#and Arthur's waist bags

[shinmiyovvi]

Cries uncontrollably

It's almost done 😭

[warnersister]

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine Shana!!! I can't believe i made it finally jgfcjjcgjgx i would love to see some fma (Sacrifice is free/ed&ling betrothed/What They Expect) or more of Lord Arthur De Bois, or time travel Jiang Cheng/drarry, or Avengers' Three Faced Goddess! (can anyone tell I Cannot choose favourites? They're all so gooood) and if none of those sound appealing, dealer's choice! thank you!!

continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

It's sort of awkward, because Eden insists on thick tights and long sleeves and keeps her gloves on, but Catherine takes it in stride and doesn't react with anything more than a single raised eyebrow. Maybe she thinks she has some sort of terrible skin condition on her limbs, or something, because she's perfectly fine with plunging necklines and the lacy bras Catherine shoves at her.

She hasn't worn anything besides a sports bra since she's had breasts. They're not exactly comfortable, but compared to the constant, background ache of the automail it doesn't even make a blip on her radar.

Besides. They make her look like a girl, shoving her breasts up front and center, and their size had been an annoyance when passing for a boy and a comfort when she looked at herself naked in the mirror, searching for the girl she was rather than the boy everyone saw, but this is different.

"Wow," Catherine blinks, tilting her head to the side.

Eden flushes and wishes that at any point she'd learned how to talk to pretty girls outside of life or death situations. "I hadn't realized they - I'm not used to wearing, um, girly stuff."

"You look good in it," she says, touching Ed's back and shifting her to face the mirror.

She's in black tights and boots with a chunky heel, taller than the ones she normally wears and sleeker, stopping just below her knees. She's wearing a dark green dress with a deep neckline. She's used to be hard lines and sharp edges, but she looks soft here, her hips and breasts curving out from her waist and the dress somehow minimizing the breadth of her shoulders, or maybe it's just that with all the skin on display in the center, her shoulders just don't get as much attention. She'd had to build them up, to make the automail balanced, to make sure her body could support it, and she'd always hated how masculine it made her look. But looking at herself now, she wonders if that just wasn't in her head.

Green's never been a color she gravitated towards, but the dark color makes the gold of her hair shine, brings out the warmth of her eyes and the pink of her lips.

"You're really good at this," she tells Catherine, throat tight.

Catherine grins. "You are a beautiful canvas, Eden. It was not difficult." Ed's face burns. "Do you have plans for dinner? We could have it at my home. I am, honestly, dying to curl your hair."

Ed hesitates, because her shade of blonde is rather distinctive, then takes a second look at herself in the mirror. No one is going to think she's the Fullmetal Alchemist looking like this. "Okay, yeah. Sure. That'd be great."

~

Catherine knows that Eden is military at first glance, seeing her elder sister in the way Eden stands and moves. She looks young, but she can't be that young, not when she has the stance of someone who's been enlisted for years.

She figures that Eden is looking for clothes to wear outside of her uniform for the first time and something in her softens at how insistent Eden is on keeping certain parts of her body covered. Her siblings have scars too.

When they get to their home, Eden seems slightly surprised at the grandness of her home, but gets over it quickly, which Catherine almost expected. She hadn't looked at a single price tag as they'd been shopping and had paid for her bags of purchases with a nonchalance that spoke of a familiarity with money, although that leaves Catherine to wonder how she ended up in the military in the first place. She hadn't gotten a last name out of her, but Catherine is familiar with most military families, and she would have heard if any of their daughters had enlisted.

"Your bedroom is so pretty," Eden says, looking around at her pink, frilly room filled with flowers and clothes and gilded in gold with a soft wistfulness.

Catherine loves her. "Thank you. Here, sit at my vanity, let's play."

Eden laughs and pulls her hair out of the hasty ponytail she'd pulled it into, letting Catherine run her hands through it and carefully brush out every knot. It's gorgeous, thick and silky and the most wonderful shade that Catherine's never seen on anyone else.

People always act so oddly with her because of her family, even those similarly situated looking down at her for her choices, to be neither an officer nor married to one, but that's just not what she wants right now. It's nice to hang out with another girl that just treats her like a friend.

"MY BELOVED SISTER HAS RETURNED!" booms from what sounds like the first floor.

She sighs.

Eden goes rigid in her chair, eyes wide. "What - why-"

"It's just my brother," she says soothingly, concerned with how pale Eden has gotten. "He's harmless, really."

"Brother," Eden repeats. "Fuck. Fuck! I'm so stupid-"

"It's okay," she says in alarm, "Eden, what-"

She gets to her feet, grabbing her hands and looking at her a desperation that Catherine doesn't understand. "He can't know I'm here. Who I am. Do you understand? It's important."

She doesn't understand. "Eden-"

There's the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way and Eden wrenches herself away, bolting for the other side of the room. She claps her hands together, then presses them against the wall, and in flash of light she's disappeared.

Catherine stares. mouth agape.

She's familiar with alchemy. The skill has been passed down her family for generations.

Eden didn't use a circle.

"I HEAR YOU HAVE MADE A FRIEND, DEAR SISTER!" Alex shouts, flinging open her door and flexing in the doorway. "I WISH TO MEET YOUR NEW COMPANION!"

She picks up a pillow from her bed and lobs it at him, hitting him right in his stupid curl. "We're having girl time, go away!"

"Ah, girl time!" he says. "A storied tradition that has been passed down the Armstrong family for many generations!" He looks around, seeing her empty room, and his eyebrows dip together.

She grabs a makeup brush, holding it up threateningly. "You know what else has been passed down our family for generations? The art of knocking! Go bother Momma!"

"Where's," he starts.

Catherine throws the brush, pointy end towards his eyes.

He ducks, retreating to the safety of the hallway and closing the door just in time for the brush to hit it.

She takes a deep breath, calming her racing heart and smoothing her hands down her skirt. She crosses the room, knocking against the wall and whispering, "Eden? He's gone."

There's nothing for a moment and then there's light and heat and she's looking at the the inside of her house, pipes and insulation, and Eden standing there in the center of it, eyes blown wide and lips trembling.

Eden, who won't let her look at her limbs and doesn't know how to wear girly things and uses alchemy without circles and recognizes her brother from his voice alone.

"I'm sorry," Eden whispers, arms wrapped around herself, trying to make herself small. "I just wanted-"

Catherine interrupts her, reaching out to place her hand over the arm Eden had been careful not to let her touch and is unsurprised to feel hard, unyielding metal. "The art of secret keeping had been passed down the Armstrong family for generations."

Eden's eyes snap to hers and Catherine smiles, squeezing her arm and hopes that she can feel it. Slowly, wondrously, Eden returns it.

[natailiatulls07]

Still the little baby

Arthur Leclerc Charles Leclerc Lorenzo Leclerc Pascale Leclerc & Leclerc!reader

Summary - The Leclerc little sister is going out, much to her brother’s dismay

Warning - violence, crying

-

A random Friday night during the summer night, the little Leclerc was getting ready for a date. She had bought a new dress especially for the occasion, a dress that she hoped her brother wouldn’t see her wearing. With curled hair and little natural makeup, Y/n picked up her small bag.

Checking herself in the body length mirror, before slipping into her heels. Arthur and Charles were watching a movie in the living room, Lorenzo out with his girlfriend and Pascale was over her friends house for drinks.

Stepping down the stairs, quietly as possible so her brothers wouldn’t notice her sneaking out. Taking advantage of the loud sound of violence, Y/n ran to the front door.

Slipping out, the teen made her way into town to meet up with her date.

-

“I had a great night Tom, I’d love to do it again” Y/n could be seen walking down the street after coming out of the restaurant.

Hand in hand the two continued walk down the street. “Me too. You’re a really sweet and hot girl, I’d love to get to know you more” His hand finding her cheek, as they both stared deep into each others eyes.

Leaning up, the two connected lips into a soft kiss.

However that only lasted until a pair of arms curled around Y/n’s waist, pulling her away and into a tight hug. Before she or her date, Tom, could process what happened, a fist collided with his cheek. Stumbling over due to the impact.

“Keep your hands of my baby sister!” Arthur’s angered voice had managed to bring Y/n back to reality, looking over her shoulder and seeing Charles looking just as angry.

Pushing his hand off of her, she made her way over to the slightly confused boy. “Wtf, I am on a date! And you two decide to ruin it for me!”

She pulled up Tom, quick to check his swelling nose which had blood pool down out of his nostrils. “Are you okay?” Y/n had visibly concerned interwoven in her voice.

The two older brothers watched on the couple, both protectiveness and regretful fresh on their minds. They didn’t want their baby sister to date, this was something that meant she was growing up.

“Yeah um…I think um. I think I’m gonna head home…bye” Tom was quick to run off before any of the Leclerc could say anything.

Y/n stood by watching her date run off, holding his nose. She felt tears brimming her waterline.

“Look ange, we were just protecting you” Charles’ sheepish voice piped up. “You never know what will happen. He might of-“ He cut himself off when Y/n raised her head, eyes showing her annoyance.

“Comment oses-tu penser que tu peux faire ça!” She drew in a long breath. “He was really sweet, paid for my meal. And walking me home! Right I’m going home, to my room. So fuck off”

Speechless. The brothers were speechless as the crying girl walked herself home.

-

Later that evening after the three youngest arrived home, Pascale came through the front door. She noticed her two youngest boys sat on the sofa in shame. “What’s got you to so shamefully mes garçons?”

Charles sighed before telling his mother the truth, she nodded along patently. “So now she is in her room. And I think she’s crying.”

Pascale was a bit annoyed that her sons ruined her only daughters date however equally proud that Arthur and Charles had that love for her daughter. “Ok well I’m not mad, truthful I’m proud. Proud that you two are looking out for your sister. However, she is growing up and you have to let her out of the bird nest sometimes”

The two listened to their mother intently. “Right I’m going to go and check on her. I’ll talk to her for you”

-

“Mon bébé please can I come in?” Pascale softly knocked on Y/n’s door. Without a response, she took her entrance. On the bed, lay Y/n still dressed in her outfit and makeup smeared down her face.

She had her childhood teddy bear in arms. The teddy bear Lorenzo got for her when Pascale had announced her pregnancy.

“Maman, all I was doing was going on an innocent date but then they showed up and ruined it” The once dried tears had started to flow once again.

