shadowofyourheart

[shadowofyourheart]

I dance as I’m falling ━ thomas shelby x fem!reader

But this force of a man commanded to be looked at when he occupied the room and with a light touch on her chin she was pushed into the ocean of his eyes.

[shadowofyourheart]

Clarisa, how are you? I’m curious what you’re working on right now? I love your writing and beautiful moodboards so much! 💕💗💕

hii! ahh thank you so much for your sweet words, i always appreciate each one of your comments in my writing 💗 means so much to me. currently i have something planned but its mostly just phrases and ideas 😅 its pretty smutty (which i struggle with) and has religious references (pure blasphemy) bc i have always been interested in that aspect of peaky blinders. we will see how it turns out!

[shadowofyourheart]

Hi Clarisa! I hope you’re doing well!

I just wanted to stop in and say that I appreciate you and all of the lovely stories you share with us.

Sending good vibes for the upcoming week! 😊💕

oh this is such a lovely message 💞 you have no idea how happy this made, u are truly the sweetest person 💖 i hope only goods things come to your life!

[shadowofyourheart]

summer sun for you forever ━ thomas shelby x fem!reader

Down by the river that's where she likes to be.

Her fingers run through the cold transparent water, steady breathing and eyes closed to feel the sun on her skin, summer days were made to be spent like this. The singing birds and the green grass being slowly swayed by the fresh breeze were a fairly good companion to the woman sitting on the blanket, close enough to the river so she could dip her fingers there.

The picturesque house posed in the background very far away from her, one could barely make out the figures of maids rushing around doing chores. But it wasn't only the maids that occupied the large house for there was a man deeply staring at the woman from the bedroom window.

Perhaps reading by the small lamp by his desk, despite the presence of the shining sun neglected by closed curtains, has become bothersome enough for him to depart from his dreary office, wandering to the master bedroom in a quest for his wife. Her absence in said room leads him to call one of the maids about his wife's whereabouts but he sees her figure from the window before doing so. Concern crosses his face as he recalls the numerous times he has reminded her she shouldn't stroll away too often and if she does, company should be at her side at all times. And yet she was unescorted as if she was waiting for him.

He saw her hands covered in red spots first, and the bowl of strawberries laying on the blanket second, "It is dangerous to be us yet you are here alone?"

"I knew it was you Thomas, I can always tell", she finishes her claim putting a strawberry in her mouth, "But if I said that, you wouldn't believe me would you?"

"I would say you have been spending an awful lot of time with Polly", she motions with one of her hands for him to sit down and as he does he notices a small drop of juice falling from the corner her mouth. He catches it with his thumb before it stains her pristine white dress and tastes for himself his wife's most recent harvesting work.

Their little girl has complained once about the lack of color in the vast garden, she wanted to see flowers and eat delicious fruit during warm days. Since Thomas Shelby lives to please the women in his life, he was to instruct the gardener to fill the land with colorful life. But before all was said and done, his wife decided to make good use of the books she recently acquired after a trip to the city and decorated the garden herself.

This was several months ago.

"Well, don't stray too far alright?", he was about to stand up from his crouching position but her swiftly hand holds him by the arm before he could, she wears an inquisitive expression to obtain a response from him, "What?" He demands.

"You are leaving already?", perplexed by her husband's annoyingly strict work ethic, "Don't tell me work will keep you from spending the afternoon with me?" It was a smart tactic he thought, she was aware of his only weakness, and since work has indeed kept him away from his family for the past days with his dismissive I have things to do, he obliges.

There was an old open book on her lap, all imaginary symbols he has described it once when he saw her carrying it. A gift from Polly of course. Months ago she has approached the younger woman with a small stash on her jewellery adorned hands, after dropping it on her hands she said, "It will protect you from all evil", as the woman inspected the purple crystal necklace in her possession Polly resumed, "well, all non-familiar evil." It was a treasured memory that has never left her mind, calming her recurring thoughts of the older woman disliking her since she hasn't exactly shown much interest.

The crystal necklace lays delicately on her chest.

