like a horrible mutual right now.

Ah, one last thing, maybe the only thing that will pop up on my blog are some "Slow Horses" GIFs. Thanks to Alex, @cillmequick, Jackson Lamb, and River Cartwright have become my new obsession, and creating GIFs is one of the few things that calm me after a busy hectic day and make me use some of that creative energy left.

I think that's it. Please still free to write me and contact me about my fic, blog, shenanigans; I will try to reply as soon as possible. Sending you all a big hug if you arrive till the end of this long long lengthy text xD

#ari speaks #psa #shadows of the sea

[lunarubra]

Thierry De Cordier, 2011

Mer du Nord, Étude n°1

#shadow of the sea #aesthetic

[lunarubra]

Pick LITERALLY any other picture for cillian murphy I beg

#lmao

[lunarubra]

#me right now #hopefully this crazy period will be over soon #if my students would stop be dunderheads....