“I know bébé, you nor your date did nothing wrong. It’s just that your brothers are very protective and loving of you, and you’re still the little baby to them. So please take it easy on them, they feel horrible” Y/n nodding her head understandingly.

“I’m going to go see them…” Y/n peeled herself away from her bed, teddy bear in hand. She made her way down the stairs, before reaching the living room.

Almost as if on cue, Arthur and Charles raised their heads to see Y/n walking. They had a sort of déjà vu, their little sister walking up to them clutching her teddy bear.

“I’m sorry…” Her timid voice, a contrast to earlier. Her big brother tackled her into a hug, wanting nothing more than comforting their little sister.

“It’s okay, we just wanted to protect you” Arthur shushed her continuous apologies.

-

That evening, Lorenzo had returned home from his girlfriend’s house to a surprising site. Y/n still holding her teddy bear, her head laid on Charles shoulder and legs across Arthur’s lap, deep into sleep. Unlike their sister, Arthur and Charles were both still awake.

“What happened? What did you guys do?” Lorenzo asked in a hushed manner. Noticing the dried smeared makeup down Y/n’s face.

“Long story…I’m sure she’ll tell you in the morning” Charles replied in the same hushed tone.

-

[norrisleclercf1]

Our Boy

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x SingleMother!Reader

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of smut, slight child abandonment, young parent, polyamorous relationship, fluff, angst, worries of sperm donor taking child, etc.

Requested: Yes/No

Words: 2.9K

Pt.2 The Hunt for Fruit

A/N: hehehehehehe

"Elijah! Don't run ahead of me!" Chasing after a 3-year-old in sandals was not ideal, especially when he's just gotten out of daycare and was hellbent on seeing his fathers. "Mama! Hurry up!" People move out of the way, smiling, seeing the familiar face of the little boy whose heart captivated them.

"Elijah, please. Stop right now, or I'll tell your Papa you're being bad." Elijah stops there, not wanting his Papa to know he's been bad for Mama. "No! Don't tell Papa, please." He cries; seeing his little face break, you almost give in but must stay strong.

If anyone didn't know your story, they'd say he was his Papa's little boy through and through. Same dimples, gorgeous baby blues, sadly those eyes he got from his useless sperm donor, you tried not to say ill words about the man. But, he refuses to be apart of Elijah’s life.

You had Elijah at a young age and were unsure what to do. Thankful for your family and family friends that supported you. At four months pregnant, you had met Elijah's Papa; you told him from the beginning you were pregnant, but he didn't care.

Taking Elijah was the best decision of his life. He always wanted a family, and the thought that this one was premade didn't bother him. "Mama, are Papa and Daddy home?" You stop staring at your son's eyes and smile, patting his hair. "Yes, baby. Daddy and Papa are both home."

Elijah takes off. This time he's stopped when he gets scooped up by a particular uncle with dark hair and a beard. "Uncle Enzie!" Elijah cries, seeing his Uncle Lorenzo. He still couldn't say his name entirely, so he was known as Enzie. Only Elijah could call him that, and after Arthur tried to one day and ended up with a bloody nose, no one dared call Lorenzo that.

"Running from Mama again, little troublemaker?" Lorenzo asks, tucking the boy close and running his fingers over Elijah's stomach, making him screech in joy. "No...Mama said she'd tell Papa if I was bad. But, just wanna see Papa and Daddy." He pouts as Lorenzo watches you sprint down the sidewalk carrying a bag of groceries.

"Need help?" Lorenzo doesn't allow you time to answer as he grabs the bag and carries Elijah the rest of the way. "Thank you, I mistakenly told him they'd be home." You groan, seeing Elijah grow restless seeing a certain Pista in the driveway.

"Rookie mistake." Lorenzo only sits the little boy down once he's in the driveway and watches Elijah bolt for the door and throws it open. "DADDY!" Your heart explodes hearing the mixture of Elijah and your 2nd partner. Lorenzo walks past them as you step in the door and close it, watching, and Elijah snuggles into his Daddy, who showers him with kisses and hugs.

When he joined the mix, Elijah was 10 months old. You didn't mean to fall in love with the man before you, but you did. His boyish charm and how carefree he is just drew me in. He backed off when he realized you had formed a family with one of his best friends.

You sat your first partner down and told them everything, how you felt, how he was with Elijah, that seeing him hold him was the most natural thing you've seen. They didn't care that you felt this way and welcomed him.

"PAPA!" You tear your eyes away to see the 1st real love of your life round the corner. He wore jeans with a plain white shirt and was barefoot, so he's been home for some time. "Hey, check him out later. Why not kiss me?" You giggle, seeing Lando come towards you, smirking.

"Lando." He wraps an arm around your waist and gently pulls you in, kissing your lips while Elijah is distracted.

Your little boy was going through a faze where no one else could kiss his Mama except him. "Lorenzo said he was running from you? That true?" Lando asks. The young Brit wasn't one for discipline. That was more Charles's department than his. But, he was raised with manners and ensures his son is raised similarly.

"Lando, Elijah is excited to see his Daddy and Papa. I can't blame the boy for running. Don't tell Charles till later. Let them have this." Motioning to the little boy running circles around Charles's feet. Lando nods, seeing that Charles has given Elijah a new toy. It was a copy of Pierre's new F1 car.

"Come on, Pascale and the others are in the kitchen cooking." Lando grabs your hands and drags you to the kitchen. Charles looks up and smiles, mouthing the words 'I love you' as you pass him.

"Papa? When do you and Daddy leave?" Elijah was getting old enough to notice when they were gone for long periods. Charles and Lando wished Elijah wasn't noticing, but leaving was getting harder and harder as he grew up. "Not for a while Mon étoile. Did you take care of your Mama for us?" Elijah nods, grabbing Charles's hand and walking to the sounds of his Mama's voice.

"Mama was sick. Grand-mère stayed with us." Elijah says. Charles couldn't help but frown. You were sick and didn't tell them? He didn't like that one bit. "But grand-mère is teaching me French now, Papa." Charles smiles and scoops Elijah up, happy he is learning his tongue. "I'm glad, my little star." Kissing his cheek, Elijah giggles, holds his car close to his chest, and lays his head on Charles's shoulder.

"Papa? Can I come with you and Daddy next?" Elijah loved watching the orange and red cars, but at his age couldn't understand it well. Just knew that Papa and Daddy drove them. "Who'll stay with Mama then?" Walking into the kitchen, Charles kisses his mother and you on the cheek.

Lando smirks and leans out, wanting one or two, but Charles smacks Lando on the back of his head. "Hey! Don't hit my Daddy!" Elijah screams, pulling your attention from the vegetables and glaring at the two. "Oh, buddy. I'm okay. Papa was just playing." Grabbing Elijah Lando soothes the boy, who glares at his Papa. Charles rolls his eyes and walks over to you, pulling you into his chest.

"Hey," Charles whispers, kissing your neck. "Hey to you too. Was the flight long?" Cutting the peppers carefully, trying not to get distracted by roaming hands. "It was okay. So, Elijah told me something." Charles hums, resting his chin between your neck and shoulder. "Really? Charles, he's 3. I'm sure he says many interesting things." Elijah was one to say crazy things and not really think them over; he spoke his mind. Too much sometimes.

"Okay... well. He said you were sick, and grand-mère had to come and stay with you?" You stop cutting and curse Elijah for telling Charles that. If one thing Charles hated the most about traveling was when you were sick by yourself. "Char, I had a cold. Elijah had daycare, then swim lessons, and I was knocked down. So your mother came to help. Really, it was nothing crazy." You explain, not wanting to worry him.

Looking up, you see Lando studying you. Elijah was entertained by Lorenzo, who was making funny faces with crackers. "Alright, look, I'm fine now, okay? Really." You soothe, kissing Charles and move, kissing Lando as well, only to feel two hands push you away. "Mama, your kisses mine," Elijah whines, making you sigh and pick him up.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my little prince. Are you feeling left out?" You whine, kissing his cheek as he giggles, squirming around. "Daddy? Can we play?" Elijah asks, giving puppy dog eyes to Lando, who caves instantly. "Of course. Come on, let's let the adults cook. What do you wanna play?" Lando grabs Elijah, their voices floating down the hall to the playroom.

"Oh, sweetie, before I forget. Here's the mail, a letter for you." Pascale smiles, handing the white envelope. It was heavy, but you noticed the scrawl of your name and knew who it was from.

"What's wrong?" Charles asks, getting worried seeing the look on your face. "It's....it's from him." You mumble. Everyone stops and looks at each other. They knew you didn't have a good relationship with your ex, Elijah's....sperm donor. It's not like the relationship ended badly. He wasn't ready for a child, coming from a wealthy family who saw the child as a smear on the family name.

"Well, what'd the bastard send now?" Charles growls as Pascale glares. "Language, my god Charles you have a son." Pascale scolds. "He's not in the room, Mama. Besides, I don't like that you told that..bastard our new home address." You stare at the envelope and then at Charles. "Charles, the man has a right to know where his son is." You hate saying it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"He's not his son. He's ours." You jump as Lando walks in, standing next to Charles. "I'm sorry to ask this, but Pascale, Lorenzo. Can you give us a moment to talk?" Lando asks them, giving off a tense smile. "Of course, dear. Where's Elijah?" Pascale asks softly. "I put him down for his nap," Lando replies, staring right at you.

They move quickly from the kitchen, leaving you with your two partners. "Lando..only meant," "No, I know what you meant, Y/n. But Elijah is our son. Not his." Lando was never one to get angry. When it came to Elijah and his birth father, it was a new person. "Lando, by law, he's still his son. I have to let him know where he is. That way, he doesn't take Elijah." It was never a worry of him taking Elijah.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't try. "Y/n, if that fucker comes anywhere near him-" Charles growls but takes a deep breath to remain calm for this conversation. "Maybe, we should revisit the adoption talk," Lando suggests. It was a talk brought up late one night when Elijah was lying in your shared bed.

He was lying on Charles's chest. Both of them were asleep, the same look on their face. Mouths opened, and cheeks chubby. Lando had brought it up while the two of you watched them sleep, how similar they looked.

"Lando, we can't. Besides, they only allow one name on the adoption papers. I couldn't possibly choose only one of you." Lando and Charles look between one another and shrug. "It should be Charles," Lando says in such a way that it's not up for discussion.

