LANA DEL REYbehind The Scenes Of Her Rolling Stone UK Cover Shoot

LANA DEL REY behind the scenes of her Rolling Stone UK cover shoot

Savage Daughter || Shelby family x You

Summary:  When the Shelby family gathers together, chaos is never far. Yet, for once, it's not the men who bring it but you, and soon the girls join you too. (based on Ekatarina Shelehova - Savage Daughter)

Words: 1.2k

Notes:

✞ This story is linked with the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes but can be read as a stand-alone.

Slipping your finger between your diamond choker and your skin, you took a big exhale — the expensive corset you wore for the occasion was crushing your ribcage. The sound of chatters, clinging glasses, and classical music might have been loud but all you could hear was your own pulse, beating in your temples faster and faster with each labored breathing.

Your crystal eyes scanned the room, looking for your husband but it seemed that he was also in distress, standing still behind Tommy with his gaze fixed upon an invisible spot on the wall. Arthur was nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, visibly as uncomfortable as you when surrounded by all these posh guests, and yet, he had no other choice but to keep playing the bodyguard for his younger brother.

"Mr. Shelby, what a wonderful party you're hosting here! Arrow House is wonderful, I reckon." An old, ugly gentleman, dressed in a suit more expensive than everything your parents had ever owned, said with his silly accent. If being honest, he was looking absolutely ridiculous with his ears too big and his triple chin far too fat for such a small bowtie. To play the Devil's advocate, your mocking thoughts were justified: the pig had tried to grope almost every woman he had talked with. And as if this previous fact didn't render him despicable enough, he had ignored Arthur as if he were part of the ballroom's furniture. Another sigh, louder this time, escaped from your lips at the painful sensation of the blisters behind your heels when they rubbed against your tight shoes.

When Arthur came back to you, one look at his pursed lips had been enough for you to guess that he had spent the last ten minutes keeping himself from strangling the impolite Mr. Dempsey.

"Fookin' bastard, can't even say a bloody 'hello' to me. I swore I should've cut his fucking —" Stopping mid-sentence, the lanky gangster suddenly frowned and tilted its head at the sight of you taking your high heels off, only half listening to him, "The hell you're doing, angel?"

"I'm taking my heels off, that's what I do." You replied, grunting as you undid the complicated laces that were climbing up your shinbones, "And I don't care if it ain't classy or decorous, these shoes are making my skin bleed and this damn corset is suffocating me!" Talking about the corset, you pulled on the delicate silky laces to tear them apart and free your body from this inhumane trap until all you were wearing was a thin white summer dress.

"Heaven, love," Arthur tried to interrupt as he noticed how a few outraged guests were already whispering together all the while glaring at you. Among them, Tommy Shelby's arctic iris.

"I'm dead serious: I'm trapped here among hypocrites, suffering in clothes their wives criticized when they saw me while I could be outside, peacefully enjoying the immense garden of the mansion. A garden which is, by the way, the only enjoyable feature of this golden cage. All of this only because Tom wants people to believe we're all getting along in the family, tsk." Arthur closed his mouth, unable to find something to retort to your murderous prose. Maybe that was why he looked at you silently instead, a glimmer of amusement shining in his still blue eyes. "What?" You finally asked, not comprehending why the lanky gangster was now smiling, his mustache slightly lifted on one side.

"Gimme these shits." With that being said, Arthur took your heels and corset from your hands before leaning above you and kissing your forehead with indescribable tenderness, completely obliterating the rest. "Now go," The gravel in his voice rumbled, "Go run barefoot and curse at sharp stones, I ain't going to pin your wings." Of course you felt suffocating, he thought, for he knew you didn't belong here. Just like him. But while he had to remain somewhat near to his brother for the whole evening, Arthur never wished to inflict such torment on your savage soul: you were born to dance around fires, in the curves of old bones, or look for omens in the falling of feathers. Not to sip on champagne and boast about your riches with aristocratic ladies.

"Really?" You inquired, the fierceness of your face softening at your husband's surprising —and understanding— reaction. Arthur winked at you for a sole reply before turning around and barking at those who were still observing you with a loud "The fook you're looking at me wife ay? Go back to your chit-chat!". It had been the final nail in Tommy's coffin, who pinched his nose as if to stop a dawning headache — a headache that bore your name.

Offering one shark-like and insolent smile to little King Shelby, you left the ballroom running barefoot and only stopped when you found yourself in the middle of the garden, slowly spinning on yourself. With your doll-like face facing the night sky, you relished the sensation of the fresh breeze softly grazing your skin in welcoming strokes. A cheerful giggle fell from your plump lips as rays of moonlight illuminated your dainty frame like a myriad of motherly hands ready to catch you.

"Hey! Devil! You're nothing but trouble, you know that?!" A feminine voice erupted behind you, making you stop dancing and glance from where the soft lilt was coming. What was your surprise when your gaze met Ada's cunning smile! Beside her Polly was standing, her frail arms crossed on her bosom but her ebony eyes displaying an excitement she hadn't felt in years.

"I can't help it, Ada. I'm my mother's savage daughter!" You exclaimed, opening your arms to fake a pretentious bow — a move that stirred a sincere laugh from your sister-in-law.

"Tommy's mad." She said through her grin.

"Tommy's always mad. Why don't you join me?" At your offering, Ada side-eyed her dear Aunt, not sure if she could momentarily strip from the elegant Mrs. Thorne mask and be herself for once. For fuck's sake! Can't they fucking behave?! Can't your fucking wife stop fucking everything up just once eh?! Tommy's voice was roaring from the inside of Arrow House, just what Ada and Polly needed to make up their mind.

Freeing themselves from fancy hats, oppressive clothes, and painful high heels, both Polly and Ada joined you in the middle of the garden, the two of them grabbing one of your hands to form a round dance.

We are our mother's savage daughters, you sang.

I'm not joking Arthur! Did you think about what people are going to say?!

We are our mother's savage daughters, Ada followed. Her voice swirled up to the sky, each note bringing her closer to her mom she barely knew.

We will not cut our hair! We will not lower our voice! Polly's cheered louder, and as she did she was sixteen again, walking barefoot in the mud with a horse's rein in one hand and flowers in the other.

And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking So sing them with voices of thunder and rain, the wind carried your chant away. So far away that somewhere on the road, one Romani woman, fierce and beautiful, felt the wild drums of nature beating within her as she braided the hair of her adorable little girl.

"Are you okay Mom?" She asked, concerned by her mother's sudden stop.

"Yes, Katie. Yes, I am."

Esme smiled.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

i love micheal cera

DANIEL'S Austrialian road trip adventure

in my feelings

“Who is the hottest f1 driver?”

– Charles Leclerc, obviously

“That's such a basic answer”

– ALRIGHT, YOU WANT THE REAL ANSWER??

“YES”

– SEBASTIAN VETTEL REVERSING A CAR WITH HIMSELF TURNED AROUND IN HIS SEAT AND HIS ARM BEHIND KIMIS SEAT