"Pour me some of that then." 'That' being the overly too sweet wine for her husband that she customarily drinks and he usually loves to tease her about. The dark purple liquid pleases his throat and stains his already pink lips a shade darker; a kiss is demanded. But before his alluring presence took the best of her impulsivity, he moves to remove his dress jacket and inhales the clean air of summer.

She notices the prominent dark circles under his eyes and the way his blinking slows as he tries to exhale all exhaustion that his body carries. She felt the discomfort of his constricting tie and decided she would do him a service, with gentle hands around his neck, she removes his blue tie and observed him visibly relax. She kisses his cheek once as he looks far away from her, and twice when he stills, surprised by her sudden action. He turns to her and holds her hand, playing with the ring on her finger from when they both promised to love each other eternally.

"More beautiful than any flower," he puts both of his palms on her face upon feeling foolish for intending to express his blissfulness to her through a compliment. His closeness is all consuming, from the depth of his blue eyes to the velvet of his voice, she is completely enamoured by the man in front of her.

"Well aren't you a poet Mr. Shelby," she has a smile that is as luminous as the sun, and he mimics her contentment by smiling as well. The poetry books he has collected over the years have convinced him she deserved to hear delightful words as the ones he has read but he is no expert yet.

"I'm a man of few words," she gets lost in the blue of his eyes, bluer than any summer sky.

"Yes, the right ones." He traces her face with rough fingertips that have never known gentleness until her. The sour taste on his tongue from the Irish whiskey he had before fills her mouth with its richness, all her senses relinquishes to the passionate kiss they share.

Her burning desire gets extinguished as she remembers they are not alone, they never are, "Tommy the maids will gossip."

He chuckles at her worried expression not out of malice but in the face of her ingenuous question he finds amusement, "they won't unless they want to get fired."

"Sometimes I feel like they hear us..."

"Oh they try," he says as mere display of arrogance that slips through his mouth.

"Why?" Timid red flushed cheeks too tempting, he takes action.

He lays her gently on the blanket and positions himself on top of her. He meddles with the front buttons of her dress, all efforts are worth it as he reveals her french silk brassiere. Her skin shines brightly as the burning sun has created a thin layer of sweat, "they want to be in your place," he places a kiss on her throat feeling her pulse starting to fasten, "want what you have," lips start trailing down her chest as he grabs one of her legs with a firm hand and places it on his waist, "want to be you." 

But no one could ever be her, she is the one for him.

[shadowofyourheart]

brightest daylight after the darkest night — lizzie stark x fem!reader

She was everything Lizzie has lost over the years, all the bits that have been ripped away from an early age, bright sincere smiles and ardent laughter; the woman’s lively nature reminded her of innocence.

[shadowofyourheart]

brightest daylight after the darkest night ━ lizzie stark x fem!reader

The pouring rain painted shadows in the desolated city as the sky soared bleaker. She arrived upon the woman's apartment steps completely drenched, black hair framing her face covered in tears paired up with a reddening nose. A broken heart that desperately needed mending presented itself that night.

"What is wrong with me?" Lizzie expressed holding a tissue to her nose, while the woman was adding firewood to the presently burning fire warming up the room, "Nothing is!"

"Sure there is! I'm an idiot that's what I am. Why do I always end up in the same place?" she kneels before Lizzie, holding her cold palms wishing she could mend her dejected heart. The fireplace offered enough warmth but the comfort Lizzie was seeking didn't come from the fire but from her.

"Where? In my arms?" The woman asked as she sat on the couch and was gifted an endearing smile for the first time that dark night. Lizzie held no remorse against the rain as it reminded her of the first time she met the woman whose arms were holding her tightly.

Unbeknown to the solitary woman entering the bustling bar, she was about to be asked to leave. Now, if Lizzie Stark was to be asked why on earth she decided to interrupt her fun with her current companions only to save the solitary woman she would have no answer. Perhaps it was the woman's marvelled expression at her surroundings, or perhaps she has grown weary of familiar faces that didn't fill her heart. Lizzie didn't wear the last name Shelby as other threatening people in town did, but she has been seen enough times with the brothers to let it be known she is under their protection. As she approached the unknown woman with a recently filled glass of champagne, she mustered her nicest smile and handed the newcomer a sweet welcome.