"Lando!" Both you and Charles shout, but he holds his hands up. "Charles was there before Elijah was born! He's always been there. Besides, Elijah knows we're both his fathers. It doesn't matter whose last name he has." Charles shakes his head no, not liking the idea at all. "Lando, he should have both our names, not just mine. He's your son too." You watch them both, seeing how much they've grown together in the past 2 years.

"Wait, wait! Why are we even panicking? We don't know know what he's even sent yet. Shouldn't we see that before we jump ahead?" Lando laughs as he walks over, grabbing the envelope. "I'm opening it." He rips it open. Moving to Charles's side, you hold his hand, squeezing it. Lando opens the papers and skims over them but stops when he flips the page.

"Love, you might want to see this." He holds the papers out, but you shake your head no. "No, Y/n. Baby, it's not anything bad. I promise." Lando grabs your other hand, pulls you into his side, and shows you the papers. Reading them over, you start to cry reading the words. "What? Will someone tell me what's going on?" Charles snaps, worried that his little boy wouldn't be his for much longer.

"Charles.....He...He's relinquishing his parental rights." Charles freezes but snaps back as he snatches the papers and reads them over. "Oh my god! Elijah!" He drops the papers and bolts through the living room, scaring Pascale and Lorenzo. Stomping up the stairs, he throws open the door. Elijah flinches being woken up so suddenly.

Charles moves and picks him up, holding him close to his chest. The poor boy crying, unsure of what is happening. "Shhhh, Mon étoile. It's okay, it's Papa. I didn't mean to scare you." Charles whispers in his ear as poor Elijah clings tight to Charles.

Walking back down, Elijah's cries turn to sniffles. "Jesus, Charles, did something happen?" Pascale whispers walking up to them and scanning over Elijah. "Mama, we'll talk later at dinner. He's okay." He whispers, arms tightening, causing Elijah to whine as Charles enters the kitchen.

"Dammit, Charles." Lando seethes, taking Elijah from him. "Daddy, Papa scared me." He whimpers, koala hugging Lando as you shake your head. "Oh, it's okay, buddy. Papa just missed you so much. He didn't mean to scare you." Lando whispers, soothing down his son's bed hair. Lando sits him on the counter, Charles right there, stuck to his son's side.

Charles never voiced it, but you knew why he was so scared. It was always a thought in his mind that you'd take Elijah and leave them. He was terrified, having woken up many times during the night to check on Elijah to make sure he was still there.

"Charles, he's not going anywhere." You whisper, pulling his attention away from Elijah as he stares at you. "I've always been scared. Every letter, I've been scared." He whispers, moving to you and hugging you, hiding his face in your neck.

"I know." Lando smiles at the two of you and reaches over, pulling the two of you into him and hugging the four of you together. "Papa, sleepy." Elijah whines, which has the 3 adults laugh. "Why don't you and Papa take a nap together, yeah?" Lando suggests. Charles nods and picks up his little boy, and walks out.

"Lando," But he shakes his head, leaning in his silents you with a kiss. "Don't. He's ours, always has been, and always will be. Besides, we should talk about that pregnancy test. Yeah?" Your eyes grow wide as Lando gets a cheeky look on his face and presses his hand to your stomach. "Cold? Please, you're lucky I got to the master bath before Charles. Hide it for you." You let go of the breath you're holding and giggle.

"I was planning to tell you both later this week. Surprise?" Lando shakes his head, laughing, as he kisses you again. "You know...I want a girl this time. Charles has got his little mini. I want my own." You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting your foreheads together.

"Lando doesn't work like that." You tease, but he snorts, not listening. "Hey, I know damn well I knocked you up." Lando bites back. "Oh yeah? And how do you know that?" You ask cocking an eyebrow. "Because it was our anniversary 2 months ago, and if I remember correctly, I had dibs on your pussy, and Charles was-" You cover his mouth, skin burning at the memory as Lando lets a muffled laugh ring in the kitchen.

"Okay, okay. But, it could still be Charles's." You argue, not even caring who was the one who knocked you up, just playing along. He snorts and removes your hand as his hands squeeze your ass, placing kisses on your neck. "Nope, I was tracking your ovulation. Planned it." It dawns on you, then.

"Lando Norris, you didn't." You laugh in shock. "I asked if you were okay with it. You kept moaning, saying, yes, fuck yes." He mimics your moans from that night as you slap his chest. "Wait...are you okay with this? Fuck, I didn't even think this over. Are you okay with another baby?" Lando asks, worry taking over as you shush him.

"Of course, we have talked about it off and on. Lando, you didn't do anything wrong." You reassure him as the Brit takes a breath calming down. "Thank god." You jump, hearing a ringing, and see that a timer was set for the casserole that Pascale had fixed.

"Dinner is ready." You say, making Lando groan, leaving one last kiss on your cheek. "Damn, I was about to work on my dessert." He slaps your ass, moves to the oven, and pulls the dish out. "Pascale? Your casserole is ready!" Lando yells softly, knowing Charles was knocked out on the couch with Elijah.

Pascale comes in and shoos Lando away, Lorenzo walking in with Arthur, who had just arrived having been at SIM practice. He kisses your cheek and tells you your two boys are asleep on the couch. "I'll wake them, fix the salads, love." Lando wasn't allowed to cook food after burning one of Pascale's fish dishes one night.

He walks in there and stops. Elijah was on Charles's chest, moving up and down slowly due to Charles's breathing. Both their mouths are slightly open, cheeks puffy, and dimples showing. Lando smiles, tiptoeing closer. He crouches down, running a finger over Elijah's cheek.

"My sweet boy." Placing a gentle kiss on Elijah's chubby cheek, he cuts his eyes to Charles and smirks. "Oi, wake up." He stabs Charles deeply in the side, making Charles jerk and groan. "Ass." He curses. "Dick. Come on, dinner is ready." Lando rebuttals; Charles chuckles as he rubs the sleep away.

"Hey?" Charles calls softly, Lando looking at him. "He's our boy. Elijah will have both our names. Okay, no one's last name." Charles whispers, settling this talk once and for all. "Yeah, yeah. But the baby has my last name first." Lando sighs, standing. "Fine, I don't care if the baby does," Charles grumbles, standing slowly with Elijah in his arms.

"Wait? What baby?"

[polakina]

how they kiss you

red dead redemption headcanons #1

hc masterlist // masterlist

wanted to do some rdr2 headcanons since my cod ones have been so fun. send in any ideas. im all ears, petals

rating: explicit

-

every kiss with this man feels like a breath of fresh air

so passionate

he loves catching you off guard with kisses

smiles when he sees your look of bewilderment when he sneaks behind you, planting a kiss on your cheek

likes to hold your face when he kisses you, his hands on your cheeks, holding you close

smells of burnt wood and tastes of cigarettes, but you love it nonetheless

always kisses softly, but deeply, until your head clouds and you can't focus on anything but the moment

favourite place to kiss you is your neck

likes to sit behind you at the campfire when he's taking a break from playing his guitar

he wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck softly every time

you think it's just because he likes to be close to you

but the real reason is because he can feel your pulse quicken under your skin, the beating against his lips speeding up with each kiss

it's your favourite place to be kissed, and he knows it

is the instigator of most kisses

tilts your chin up if you're sat at the camp table to kiss your lips

pulls you into him by your waist if you're passing by and kisses your cheek before going on watch around camp

nsfw (minors LEAVE)

you can tell when he's needy for you just based on how he kisses you

in camp, it's sweet but fleeting

he never lingers

when you're alone, they're deeper, his tongue searching the crevice of your mouth

or even if you're at the campfire with everyone else, and he kisses you until the breath leaves your lungs, you know exactly what he wants

he may love to kiss your neck, but nothing beats kissing his way down your body in the confines of your shared tent

kissing your stomach and your thighs, the noises you make, his lips never want to leave your skin

he likes to bite your bottom lip when he kisses you, mumbling against your neck as he works his way down your body about how much he wants you, all the things he wants to do to you

he kisses you like it's the last time his lips will ever touch yours

fervently, passionately

and nothing but that

his lips are planted hard and firmly against yours, his hands cradling the back of your neck and wrapped around your lower back

always says he loves you between kisses

his favourite place to kiss you are your hands, though

sweet, innocent hand or knuckle kisses are what he really loves

takes your hand in his whenever he's preparing to ride out, and leans down from his horse to kiss the back of your hand

his beard always tickles your skin, and he smiles when you giggle at the roughness of his scruff

he started to kiss your knuckles because you did it to him

his bruised fingers and bloodied knuckles, you kissed them and said it'd make his hands feel better

it was bullshit, but you did it anyway, and he loved it

likes to kiss all over your face, peppering your features in his kisses

he stands taller than you, so likes to tip your head up to kiss you

dips his head with a smirk on his face when he kisses your lips

nsfw (minors LEAVE)

always starts with your hands when you're in the bedroom

kisses each of your knuckles while his eyes remain fixed on yours

loves loves LOVES to kiss you when he's inside you

whether you're on top, sinking down slowly onto him, or whether he's hovered above you

he loves kissing you slowly, deeply, his tongue mingling with yours as his taste of whiskey and smoke seeps into your mouth

loves when you moan into his mouth, that shit could make arthur cum on the spot

especially loves to kiss you afterwards, kissing the tip of your nose as you laid there together, breathing some air back into your lungs

his kisses are hesitant, and you can feel the nerves behind his kisses

he was especially nervous to kiss you the first time. the man was a bag of shakes when he first kissed you

and he's been like that ever since

he's a simple man

his favourite place to kiss you is your lips

sweet innocent kisses from him when you wake in a morning is what fuels you for the day

before he leaves for a job, or to hunt, or to basically anything, will kiss you softly and quickly, almost as if he didn't kiss you at all

they're quick pecks, he doesn't do much more than that

like i said, he's a simple man

is first and foremost a gentleman, will ask to kiss you when you get a moment alone

doesn't like pda, won't do it in front of the group unless he's in a panic from a job gone wrong

that's when he'll hold you tightly, kissing you deeply and whispering how much you worried him

but other than that, will ask for your permission

you've told him countless times he doesn't have to ask, and countless times he's ignored you and asked anyway

nsfw (minors LEAVE)

when he fucks you, he mainly kisses you to keep himself quiet

if he didn't, his groans would fill the tent

the man cannot be quiet

but when he's in that blissful moment of feeling you clench around his cock, he practically begs for you to kiss him

he loves being close to you when the two of you are alone

"fuck. please kiss me, darlin'. you feel too good. i need you"

kisses you with a sense of passion you haven't felt before when he's inside you

bites your bottom lip, your neck, kisses all over your chest and breasts

absolutely obsessed with your body

[writtenfangirl]

Car's Outside

Inspired by Car's Outside by James Arthur!

This went through an extensive rewrite/editing process so hopefully, it's good!

I tried matching up the dates as much as possible so hopefully things don't get confusing <3

Edit: I posted this before qualifying for the Mexico GP thinking “I need something to make me feel better” after the inevitable news that the GP will break my heart only to wake up to news that Charles is on Pole with Carlos at P2 and Danny Ric at P4. I just need this to happen so bad I will literally cry if this happens

I'm packin' my bags that I didn't unpack the last time I'm sayin', "See you again," so many times, it's becoming my tagline But you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than try to catch this flight So many things I'd rather say But for now, it's goodbye

“I’m sorry,” Charles frowned. His breath fanned across her face, his forehead connected to her own. Y/N’s eyes were closed, head tilted upwards as she breathed him in.

Y/N knew Charles had to leave. It’s his job. Unlike most couples, she didn’t have the luxury of spending every minute of every second of every day with her boyfriend. Not when he was a world-famous Formula One driver whose job meant he was in a different city every week. And though Y/N enjoyed the privilege of freely going in and out of every paddock in the world because of her connections, it wasn’t a privilege she could exercise frequently. Not when she was an international lawyer also tasked with jet setting to other countries of the world. 

But they loved each other and so they made it work. Or, at least, tried to.

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said with a rueful smile. Beneath the musky smell of his cologne, Y/N could smell him, familiar and deep, as if the very essence of him had lodged itself in her nose, up her brain, and made a home for himself. “I understand.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Charles sighed, voice deep, as he, too, breathed her in deeply. “I’d rather hold you, here, forever, than catch a stupid plane.”

“You say that now, but when you win a race, you’ll forget all about me,” she teased, opening her eyes to meet Charles’s brilliant greens.

“Not true, cherie. You’re always the first thing I think of when I win. Every win is for you.” And, as if to emphasize the point, he placed a soft kiss on her nose.

Y/N rolled her E/C eyes, a wide smile stretching across her face at the kiss despite herself. “Charles, I’m already your girlfriend. There’s no need for your sweet words to convince me to be yours.”

“It’s the truth, cherie,” he chuckled, “I always think of you first, win or lose. That’s how much I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And then she pulled his face to hers, placing a kiss on his lips that had him grinning against her like a little school boy offered candy by his mother. He pulled her to him tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as her hands wound itself around his soft hair. Kissing him always made her feel so dizzy, like the very air in her lungs left her to make space for him. She didn’t mind it one bit. She’d make space for him in every inch of her if she could. 

But one of them had to be responsible and it certainly wouldn’t be Charles. So, despite not wanting to, Y/N found herself pulling away, breathing heavy as her hands trailed from his head, down his neck and on his chest. She resisted the urge to smirk at finding his heart beating just as fast as her own.

“You’re making it harder for me to leave, cherie,” Charles panted, his hair mused where she threaded her fingers.

“Good,” she grinned as she reached up and flattened his head, “you should miss me as much as I miss you. Now go, Leclerc, or else I’ll receive a phone call from Carlos complaining that you kept them waiting.”

“I’ll see you again, cherie,” he smiled, eyes tinged with sadness.

“Of course you will. Good bye for now, mon amour.”

“Good bye for now.” And with one last kiss, Charles left. The door to their house closed behind him, the click echoing around their empty living room. All Y/N could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and when she was sure that he was far enough away, she finally released a sob that had her chest caving, her heart suddenly feeling like beads inside a hollow rattle.

I'm starin' at the same four walls in a different hotel It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well Oh, but you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than this mobile in my hand But I guess it'll do, 'cause for you I would run up my phone bill

You say I'm always leavin' You, when you need me the most But the, the car's outside

Y/N didn’t think he was serious about getting on a flight back home, especially when she knew how busy he was on Friday on a race week. Not to mention the fact that the race this week was in Mexico, halfway across the world. But here he was, in the flesh, staring at her with those bright green eyes that she adored so much.

Of course, she should have expected this. Charles was nothing if not determined and when he said he was going to do something, he usually did it.

“You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.” Charles said as he barreled into their shared apartment, pushing past her and towards the living room, “I can’t stay long. Joris and Enzo are waiting outside to take me back to the airport.”

Past the front door, Y/N saw Lorenzo leaning against an expensive looking sports car next to Joris. Enzo as lifted a hand in greeting while Joris smiled at her. Y/N returned the greetings before she closed the door and turned to her boyfriend. Her brows were furrowed as she frowned at him, following him to their spacious living room. “What are you doing here? You have a race!”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls and I can’t race properly when I know we’re not okay.” Charles said as he ran his hands through his curls, sticking them up in odd angles. With a jolt, Y/N realized how long his hair was. The last time she saw him, he had just gotten a fresh cut from Pascale but now his hair was touching the nape of his neck. Has it really been that long?

Y/N took a deep breath before she spoke, gathering her patience as into a tight ball like freshly spun yarn. “Charles, this can wait—“

“No, it can’t,” Charles interjected, his words clipped and his tone sharp. “You were the one who wanted to talk and I’m already here so let’s talk. Do you want to end things or not, Y/N?”

“What?” She exclaimed, surprised at the sudden question. She wanted many things to happen but breaking up was definitely not on the list of things she wanted to do with him. Yes, they had their issues but she couldn’t imagine any of them could be solved by ending their relationship. “Of course not! Do you want to end things?”

Charles looked offended at the question. “No! I don’t want to end things. I want us to be together!”

“You sure don’t act like it!” She snapped before she could think about her next words. Part of her wished she could gobble up the words, stuff them back in her mouth before he could hear them but it was too late. Charles’ expression turned wounded, but his words held anger when he spoke.

“I told you about this before we started dating! I told you about my busy schedule. You came into this relationship with both eyes open, Y/N. Don’t act like you didn’t know about how busy I get!”

Y/N looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. She was beginning to get irrationally angry, and though Y/N was usually very good at compartmentalizing, there was something about the argument that had her wanting to scream. “Dammit, Charles! I know I signed up for this when we started dating but I also signed up for the breaks in between! I thought we could make it work then. But even during the breaks, you’re not here! And I make the time and I make the sacrifices to be here so imagine my disappointment when you don’t!”

“I told you to come to my races!” He yelled, his voice loud and echoing in their living room. His face was beginning to flush in anger, green eyes blazing as he spoke to her. “You’re always welcome there. I don’t know why you never come!”

“It’s hard to find any time to come to your races when I planned all of my time off around your breaks, Charles!” She yelled back. “Because, believe it or not, I don’t want to share you! Not when I barely see you as is. When I come to your races, I know you’ll be too busy doing your job to accommodate me and that’s okay. It’s more than fine. I’m happy to watch you do what you love to do. But, I want to at least see you. To feel you and hear you and talk to you. And I can’t do that during a race weekend because you’re busy and I refuse to be the clingy girlfriend trying to catch all of your attention. I planned my days off around your break period because I figured, that’s when I’ll see you more and actually spend some meaningful time together. But you’re never around! I get it, Charles. Ferrari comes first. I know what I signed up for. But lately, they’ve been coming second and third and fourth. When will it be my turn, Charles? Am I even on the list of your priorities?”

“Of course you are!”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Charles looked at her as if she’d struck him. “How can you say that when you know it’s not true. I love you, Y/N. You know that.”

She sighed, some of the fight leaving her body. “I do know that, Charles. I never said you didn’t love me. But just because you love me doesn’t mean I feel loved by you. I want to make things work. I try to make things work. But, sometimes it feels like you’re never around. And, I get it, you have a demanding job—“

“Don’t put all of this on me like your job is easy.” He scoffed, his eyes flashing in annoyance once again. “Your schedule is even more demanding than mine, and I’m sure that with your new job, you’ll have even less time for me.”

“Are you serious, Charles?” She hissed, her anger coming back in droves at his words, “You’re putting this on me? I make the time for you! Rather than seeing my family and friends during my breaks, I’m in Monaco for you and you always cancel on me at the last minute and I never complain! You were the one who missed our anniversary dinner!”

“And you miss my races!”

“You missed my promotion!”

“You never told me about your promotion!”

“How can I when you ditched me on our anniversary!” 

“I told you why I missed it! The upgrades were important—“

“AM I NOT IMPORTANT, CHARLES?” She screamed. Briefly, she wondered if their neighbors could hear them, if Enzo and Joris could but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze at him as she said her next words softly, the fight leaving her body. “The anniversary wasn’t the only thing you missed. You missed my birthday, too. You didn’t even greet me but I took it to stride because I knew you were busy. I didn’t complain until now because I understood. Even when you promised me you’d fly home for your birthday so we can celebrate together and then you cancelled because of the Ferrari party and the interview, I understood. I plan all of my time off around you and never around my family or my friends, who, by the way, live in another country because I know you want to spend time with me. I always understand, Charles. I understand so much that sometimes I feel like I’m always making the sacrifices for our relationship and never you. And whenever I think to myself, I wish he’d choose me for once, it makes me feel like I’m a terrible person because I know you’re out there trying to achieve your dreams just like me and yet here I am, complaining that I don’t get enough time with you. You’re always promising to make it up to me but you never do and—” A familiar lump formed at the back of her throat, choking her words as a searing heat prickled the back of her eyes.

She loved Charles, she really did. But it was beginning to feel like that love was one sided. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what loving a man like him entailed. She expected that they’ll rarely see each other but at the rate things were going, they didn’t see each other at all. And judging by the way Charles was looking at her, with the anger in his eyes replaced by shame, he was beginning to realize that too.

“I missed your birthday?” Charles said taken aback. 

“You were in Canada,” she shrugged miserably, “you were busy. I didn’t think I should remind my boyfriend when my birthday is. If you couldn’t remember, that just means you had more important things in mind.”

Shame coated his eyes as realization dawned on him. “I can’t believe I missed your birthday.”

She sniffled as she swiped at the tears that began to collect in her eyes. “It’s fine—“

“No, it’s not. I am an asshole, cherie,” Charles groaned as he pulled her in his embrace. His chest was warm, his arms even warmer as he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’m always apologizing to you and it’s not right. None of this is your fault. I’m sorry for saying those terrible things to you. I can’t believe you put up with me treating you like this for a whole year. Missing your birthday, and my birthday and our anniversary. Fuck, you’re right and it doesn’t make you a bad person to think those things because you’re right. I’m so sorry.”