She was everything Lizzie has lost over the years, all the bits that have been ripped away from an early age, bright sincere smiles and ardent laughter; the woman’s lively nature reminded her of innocence. Dressed with gold sequences she shined brightly under the shimmering lights of the chandelier, "Come! Dance with me," she expressed enthusiastically to Lizzie who has been sitting with her drink entertained with the performance she couldn't tear her eyes off. She was offered a hand and, despite being almost completely absorbed by the woman´s rosy cheeks, she extended her own to take it.

Lizzie's reluctant actions almost made the woman reconsider her invitation, but the warmth feeling of her hand was enough to deflect any nervous sentiment. She was closer now, easily identifying the details of the piece of art Lizzie Stark is. Immersed in the sweet scent of her fragrance she almost missed the jewellery that embellishes her body.

"That's a lovely bracelet Miss Stark," the woman offered a compliment in return for the kindness Lizzie has shown her since the night sky befell on them.

"It's Lizzie, and thank you," finding no need for formalities, she continued to sway her body trying to follow the drunken guidance the woman offered. Not a professional dancer by far but this was the most fun Lizzie has had in a while.

"Oh and matching earrings that go with it, so thoughtful. From a lover perhaps?" It was an innocent inquiry the woman thought, no more than a friendly interest, but Lizzie dropped her hand while dancing.

No, not at all. But those words were left unsaid, as Lizzie wasn't sure what the gift meant in her heart.

The soothing motion on her back was lulling her to sleep so she laid her head on the woman's shoulder and sighed, "Can I stay tonight?" There was no need to ask, the woman dropped a soft kiss on Lizzie's forehead and answered with a barely audible of course. Her lips were soft, Lizzie noted, it felt as no man that has ever caressed her before. Wandering thoughts led her to ponder how those lips would feel on hers and if the woman would be willing to even reciprocate her longing. Lizzie is not a coward, she has never shied away from anyone in her life and yet the words were trapped in her throat.

After leaving Lizzie to accommodate in the guest room, the woman returned with a warm cup of honey tea in her hands. A hot water bottle was put under the velvet covers and a myriad of candles were lit filling the room with scents of lavender and vanilla.

"Don't trouble yourself for me, there is no need," like a burden on someone's shoulders, Lizzie has never felt wanted or needed and, before her thoughts got the best of her, she received a response, "and there's no trouble."

Lizzie Stark realised she wasn't used to this, to being seen eye to eye. Too accustomed to men turning her around just to satisfy their needs, leaving her unloved, undeserved of the honesty their eyes could never give her. But there is honesty in her sweet words and in her eyes, Lizzie bets in her heart too. She wishes she could be kept there, closer to the woman's heart, perhaps in a locket as she has never been before. As if she has been voicing her thoughts out loud the woman says "you were never meant to be hidden Lizzie Stark, you shine brighter than any sapphire." She crumbles at the woman's words, no longer containing the pain in her heart instead she pours it out as she sits on the bed.

"I'm sorry I'm such a fucking mess," tears continue to fall from her rapidly blinking eyes intending to appease the downpour as the woman approaches her, positioning her hands on Lizzie's face offering a comforting smile, a smile that says everything will be alright. Yes, please, Lizzie begged inside her mind, just hold me and don't leave.

"Don't apologize," she wipes her tears away in hopes of soothing her disheartening state, "let's go to sleep, tomorrow will be better."

She lays down on the bed first and Lizzie follows a heartbeat later with curiosity on her tongue, "and you will be here?" Fearful of the answer she would receive, her pulse starts to fasten, longing to light a cigarette and feel how her problems fill her lungs like the smoke she is used to inhale until there is nothing pure inside of her. Such emotions get buried as the woman reassures Lizzie she will be there in the morning too.

"You give too much of yourself Lizzie but what is there left for you?" Speechless by her companion's question, she closes her eyes and avoids facing the reality of the path she walks on. A path where she displays herself as it's convenient to others, whoever they desire for her to be. Deciding not to press on the matter she drops a kiss on Lizzie's forehead and pulls the warm blankets over their bodies, protecting them from the cold.

Morning comes and it's brighter now, rain no longer dreading the Lizzie's heart. The sun filters through the white curtains, illuminating the woman's face still deeply asleep, still there after the night; her arm is draped over Lizzie's waist giving a sense of comfort, protection.

A cascade of emotions runs through Lizzie for she found herself in the unknown, completely out of her senses. The rise of terror overcoming her comes to a halt when she feels movement. The sleeping woman moves closer until her breathing rests in the crook of Lizzie's neck, "slept well?" Mouth opening in an attempt for an answer, or an excuse perhaps, a plan to free herself from this feeling clutching at her heart but all she manages to whisper is a soft "yes."

The woman withdraws from the warmth of her neck and touches Lizzie's cheeks with a tender hand, "want to have breakfast now?" Yet it's not food that she craves but her, this source of light that comes from her words and warm hands. Lizzie wants that light to seep through the cracks of her heart, those soft touches on her skin. She wants those night-time dances full of smiles they exchange privately in the company of others; just as the night before, evoking the memory of when the woman whispered in her ear "you dance so beautifully" like a secret she wanted to keep only between them.

Close to her, she finds peace. Lizzie decides right there and then, that this is where she would put her love.

[shadowofyourheart]

our love is a ghost that the others can’t see ━  thomas shelby x fem!reader

Ada has told him once, “you never let anyone in” but if he were to open the door the spirits that whisper in his ears at night would come in and take him; they would feast on his soul.

[shadowofyourheart]

our love is a ghost that the others can't see ━  thomas shelby x fem!reader

Autumn has arrived on this cold sombre night, as the wind blasts harshly against the large bedroom window. "This house is haunted," she heard the maids whisper this morning as they ignited the fireplace; perhaps this house was plagued with ghosts that refused to let go. She has written it in a letter once, of the horrors of Arrow House. How the walls wail when the sun recedes from the sky revealing the countless stories they have witnessed, the creaking doors that know no peace and the shadows that dance around the candle lit halls. The unceasing rattling sound of the wind did nothing to subdued her uneasy mind.

Like a storm seeking calmness, her soft fingertips linger over his heaving naked chest, tracing the tattoos marking his body. A nightmare must be plaguing his mind she thought.

To awaken him would be a mistake. Some nights, when his erratic breathing would stop she would grab the cloth from her nightstand and delicately clean his face from the thin layer of sweat. She’d wait a few minutes to make sure the demons wouldn't come lurking and then she would lie her head on his chest with a hand on his heart. In the morning, she'd have the maids change the bedding and phone Polly for a fresh blend of herbs for his tea.

Other nights were more difficult. He would open his eyes to the darkness, seeking for enemies in the room, and then get up and leave for the restroom if he recognized none. He'd wait for half an hour to see if he could simmer down, and if that didn't work, he'd murmur, "I'll be at my study," without looking at her. Sometimes an invitation other times simply a clarification of his whereabouts so she wouldn't be worried. But from morning to night his decaying heart was a constant worry. His silence fills the room louder than the gunfire inside his head.

Tonight would be no different, she mused, as he lifted the covers and tucked them against her side, reached for the dormitory door to leave her all alone in the bed. Only this time she heard the main door downstairs being opened followed by the sound of footsteps outside. Her mind would not rest until she saw him well.

Clutching her white silk gown on her hands, she rapidly walked the hall that led to the staircase. As she passed by the numerous paintings on the wall, she couldn't help but pauses at the sight of the bigger one occupying the dark wall. Barely illuminated, her mind could have playing tricks on her, but the painting hanging on the wall looked unfamiliar now. Once a happy family, it's unrecognizable what they have become.

Cold drizzle befell on her shivering body and, if he were to see her current state, she would get scolded as her long gown didn't do much to keep her body warm even as she wore a cloak to shield her from getting wet. The cold of the air had her rubbing hands together in hope of eliciting warmth. She knew her husband's mourning heart like all the books at his gloomy study, where she has spent countless of his sleepless nights by his side. Her husband overworking himself while she read a book to pass time.

She has held his heart in her hands too many times, sometimes barely beating. He believes his condemned soul belongs in a graveyard so that’s where he wanders to. Bottle of whiskey on his hand, long forgotten regard for his expensive clothes, he sat at someone’s grave. He possesses a haunting look on his face, eyes absorbed in the mist that surrounded the scenery like the smoke inside his lungs.