Oh, darling, all of the city lights Never shine as bright as your eyes I would trade them all for a minute more But the car's outside And he's called me twice

Guilt, heavy and shameful, curled in his insides. 

No wonder she was so upset with him. Every iota of her fury and more, he deserved for the shitty way he’s been treating her.

“I’m so sorry, cherie,” Charles mumbled against her hair. The smell of her shampoo, as familiar to him as his own was, invaded his sense. “I’m so sorry.”

He could feel her hands begin to wrap around his midsection. It was soft at first, tentative, before she tightened her hold on him like she was stuck in the middle of the sea and he was the lifeboat that saved her. He could feel her leaning her weight against him, the feel of her body a reassuring weight he didn’t realize he lost but was finding his whole life.

“I’m staying,” he said, pressing kisses against her head in between his words, “we’re going to celebrate everything. Your birthday, mine, our anniversary, even your promotion. You deserve as much. You deserve even more. Come fly with me, baby. Let’s go, wherever you want.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N said as she pulled away from him, eyes wide as she peered at him through her lashes.

“I’m staying here, in Monaco, with you.” He said slowly, conviction filling him as he said the words.

She gave him a dubious look. “Charles, it’s a race week. We both know you can’t miss that. It’s in Mexico for crying out loud! That’s why halfway across the world. You need to be back on the plane now if you want to make it back by Sunday.”

“I don’t care.” He said stubbornly. “None of it matters without you. Ferrari already took my breaks. I can sacrifice a race or two” And then his lips pulled into a rueful smile. “Besides, I’m not in the running for the championship anyway.”

Her eyes were still twinkling from the unshed tears, and despite the frown pulling at her lips, Charles had never thought she looked as beautiful as she did today. “But Charles, I have a job to do. I’m set to leave for London two days from now.”

His phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He fished it out of his pocket with a sigh, seeing Enzo’s face flashing on the screen. His arms were still wrapped around Y/N as he answered the phone

“Charles, nous devons partir,” Enzo urged.. (Charles, we need to leave.)

“I’m not going anywhere,” Charles replied, eyes trained on Y/N, who was watching the whole exchange with wide, reproachful eyes. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“Quoi?” (What)

“Cancel my flight, Enzo. I’m not going back. You and Joris can go home. Tell Maman I love her,” he said, ending the call before his brother could protest.

“Charles you can’t just leave in the middle of the weekend.” Y/N said, looking at him like he’d grown two heads.

“Yes, I can.” He said determinedly as he placed his hands on the side of her face, caressing her cheek as he stared deeply into her eyes in an effort to try and make her understand just how serious he really was. “I’m not racing this week. Or next week.”

“You’re going to miss Brazil too?”

“Yes. It’s time I choose you for once. I’ll race back in Vegas and Abu Dhabi but they’re lucky they’ll get even that. I chose them time and time again, cherie, and it’s not right. This is me making it up to you.” He pulled her face to his, placing a kiss on her lips. It was slow and languid, like the winding of a stopped clock that you’re trying to make right. Charles knew how lucky he was to have Y/N and she didn’t deserve to be forgotten, especially not like this. All he’s done was give her empty promises and if there was anyone in the world that deserved the best, it was her.

She pulled away from the kiss, loss of her making him groan. “What about my job? I have so much to do when I get to London. I won’t be in Monaco until the first week of November and the breaks will be far and few in between.”

“Then take me with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” he said before pulling her into another kiss, this one searing and needy. He felt her pull him towards her, closing whatever distance was between them until their bodies lined flushed against the other. He could feel her figure through their clothes, feel the way her breath hitched as his hands found themselves on her waist, thumbs skimming the soft feel of her skin. She gasped at his touch and the feral feeling that seized him had the tether in him snapping. He kissed her harder, hands winding down to the back of her legs and lifting her. Almost instinctively, Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, her feet crossing at his back. Her hands wound themselves around his hair, pulling at the strands in a delicious way that made him shudder. 

How could he choose Ferrari over and over again when they would never be able to make him feel this way? He doubted not even winning a race in Monaco would feel as she good as she does.

His phone rang again, interrupting their moment. Charles groans as he pulled away and Y/N’s laugh rang around their living room. If another phone call interrupts them again, he’s getting rid of this thing. He clicked the green button, Fred’s face flashing as he answered the call with one hand while the other continued to grip Y/N.

“Charles—“

“I’ll see you in Vegas, Fred.” Was the only thing he said before Charles clicked the red button and tossed the phone aside, focusing his whole attention back on his girlfriend.

But he's gonna have to wait tonight I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee Unless you pack your bags You're comin' with me I'm tired of lovin' from afar And never being where you are Close the windows, lock the doors Don't wanna leave you anymore

“You mean it? You’re really skipping Mexico and Brazil for me?” Y/N asked, her voice hopeful as she spoke. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers playing at the strands of his hair.

“I am.” He said with all the seriousness he could muster. “I love you, cherie, and I want to love you by your side. You’re my number one priority and I’m sorry that it took me so long to remember that. I know I’ll have to leave again but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you. I love you, cherie. Will you let me come with you?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled, before she leaning her face to him, continuing their kiss right were they left off. 

[pookietv]

clingy | arthurtv

another little illness drabble because i liked doing the george one!

when you got a call from arthur late at night, it was usually him calling to chat when he was bored, or to tell you some new fact that he had found wildly interesting.

so when you heard a slightly raspy, tired sounding arthur, you were a little taken aback.

"y/n?" was the first thing that came down the phone.

"hi, arthur, whats up?" you said sweetly, before a cough came down the phone.

"this might sound a little silly, but would you mind coming round?"

"uh huh, sure, i don't mind at all," you confirmed straight away, "are you okay? you sound a little raspy," you asked.

"think 'm ill.. know it sounds silly but was just laying in bed and i haven't felt great all day, and then i was just missing you and wanted to see you," he rambles out, and you have to admit it did melt your heart a little.

and thats how you had ended up at his door at 11:23, not all that late but a little strange nonetheless, and you pushed the key into the door, the spare you had been given to the flat, slipping your shoes off and heading to arthur's room, trying to be quiet in case anyone was asleep.

you gently pushed open arthur's door to be greeted by him in his boxers, hands tucked under his pillow and laying on his stomach in a freefall position.

"hi, arthur," you said softly as you made your way into his room, putting down your bag which had very little in it, you rarely brought pajamas round to arthurs, knowing you would end up in one of his jumpers, so the bag always felt hollow filled with only your clothes for the next day.

his head lifted from the pillow and a dopey grin plastered itself on his slightly red face.

"how are you feeling?" you asked gently, and he turned himself onto his side so he could see you properly.

"better now you're here, lovie," he babbled back, and you smiled at him.

"you need any water or anything?" you questioned, before looking at his bedside table, which he had clearly prepared for his illness contingencies, tissues, water bottles, snacks and paracetamol.

"'m good, just couldn't sleep very well and i didn't know if it was cause i was ill and i always sleep better with you so i figured," he trailed off, looking a slight bit sheepish as you giggled, "sorry for asking you to come here so late," he finished, but you shrugged.

"no, don't worry about it, you know i'd always come if it'd make you feel better," you reassured, and he just gently put his head back on the pillow.

"i'll get dressed and then come lay down, okay?" you said gently, and arthur murmured out, "that shirt that you like to sleep in, washed it the other day so it'll be in my cupboard rather then my drawer," he explained, and you nodded slightly, opening the cupboard door and grabbing it, quickly pulling your shirt from over your head and replacing it with his, and discarding your trousers, staying in just your underwear, since arthur's room was often hot.

you slid underneath the covers, adjusting them so they lay comfortably on arthur before you felt his forearm resting lazily against your waist, your head tucked next to his collarbone and his face practically buried in your hair.

"sorry if i'm being a little clingy, think i'm just bad at being poorly alone," he joked a little, but you just laughed back gently.

"i don't mind at all, it's actually quite nice," you said, before explaining, "not that you're ill, just that, y'know, you're clingy," i laughed a little more as you tried to explain myself, "although, i don't hate the voice," you teased.

"my voice?" he mumbled out.

"uh huh, kinda raspy," you joked a little more.

"so you find my pain hot?" he said, half teasing back.

"well, i didn't say that," you laughed.

"i mean, i can try get ill more often if it puts you in that kind of mood," he grinned into the top of your head, and you rolled your eyes.

"oh, shut up and go to sleep,"

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.17 bffs with the rookies+ The Sleepover I

You had called all the rookies and a few others as well, the first one to show up was Lance. You had become friends with him through your uncle and in the short time you knew him, you both had become close.

You ran up and hugged him, making him stumble back a few steps. He laughed, dropping his bags and wrapped his arms around you.

You let go, patting his shoulders, leading him into the house, he motioned to the driver he had rented to bring in the rest of his luggage.

"Holy shit, are you moving in with me?" You gasped as the man brought in two huge suitcases and went back for more.

"You don't want the stuff I got you then?" He raised his brow, sitting on the couch next to you. You shifted closer to the man and nudged him with your shoulders, making him smile.

"Nooooo, I want the stuff, you can leave though," You shrugged.

"Man shut up," he retorted, "I've got to meet with Nando anyways,"

"Well, I'm still your favourite Alonso though,"

"You literally never were," he bit back, making you gasp, you turned your face away, hand on your chest.

"Outta my house man, ungrateful ass-"

"I'm literally doing you a favour." He deadpanned.

You just stared at him for a second and then broke the silence, incapable of staying still.

"You want a pizza?"

"I want to sleep, jet lag fucking sucks," He groaned, even though the time difference between Canada and Spain wasn't more than his f1 schedule, it was a lot.

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you to your room." You got up, him following.

"By when do the others get here?" He asked as you led him up the stairs.

"Well, Arthur's getting here in like half an hour, Logan and Oscar are getting here by like 5, and Mick's gonna be here by 7, we'll start streaming by like 9 I think," His eyes glistened when hearing Mick's name, obviously happy to have someone he was close with.

I opened the door to the guest room and he immediately made his way to the bed, all but passing out.

You went back down, knowing you'd have to open the door for Arthur soon and I didn't want the bell to disturb Lance. So I opened the door and laid on the couch, scrolling on my phone.