"Charlie will ask for you Tom." Her whispering voice reaches his ears, but his unresponsive body denies any evidence of recognition. He couldn't hear her, sitting on the wet muddied grass he could feel the hands of the death grabbing his limps, pulling him down to the depths of hell. Ada has told him once, "you never let anyone in" but if he were to open the door the spirits that whisper in his ears at night would come in and take him; they would feast on his soul.

She yearns to pull apart the threads that hold him back from this reality, to bring him back to her. Sitting by his side, in hopes of comfort, she holds his exhausted body in her tender arms reminiscing those nights he has held his little boy in his arms when he gets frightened by thunderous storms. Nights where there was no moon that would cast light inside the room through the windows but only lighting would come aggravating the boy's anguish. Similarly, to the young boy’s behaviour she found no predisposition in him as he refuses her touch and scurries away, eluding her hold.

Desperation takes hold of him and as if she is the one causing that insatiable pain that eats his heart out, his demeanour is frightened; a sob escapes him and she knows he is not himself in that moment. Her whispering voice does nothing to silence the noise in his head and yet she still tries, drawn to the deep blue ocean of his eyes.

His glassy eyes stare at her, like she is an apparition his troubled mind grievously needed to see. "I'm here Tommy," his name comes to life like a witch's spell. Hesitantly, she grabs his cold shaking hand and puts it over her rapidly beating heart, compared to his rotting heart, hers is alive.

"Come back," her warm lips lightly touch his cold like marble cheek, a kiss to his soul and heart, "come back to me Tommy."

"There is nothing to come back to", his voice breaks when he speaks for the first time since she has arrived, "it won't stop", he says tormented, there is no soul in his utterance.

He is utterly lost inside his own head, "It's just noise, it's alright," she whispers soothingly. The wind lashes against them, displaying the crisp leaves over the cobblestone pathway they were seated on. He traces the lines on her palm, with a new found serenity inside his mind in this darkest night. There was agony on this cruel world but there was her.

"Let's get you out of the cold yeah?" Invoking strength from within she envelops her arms around him, the man she holds in her shivering arms is but a shell of a man, hollow. It was absurd to attempt to fill the holes nor to contain his leaking wounds. Instead, she envelopes her gentle hands around his thorny heart, it pricks her, droplets of blood befalling on her, interlocking their fates together for as long as they both breathe in this world.

[shadowofyourheart]

i'll be posting a new piece today! im really thankful for the attention my past works got, i hope everyone enjoyed reading them as much as i enjoyed writing them 🌟

[shadowofyourheart]

filled with lust, a lust for death ━  thomas shelby x fem!reader

Her husband was a cold hearted man with a troubled mind so he often seeks warmth in others and vicious habits but since they have married, she is all he consumes and devours.

[shadowofyourheart]

filled with lust, a lust for death ━  thomas shelby x fem!reader

Her backside hits the bathroom's marble counter as she continues the conversation that began in the bedroom. Late at night, an exhausted man presented himself at the door of the house like a ghost, holding onto anything his trembling hands could reach. "Of course I'm pissed. You never come home and when you do, you are covered in bruises and cuts. That's not my Tommy."

Her husband was a cold hearted man with a troubled mind so he often seeks warmth in others and vicious habits but since they have married, she is all he consumes and devours.

He kneels before her, disdain look on her face. Both of her hands are on his face firmly holding him in place while his eyes are fixed between her thighs. He licks his dry lips adorned with cuts awaiting for her command. Long silk gown disregarded as they came to the room, her body is covered in black lace recently bought by her husband.

"Oh no, that would require a lot more blood in my hands." There is a switch inside of her, that sentence alone makes the hot blood in her veins rush over her whole body sending a thrill to her core. Abrasive blue eyes stare at her, convinced she means to make him endure a long suffering delay as punishment for his late arrival and wounded state.

"Yes, but you would do it for me right?" Her hands are warm, as he often seeks, and gentle on his face, soft thumb doing soothing circles on his darkening bruised cheek.