I was lost on TikTok, spam-sending random reels to the group chat.

Suddenly someone grabbed the hood of my hoodie and pulled it, making me jump off the couch and fall on the floor dragging the person down with me.

I opened my eyes to find a laughing blonde bent over my torso.

"What the fuck, Arthur!" you yelled, pushing the still-laughing boy off me, sitting up and adjusting my hoodie.

"Well, who asked you to leave the door open?" He retorted, letting himself fall on the couch, I sat back where I was and he turned, placing his head on my lap, "By the way, did you get a roommate or something?" he asked pointing to the bags.

"Nah, that's just Lance," I said, returning to my scrolling.

"Charlies' asking if we'll be drinking today,"

"i dont know why?"

"So he can call the cops in advance,"

"WE ARENT THAT BAD" I cried out knowing it was a lie.

As time went on, I shifted into a more comfortable position, sleep finally taking us over.

I woke up with a start and startled the boy curled beside me. The doorbell kept ringing a second time, loud and harsh.

"What the fuck," I called out, rubbing my eyes and then remembering Logan and Oscar were supposed to be arriving.

I ran to the door, jumping over Lance's bags in the hallway, opening the door to find my closest friends, "Hi! How are y'all?" You asked, helping them with their bags, and setting them next to Lance's.

You hugged the Brunette and then the blonde who wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in, and making you feel warm.

"How was the flight?" You asked, your hand still around Logan's waist, and his around yours.

The three of you spoke as you walked to the living sofa, where Arthur was finally awake enough to be human.

"Hey, Art," Logan ruffled the other blondes hair and jumped over the back of the couch to sit next to him.

Arthur, who was happy to have someone else to lean on, immediately latched onto Logan, pushing the American down, and passing out again.

"He's jetlagged, or something, I don' know," You shrugged when the boy looked at you for an explanation. "I'll go wake up Lance, y'all know where your rooms are right?" You asked and Oscar nodded, the others either sleeping or trying not to move.

When the man finally woke up, and didn't throw pillows at you with scary accuracy, he walked down the stairs behind you to the living room and greeted the rest of the boys.

You all freshened up and called for some food, waiting for Mick.

Finally, the blonde arrived, smiling and surprisingly with no jet lag.

You guys ate a quick dinner and set up Oscar's twitch channel.

You rubbed your hands together maniacally making the boys look at you questioningly, poor guys, you thought, they have no idea whats planned.

its_y/n_love

liked by 301,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri @/lancestroll@/mickschummacher

its_y/n_love never get near the Leclercs when they're sleepy. Ever. Also join Osc's stream ASAP

view all 10,874 comments

username omg girl what?!??

username SHES BACK! I REPEAT SHES BACK

its_y/n_love @/arthurleclerc pls for the love of god let go of that american

Logansargeant I am traumatised and I will be pressing charges, square up. Oscarpiastri Oh yeah? At least you didn't have to cook with that on your back its_y/n_love mans slept on me ONLY I CAN COMPLAIN

Maxverstappen Can attest, they are very touchy

charlesleclerc YOU SAID WE WEREN'T GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT Username not even one sec and shes causing chaos, bbg never leave again Username TALK ABT WHAT?? MR.LECLERC WHAT HAVE U DONE??

Landonorris I would very much like the credits. Thank you.

Mickschummacher 🥰🥰

username boy stand up username OMG MICK!!

Lancestroll We haven't done anything but I feel like I need to call Nando already.

username pookie?? what are you doin here??

Arthurleclerc ALLEGATIONS! FALSE ALLEGATIONS

Oscarpiastri Now why would you lie when we have proof? Logansargent This isn't even the worst of it its_y/n_love It really isn't

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat @allenajade-ite @megatrilss1885 @squirreljoe @jsjcue @s4turnsl0ver @yl90@elijahslover @trouble-sistar @notizzyj @chilwell-mount @hiireadstuff

[thepaperpanda]

A Morbid Jealousy || Low-honor Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Summary: A successful robbery has led to the gang celebrating at the camp, but Arthur gets very nasty when he sees you dancing with John

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v, low-honor Arthur)

Word count: 1442

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Everyone in the gang just sat together and had fun like one big family during this rare moment. A small bank was robbed successfully. Except for Arthur, everyone returned intact with bags full of money.

You were told by Charles that he had decided to return to camp alone. Arthur probably wandered around the town and got into trouble; that's what he does.

As you listened to Javier's guitar and the gang's happy voices singing a song, you had a still full bottle in your hand.

Your look of unhappiness caught John's attention. He patted your shoulder and said, "Hey." You were offered a hand by him. "Wanna dance? I can't dance, but seeing you sad like that is annoying."

Getting up and drinking your beer, you were glad someone was trying to cheer you up. Your arm wrapped around his neck as you rocked along with the rhythm of the music. You chuckled, "Abigail would be jealous."

John wrapped his arm around your waist. "Don't worry about her. I'll deal with her on my own," he spun you around.  Even though John didn't know how to dance, watching Dutch many times helped. "The only thing I want to do is cheer my friend up." he offered you a bright grin.

Taking a moment to let the rhythm control you, you whispered, "You're sweet." and kissed his cheek briefly. While nuzzling his neck, you giggled, saying, "You're a good dancer."

John shrugged and held you tightly as he laughed, "Me? No, I just watch old Dutch dancing all the time."

It was the worst time you could have chosen to dance with John - Arthur returned to camp just now; he hitched his horse and went to the campfire. The moment he saw you and John so close, he stopped in shock. A loud roar from Arthur brought everyone's attention to the direction he was pointing. "What the fuck?"

As you pushed away from John, you whispered, "Arthur..." Your face flushed with confusion as you noticed your boyfriend's consternation; you knew how jealous he could be.

Both of you were approached by him. 

Arture growled at you loudly and grabbed your arm tightly as he turned to John. "I know you are so desperate for every little touch, rabbit, but you could make some fucking standards." Arthur turned to Johna and added briefly, "Martson, you should be fucking happy you have a child, or I would kill you right here and now for even talking to her,"  Arthur said and dragged you away from everyone.

While Morgan dragged you away from the crew, you whispered, "John," as you wanted to apologize to him for Arthur's behavior. Your arm soon slipped from Arthur's strong grasp. "Arthur, you didn't have to be that mean to John. He did nothing wrong."

"He touched you," Morgan growled. "Undress," Arthur ordered as he closed your tent's flaps.

"Yes, because we were dancing!" You reminded him and cocked your brow at his order. "Why?"

Arthur yelled, "Undress, or I'll rip your clothes off myself! I don't care what you two were doing. You are mine!"

Unbuttoning your dress, you shook your head. You said firmly, "You overreacted, Morgan," as you let the dress fall to the floor. "Happy?"

As he put away the gun belt, he said, "On your knees."

Slowly getting down on your knees, your eyes on his face, you shivered but obeyed. He was clearly pissed off, so you decided not to argue with him anymore.

I'm so surprised you're so quiet. Suddenly, you are not defending John," he smiled. "You are in the right place now, rabbit," Arthur purred and ran his hand down your hand before grabbing it tightly. "You are mine and only mine. Do you understand?"

Liking your lips, you nodded eagerly. "I belong only to you, Mr Morgan," you agreed, closing your eyes for a while.

He quickly opened his pants and purred, "Now this is a good answer. You've got to show me how sorry you are."

As you looked at his face, you reached into his slightly worn jeans and pulled his half-erected cock out; you spat on its tip and pumped your hand over its shaft.

In his low grunt of approval, Arthur watched you like a hawk; he let go of your hair for now and placed his hand on your nape.

Trying to suck his dick at the same time, you bobbed your head back and forth and used your palm to pump over his cock. Your hand squeezed his shaft as you sucked on his balls.

Arthur purred, "That's right, girl. For once, you behave like you should."

You were suddenly picked up by him; he flipped you over to your stomach and put you on the cot. 

"Was touching that bag of bones even worth it, rabbit?" Arthur growled at you.

Apparently he was hot for you; you blinked and blushed as he pushed you onto the bed. Your butt was raised a bit and you shook it for him. "Fuck me," you begged.

He roared, "I asked you something!" You felt Arthur squeeze your throat.

"It wasn't," you whispered.

"Louder! I can't hear you!"

You growled loudly, slipping your hand beneath you so you could slip your finger into your aching pussy. "It wasn't!"

He sighed, getting up from his cot to search for his bag. "You really love to annoy me, woman. How can I even put up with you."

Arthur pulled out his rope and returned to you; he took both of your hands and tied them behind your back. "It might teach you how to behave," Arthur said proudly as he moved his hand along your spine as his free hand tugged his jeans fully off.

When he was doing things like this, you always shivered, but eventually, it turned you on even more; you simply loved to be mercilessly manhandled.

While his tip moved through your pussy lips, Arthur teased, "You got a problem with moving, darlin'?" He hummed and slammed into you, pushing as hard as he could. "Ain't so brave anymore, huh? You are always so smart until I get you into my hands.

You screamed, "Oh, God!" When pleasure hit you hard, you rolled your eyes and begged, "Untie me, Arthur! I need to touch you!" 

His member was immediately squeezed by your walls.

"Nah, I don't think so," he smiled and thrust deep into you.

His thrusts became deep and hard. "You won't play around with fucking Marston," Arthur growled the last part lowly.

Let out a long moan as you stick your bun up to him. You cried out through parted lips, "I love it when you fuck me well."

"Moan, I want everyone to know who you belong to, and I want that bag of bones to know how well I fucked you," Morgan whispered into your ear after leaning forward to you.

"I'll scream your name if you untie me!" You begged. His thrusts made you feel slick and wet, along with your juice pouring down your thighs.

Grabbing your hair, Arthur lifted your head. "Now, you ain't the one to make the conditions, so you better scream without any stupid ideas or I will fill you up with my cum and leave you here, all tied up for everyone to see."

You screamed, "Arthur! Oh, just fuck me, honey! Just like that!" You rolled your hips for him to meet his thrusts. "I belong to Arthur Morgan!"

After those words, he started moving fast and hard, trying to make you cum hard around his thick cock. "Now you're a good girl," Arthur purred, biting your neck. Choosing such a place, he knew you would have difficulty hiding it.

As soon as he bit into your neck, your walls tightened around his member so strongly that he was unable to back away. You dripped juices down your legs when you cum hard around him. "Fuck," you trembled.