"If that's what you want." Thomas Shelby is hopelessly devoted to her.

She gives him a nod, and he ponders his next move. She has trained him to be better, to rise above, to not hurry and mess things up. So he kisses both of her thighs first, his long eyelashes touches his cheek as he closes his eyes to lose himself in the feeling of her tender skin. His mouth is gaping in front of her cunt, he is so close she can feel his burning hot harboured breathing. As slow as he could manage, his warm tongue delicately runs through her slick centre savouring her taste in his starving mouth. One of her hands land on his shoulder for support while the other holds for dear life on the cold counter.

Overflowing with satisfaction, an image comes to her mind as the noise of her husband's saliva blending with her fluids resonating in the bathroom fills her ears. Ignoring the knife in her garter, his desperate hands hold onto her while trying to touch every bit he can reach.

"When will I get to play with the Russian lady? Never had royalty before."

He abruptly stops his ministration, which earns him a pair of scolding eyes and a hand on his neck forcefully pushing his mouth against her, where it belongs. But his strength comes out to play when he feels threatened, his head remains in place and his eyes lose their playful glimmer.

"And you never fucking will."

She scoffs as he stands up from his place disrupting her pleasure, he wipes his mouth covered in her wetness with the back of his hand, and encages her against the marble surface with his arms. He awaits for an explanation.

"What? Like you don't want her in our bed." That chagrin loving smile never leaves her face while his could be read as exasperated.

"I'm eating your fucking cunt and that's what you are thinking about? That crazy woman?" Her actions and words are a threat to his patience, a daily occurrence at Arrow House.

"I'm only asking." Feigning innocence and bashfulness, his wife has mastered the art of having people wrapped around her finger.

"How polite of you," he all but spats at her.

She has met the mysterious woman only once.

Sweet taste of strawberry mousse on her tongue, she has spent a large portion of the night in the company of luxurious food and kindred while her husband was away talking to whoever was deemed important in the room.

"Does your husband leave you alone often Mrs. Shelby?" She feels the bitter response coming from her throat, cleans her mouth with a napkin and turns around to see who the voice belongs to. It's a woman, a beautiful one with cherry red lips and shiny pearls around her neck. "I thought of him as a gentleman, seems I was mistaken."

"He is a busy man, can't hoard him to myself all night." Gentle smile graces the Mrs. face as she assesses the woman with dark eyes who hasn't introduce herself yet, "I'm perfectly capable of enjoying my own company and of others Miss…"

"Tatiana Petrovna. My family is doing business with your husband." It might have been the bubbling of the champagne on her tongue but If the room weren't filled at the brim with people she would have felt incline to kiss the duchess hand and do more than that if she was willing.

"Don't be such a bore Thomas." Coaxing some peace in his mind she plants both of her palms on his naked chest, feeling the tension slowly dissipating from his body. He rolls his eyes at her actions and responds to her in a compromised amicable tone.

"What are you proposing eh?" She dodges past him, leaving him with no answer as she crosses the door leading to their shared bedroom.

"Ever the businessman…" she lies on the bed, resting on the soft velvet covers and signals him to come, "She is here only for a brief period of time right?", the man sits on the bed and puts a cigarette on his lips. He nods. Perhaps it was her enticing voice but he felt drawn to her, his rough hands move from her abdomen to her legs, attentively listening to her reasoning.

"So we shall be polite. We invite her to dinner, we show her the house, the bedroom and then… you can watch us."

He pinches her thigh finding no amusement in her mocking voice.

"I'm only teasing my love. You must partake in. I want her to have you in her mouth while I have her in mine." Discarding the cigarette, he kisses her the second she finishes talking, inclining his body against hers trying not to put his crushing weight on her. But the need to have him closer blossoms inside of her. Putting her legs around his waist she pulls him as close as she can, forcefully grabbing his hair with one hand as her bright scarlet nails delicately touches his sweet pink lips.

Her kiss is pure poison, it's as a violent as the life he has lead. Feeling droplets of blood on his lips, he hisses annoyed by the sharp pain she has caused him, grabs her angelic face digging his thumb on her cheeks, "What is it love?" voice laced with an unpleasant sweetness reaches his ears, "can't take it?" She has an animalistic ravenous appetite, wanting nothing more than to sink her teeth into this powerful man, to possess his body and soul.