"Such a good girl, I'm gonna enjoy watching you walk funny tomorrow, darlin'," Arthur whispered into your ear and filled you with his cum.

As your vision blurred, you moaned and waited for him to untie you.

Arthur let out a happy sigh and got up. Putting on his clothes, he said, "That was fun. What do ya think, darling?"

You smirked at him and asked, "Untie me. And it was fucking brilliant. You were amazing."

"I know I was," he giggled and tucked his gun belt into his waistband. The tent flaps were raised by Artur without a word, and he left to join the still-going party, leaving you tied up on his cot.

[spoonsand]

PART 2

RIP RED DEAD CHARACTERS YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED

Dutch- podcasts (making his own) + AITA Reddit stories, Coca Cola, monocles

Hosea- bingo, 70s disco music, swing dancing

Arthur- little toy dinosaur dig kits with the teeny tiny shovels, trampolines, Nanaimo bars

John- remote control toy cars, divorced dad music, Mountain Dew

Lenny- antiques, Epic Rap Battles of History (he would duel Sean and sometimes Karen),

Sean- roblox trolling, bell bottoms, GTA

Strauss- flootie pajamas, ebeneezer Scrooge outfits, cold calling

Trelawney- earl gray tea, crashing weddings, throwing pies into people’s faces

Charles- flower crowns, rock tumblers, surfing

Pearson- papas’s games (pizzeria, freezeria, ect), embroidery, floral scents

Micah- court ordered anger management, Andrew Tate, FailArmy videos

Javier- zyns, woodworking, eyebrow slits

Kieran- Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, model trains (him, Sean, Lenny, Arthur, Tilly and Sadie would be absolutely mystified by the set Susan bought him)

Bill- short shorts, petting zoos, animal shelters

Uncle- Leslie Neilson films, heating pads, aligator meat

Reverend- online gambling, Pink Whitney, dap pens

Susan- wine, gold hoops, edibles on a late Friday night (shares with Dutch)

Mary-Beth- choose your own adventure books, Our Souls at Night/The Book Club/And so It Goes, lip lining

Molly- olives, grey’s anatomy, Butterscotch ice cream

Karen- scary movies, WWE, flip flops

Abigail- sparkling water, tiny hand bag sized dogs, face masks

Sadie - butterfly knife, industrial piercing, The Hells Angles,

Tilly- baseball, Star Wars, Volkswagen beetles

Jack- Roblox, Scooby doo movies, tootsie rolls

Bessie- Fleetwood Mac, block parties (she’d host her own), Subway

Annabel- Madonna, waist beads, jelly shoes

Issac- lava lamps, Lego video games, Trelawny

[twola]

Wanted to say I looovvve how you write Arthur! Since you’re taking requests I was wondering if you’d do something like the nsfw alphabet for him or just general headcanons for him? Thank you:)

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. Thanks for the nudge! For reference, our boah is high-honor for this.

Drop a line and tell me which one is your favorite!

NSFW Alphabet : Arthur Morgan

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s usually a panting, groaning mess after orgasm, but as soon as he catches his breath, he’s peppering your face with kisses, heaping praise upon you.

“Such a good girl.” He’ll rumble in those low timbres, his deep voice sex-hoarse as he gently wipes his spend from your skin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Arthur loves the gentle slope - the long curve of your neck. He loves kissing it, suckling at it, leaving marks and bruises as he not so secretly enjoys you having physical signs that you’re his.

He’s not one to think much of himself, he’s known to degrade himself, but if you were insistent on an answer,  he would say his arms. Broad and strong from years of hard living - heaving hunted animals over his shoulder, roping horses, beating men. His arms draw you into the line of his body, wrapping around your waist and keeping you secure and safe.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not an idiot. Not at this point in his life. Having had gotten a girl pregnant and living in proximity to John’s stupidity with Abigail, he knows that the temporary high of spending into a woman wasn’t worth the risk of conceiving a child.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, want, so much, to spend within your warmth, not to pull himself from you jerkily.

If he were another man, in another life, not running in an outlaw gang - he would love to stay inside, to create life within you - to watch you grow and birth his child. If only. If only.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Big, bad gunslinger - outlaw - criminal, god, he would never hear the end of it if others knew how he whimpers as you nudge that spot beneath his testicles, your fingers pressing against that skin, and it feels so good he could cry. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While in his later adult years, he has had fewer partners, in his youth, Arthur was a wild stallion. Rolling into a saloon with a sly smile and a bag full of gold coins from a robbery, working women flocked to him, and he certainly enjoyed their company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Arthur certainly enjoys any way he can have you - and he certainly has enjoyed an array of positions - holding you up against a brick wall in a back alley in Saint Denis, bending you over the table in an empty cabin, watching you gyrate above him- riding him as he fucks up into you.

But deep down, this grisled outlaw is a romantic at heart, though he will never admit it.

He loves the most when you’re underneath him, when he can see your pretty face when you come, when he can spread himself out over you, when you cross your ankles over his hips to draw you in.

In this cruel, hard world, he loves you safe and secure beneath him, where he can shield you from all of its ugliness, if only for a few moments.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur’s sense of humor is notoriously dry, and frankly, it's not brought to the bed, or whatever surface he’s having you on.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, it is 1899. And he’s a man that lives out in the wilds. Baths are hard to come by.

But you do enjoy trailing your fingers along the trail of dark hair that begins at his navel and spreads across his pelvis - straight to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Arthur worships you as the two of you fall into bed with one another. God, he told you he loved you before he slept with you - of course the moment is thick with emotion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sure, if a job takes him away from you for several days, he’ll get lonely. Arthur will pull the flaps on his small tent and lay himself on his bedroll, unbuttoning his union suit and taking his length in hand, closing his eyes and picturing you there: the way you whine into his ear. The way you clutch at his shoulders, the way you roll your hips to take him deeper. The way you grit out his name as you’re reaching the edge, the way your cunt pulses around him-

He spills over his hand, moaning as he comes down from his high. As he catches his breath and wipes off his hand before tucking himself away, he knows, he knows, that he will have to have the real thing as soon as he returns to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

For someone with a mind-numbingly high bounty on his head, he should not like getting tied up so much.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not that he has many options most of the time, his cot within his tent being the normal spot, but he does love to have you in a big bed, naked and squirming on fresh sheets. He takes you to hotels when he can, enjoying the ability to press you down into a soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There’s nothing that gets his blood pumping like successfully pulling off a heist. Riding back into camp loaded down with riches, swinging down off his horse, after depositing the take, he will seek you out, taking you hand in his and kissing it gently before walking you back to his tent and laying you down on his cot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He may be a killer, a criminal, a bad person. But he does have a code. He has never and will never force himself on a woman. He would never force you to do anything for him if you said no, even though it would be more than easy enough for him to overpower you.

Fortunately for him, you don’t like saying no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Christ, you wonder as you throw your head back in the pillow, was there anything this man couldn’t do well? He’s between your thighs suckling at your clit, tongue lapping at your entrance, pressing inside you as his warm breath ghosts over your core. Arthur loves diving between your legs, even drawing up your skirts out in the wild and tasting you. And god, is he good at it.

While he likes to give, give, give, he cannot help but groan as you sink to your knees in front of him, babbling near incoherently as you suck his cock until he spills hot and fast down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the setting. If he’s forced to go quickly, it is a brutal, punishing rhythm. But oh, if he’s got you in bed with nothing but time, he savors each slow, long stroke, and the whimpers that drip from your mouth like ambrosia.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his favorite. He’d rather take his time to painstakingly take you apart - to feel every inch of you against him, to see and taste and love you. To give you the attention he believes fully you deserve.

But sometimes, the man just needs to be inside you, sheathing his cock in your warm, wet cunt. With your clothes still on and undergarments shoved to the side, Arthur groans as he sinks inside you, wanting never to leave. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try just about anything - unless it has the ability to hurt you. You hear talk in the saloons from working girls of acrobatic positions that you tell him about while blushing. He’ll try, as long as its not something that verges on dangerous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

“I ain’t a teenager any more.” He’ll grumble, but he always, always, draws you to come multiple times before he actually does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, it's 1899. Besides, he thoroughly enjoys bringing you over that edge with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You wouldn’t say he likes to tease you, but you find it completely unfair when he refuses to let you touch him, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you before he is ready to come himself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Growing up in an outlaw camp, in close proximity to everyone, Arthur knows how to be quiet. But the second he gets you away, whether out in the wilds or a hotel room, he grunts and moans into your ear, his gravelly voice fading into primal noises the closer he gets.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know why he allowed it to happen - he should have been the one teaching you to shoot. Not Javier.  

Or maybe it’s a good idea. He’s not sure how much learning would get done. Not after he’s seen you aim a repeater, tensing against the recoil. 

He’d be bending you over the fence that Javier has lined up empty bottles on, pressing inside of you, his little gunslinger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As much as he’d deny it, Arthur is not diminished at all when stripped of his clothing. While he’s a bit self-conscious about his stippled and scarred skin, you fully enjoy tracing his life’s story with your fingers or your lips.

Arthur is not a small man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, muscular and solid. The first time you fish his cock from his union suit, a flash of panic shoots through you - how the hell were you supposed to take all of this?

You shouldn’t have worried, considering how much Arthur would work you open with his fingers and tongue before sinking into you - the stretch of him entering you never hurts.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Now, sometimes unfortunately, much like coffee, Arthur awakens and needs to have you to seemingly function. Sleepy, gentle sex as the sun rises lets him get out of bed on the right foot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even after bringing both of you to orgasm, panting, breathless, he won’t fall asleep right away. He’ll always have enough energy, at the very least, to clean your skin of his spend and draw you into his embrace, winding your legs around each others’, and holding you close until you both fall asleep, completely satiated.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Snacks of Us

Pairing: No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Texas-native Joel finds out you've never been to a Buc-ee's and needs to fix it immediately. That's it.

Warnings: Just fluff! Kisses. Pet names.

Other stuff: Reader is addressed as her, but most other descriptions are avoided. Joel is taller than the reader. Can be read as plus-sized, but not mentioned.

Word count: 1.1K

I went to Buc-ee's today and my imagination ran wild. Do with this what you will lol

__________

"Whaddya mean y'ain't never been to a Buc-ee's?" Joel asked, incredulously.

"Joel, I'm not from Texas. How the hell would I know what Buc-ee's is?" You replied.