[shadowofyourheart]

I dance as I'm falling ━ thomas shelby x fem!reader

When she wrote, her paper would always be tilted, and she made almost no sound except for the pen on the paper. She found herself writing on the other side of his desk, which was large enough for the both of them to work on their respective tasks, bathed in the coziness of the fireplace. Her companionship emanated an exceptionally soothing effect, must be her calmed breathing as opposed to the man's frustrated sighs.

A murmur of the record player filled the quiet room, gifted by the sweet Ada who said "you could use some company since you married that stone cold brother of mine", in a taunting but still playful way.

She'd been given a simple task for her own peace of mind, since she'd grown weary with the lack of things to do around the residence. The charity function at Arrow House would require a guest list.

Dutiful wife, delightful stepmother. Those are the titles she carries around since she married him.

A quiet melody began to play, interrupting her thoughts, resonating with the two hearts in the room. Moving papers around, he almost missed her timid smile.

It was their wedding song which they were unable to dance to. Tommy was nowhere to be seen, having been summoned somewhere far off. Despite the fact that the words "I give you the bride and groom" were pronounced, the eldest assumed leadership. It was a Shelby party, Arthur declared, rather loudly and inebriated, and it should be remembered as such. He took her hand and began spinning her around the room, effectively disregarding the gentle music playing. She felt so dizzy that she didn't think she'd be able to eat the cake that was shortly to be cut. Sweet John was more gentle, perhaps a little apprehensive, given her recent introduction to the family. Then he reappeared, always the spectator, witnessing his family's antics and yet never partaking. The dance was over and it was time for cake before he could reach her among the sea of guests who were undoubtedly invited for business purposes.

It was a fond memory which almost made her forget this was a marriage done for convenience.

His voice sent goosebumps down her spine as he inquired, "Do you enjoy the song?" He needed to say something about that day, so he offered a simple request.

"It holds good memories, that's all. I don't know If you recalled but it was played at our wedding." What an unusual thing to tell her own husband. A distant man who she only sees during meals and galas, if her presence was demanded.

“I do. Should've been there, I’m sorry." When he stated this, she looked away from the paper to observe if he meant it or if he was just trying to appease her restless mind and heavy heart. He was seizing her up in the same way she has seen him do before with business partners at eventful nights, filled with hidden rolling eyes from him and pleasant chatter done by his wife, as she played the role of Mrs. Shelby exceptionally well with a glass of champagne in one hand and the other wrapped around her husband's arm.

"It's alright, I had lots of fun with your family all the same." Please continue to talk she implored to no one in her mind. She wanted to learn more about him, even if it meant putting together the pieces of the puzzle slowly. She longed for his affection, to be present on his mind as he was in hers.

He stood up abruptly while she was having her internal debate, and before regret clouded his resolve, he approached her side and extended his hand, "I owe you a dance, I'm not accustomed to being in debt." His hands were cold, covered in abrasions she hadn’t noticed before and yet she felt secure in his firm grasp. Intimidated by his stormy blue eyes she concentrated on his nicely done tie, contradicted between wanting the moment to be over and wishing to be held by him until night fell. But this force of a man commanded to be looked at when he occupied the room and with a light touch on her chin she was pushed into the ocean of his eyes. Illuminated by the fireplace, she felt unnervingly seen as if her eyes were pouring out her heart to him and yet he seemed unaffected by it. She wished to believe there was something more tender behind the walls he had constructed around himself as his calloused hand lingered from her shoulder blades to her waist, gently drawing her closer to him. She could feel her cheeks flaring up and with a rapidly beating heart she clutched onto the fabric of his vest, astonished by his action.

Like specks of lighting, memories of the past weeks began starring in her mind. She felt a tug at her heartstrings and the magic was gone. It was replaced by an empty feeling of self-pity and delusion as she realized the man in front of her didn’t love her. She wasn't even sure If he was capable of loving. Cold air was what she needed, after thanking him for the dance, a brief fake smile was all he got as she ran away from his study leaving him with an unsettling tingling in his palms.