"Y'don't even know what it is!? That's it. Grab your purse, darlin'. We're gettin' you to a Buc-ee's." 

"Have you noticed your accent slips out more when you're all worked up about Texas things, Joel? It's cute."

"No, I haven't. Now, let's go. You're gonna love it. It's the biggest gas station y'ever seen." His eyes grew wide and he demonstrated the vastness of Buc-ee's with his arms.

"Wait… it's a GAS STATION? You're taking me to a gas station for our date?" You raised your brow at your boyfriend.

"Just trust me, darlin'. You'll love it." He pulled you by your hips and placed a kiss on your reluctant mouth.

You sighed. "Hmm… fine. But can we at least get lunch while we're out?" You batted your eyelashes.

"Course. What do you think we're doin' at Buc-ee's?" He winked.

"Joel!" You gasped. "I am NOT eating some shriveled up gas station hot dog that's been sitting out all day." Your mouth gaped open and you crossed your arms.

"Just trust me!" He grabbed you by your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder.

"Joel!!!" You squealed, giggling and smacking his back. "Put me down! You're gonna hurt your back! I'm too heavy."

"Please, sugar. You weigh less'n my work equipment," he smacked you on the butt.

You scoffed, "yeah right."

Joel set you in the passenger seat of his truck. "Well, y'are. At least until we fill y'up with some beaver nuggets," he winked, giving your belly an affectionate pat and closing the door.

"Beaver nuggets???? Joel! What is that?" You laughed as he rounded the truck toward the driver's side.

_____

Joel pulled the truck into the Buc-ee's parking lot. 

"This. Is.. a gas station?!" You stared, mentally counting the amount of gas pumps and eyeing the giant building with a large beaver on the wall.

"Told'ya to keep an open mind! Let's go," he hopped out of the truck.

The two of you walked in and your mind was blown. They had everything, all with a cute little beaver on the label.

Buc-ee's chips. Candy. Cookies. Fudge. Sandwiches. Coffee. Every soda imaginable. Beaver nuggets, which Joel grabbed two bags of.

He pushed a cart as you ran around like a kid at Christmas. "Babe! Look at this cute little Buc-ee plushie!"

"I know, darlin'. I told'ya you'd like this store." He smiled affectionately at you. You tossed the stuffed beaver into the cart.

"Whoa, whoa, Sugar. Our house can't hold many more stuffed animals, it's practically oozing fluff as we speak."

"Oh shush, Joel. I need him," you said while throwing two sets of matching Buc-ee pajamas in the cart.

"Two?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at the tags.

"One for you. One for me," you kissed his cheek, skipping merrily toward the hoodies.

Joel shook his head, too lovesick to object to the matching flannel pajamas covered in cartoon beavers.

An older gentleman walked past Joel and gave a look from Joel with the cart, to you holding up several hoodies and comparing. "First time?" The old man laughed.

"Unfortunately," Joel rolled his eyes, laughing. "I underestimated her shopping ability when I decided to take her here."

"Been there," the old man pointed to an older lady, presumably his wife. "I'm Arthur." He shook hands with Joel. "My wife Marlene and I have been comin' here for years and she's the same way." He looked at her lovingly. "You two remind me a lot of us when we were younger. You make a lovely couple."

Joel smiled and looked over at you, where the older woman, Marlene, had walked up and began talking to you. Your smile lit up, and the old lady clapped her hands together once, excitedly helping you decide between two sweatshirts. Your eyes found Joel and you both shared a smile. 

Joel looked back at the old man and grinned. "Thank you, sir. She's definitely a keeper." The old man patted Joel on the shoulder, leaving to meet up with his wife and kissing her on the cheek as they walked away.

You scampered over to Joel, holding up both hoodies. "I couldn't decide, so Marlene suggested I get both," you giggled.

Joel rolled his eyes, unable to stop the smile on his face. "Alright, throw 'em in the cart. But we better get outta here before I have to take out a loan."

"Thank you for taking me here, baby. I had a lot of fun, and I'm sorry I gave you a hard time earlier," you pulled his collar, lowering his face so you could kiss him on the lips.

"Anytime, sugar. I'll never get tired of seeing that smile." He kissed you back, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

"Now, whaddya say we go grab a couple sandwiches and sodas, then head back and watch movies in these matching pajamas the rest of the day," Joel suggested.

You nodded excitedly, thrilled with your boyfriend's willingness to participate in your shenanigans. "YES!"

Joel headed towards the checkout counter, struggling to reel you in from looking at more merch. He already took out a large deposit for the ring hidden in his dresser drawer, and this was easily going to cost at least a hundred more.

The two of you walked to the truck, him smacking you on the butt as you climbed in the passenger seat while he held the door open. Shaking his head, he thinks back to the older couple. How Arthur said you reminded him of them in their younger days. Sitting in the driver's seat, he smiled at you, taking in your features.

"What?" You asked, giggling and running your hand through the curls by his ear. 

"Nothin' darlin'. Just thinking about us and how much I love you," he smiled.

"I love you too, Joel" you pressed a kiss to his lips, running your hand down to his neck and pulling him in deeper.

"Thank you again for today," you grinned, pulling away.

"Anytime, Sugar. There'll be plenty more where that came from," he replied, stealing a quick glance at your empty ring finger. Maybe tonight will be the night, he thought.

"Think we'll ever be like Arthur and Marlene?" You asked him, taking a slight risk at the question of your future while interlacing your fingers with his right hand.

He looked over at you, kissing your knuckles. "I hope so, Sunshine." He kissed your ring finger. "I hope so."

___________

So anyway, yeah I might have a problem lol. But I hope you liked this. Let me know what you think ❤️ thanks for reading.

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Protective and Proud

~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: arthur morgan X female reader

drabble: arthur being protective

summary: when arthur and reader’s night is so rudely interrupted, arthur has to show his protective side.

a/n: sorry for the short writing hiatus, school kicked my ass this semester. this was originally just meant to help me get back into the swing of writing, but i figured i’d share in case someone enjoys it :)

word count: 1,652 words

~~~~~~~~~~

You impatiently shifted from one foot to the other, back pressed against the wooden hitching post just outside the sheriff’s office. The sun had already started its decent below the mountains in the distance a while ago, leaving the street lamps to cast a soft yellow glow on the town of Valentine. A few people still meandered about in the street, but for the most part the town was empty. Save for the saloon of course, you often found yourself glancing that way to observe the drunken citizens coming in and out of the swinging saloon doors, laughter and music filtering out into otherwise quiet night.

You fished in your pocket for your watch, glancing down at the little hands that read 7:30. Arthur had told you to meet him here at 7 p.m sharp for a drink or two. You shoved the watch back into your pocket, sighing dramatically, though you urged yourself to be more patient. You can’t even blame the poor man for being late, you know he works himself half to death each day. Hell he probably hasn’t even had time to glance at his watch today. You pulled a cigarette out of the pack in your saddle bag, lighting it up. You absentmindedly stroked your horse’s neck as you puffed a cloud of smoke into the cool night air.

“Thought you was quitting?”, A gruff voice from behind you interrupted your thoughts.

The sudden intrusion made you jump slightly and you quickly turned to see your cowboy walking towards you, reins in hand and the usual smirk plastered to his handsome face.

“Yeah well… maybe next week.” You grinned with a shrug, cigarette dangling out of the corner of your mouth.

Arthur approached the hitching post, tying off his horse alongside yours. “You know…”, he reached forward, pulling the cigarette from your lips and placing them between his own, “these ain’t good for ya darling.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, and you were quick to close the gap between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his thick torso, burying your face in his chest. “Missed you.”

Arthur’s hands snaked around your waist, one hand gently stroking your back. “I missed you too sweet heart. Sorry I was late, Marston had me running all over the county chasing some damn sheep.”

You released your grip on him, grinning at the obvious annoyance that laced his voice. “I’m scared to even ask.”

“I’ll tell ya about it over drinks, c’mon.” Arthur snuffed out the stolen cigarette and motioned towards the lively saloon. You happily made your way towards the commotion and the smell of liquor, Arthur following closely beside you.

Upon approaching the saloon doors, Arthur pushed one open and held it for you, allowing you to lead the way. The sudden turn of heads and lingering eyes from the men in the bar were not lost on him, far for it actually. Though you always seemed to either not notice or not care about the curious eyes of strangers, Arthur actually enjoyed it, he absolutely loved being seen with you.

Arthur knew you were so much more than just something pretty to hang on his arm. However, he couldn’t help but to love the feeling he got when he saw the way other men looked at the pair of you, though he’d never admit it. The way they oozed jealousy watching you dote over him, kiss on him, hell even just stand next to him, it was something he’d never experienced before. Arthur never thought there was much about himself to be proud of you. But you, you made him feel special. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to be able to boast about his claim on you. You were his and he was going to make damn sure everyone in here knew it.

Arthur placed a large rough hand upon the small of your back, keeping you close to him as he guided you towards the edge of the bar. He was quick to get the bar keeps attention, ordering you both a glass of whiskey. Arthur was happy to chatter a long with you while you both nursed your drinks. He’d barely seen you all week and was eager to catch up with his favorite girl.

Though the bar was loud, you were only focused on Arthur. The way he intently listened every time you spoke, the way he would often lean in closer just to hear you a bit better, the way his arm always found it’s way around your waist: he was perfect to you in every way. You leaned up to pepper a few kisses along his bearded jawline as he spoke. Suddenly remembering Arthur’s promise from earlier, you quickly pulled away.“Oh! Arthur the sheep! You never told me what the hell you were doing with the sheep.”

Arthur had never met anyone who took such an interest in him and his stories before. Perhaps that’s why he’s always been so taken with you, you seemed to be one of the only people in the world who wanted to know more about him.“Well, Marston had this bright idea, and that’s never a good thing…” he chuckled a little at his own joke, promoting you to roll your eyes. “He figured that we could make a pretty penny by-“

“Miss? ‘Scuse me miss!” An extremely intoxicated man stumbled his way beside you at the bar, much to close for your’s or Arthur’s liking.

“Yes?”, confused, you turned to face him. His face was red and his eyes glassy.

“Miss I-I couldn’t help but to notice you. I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink.” His words slightly slurred together and he propped one elbow up on the bar clumsily.

Still confused you glanced from the man to Arthur and back again. “I’m sorry mister but I’m spoken for.” You tried to be as polite as possible and you figured the man was just too drunk to notice you were there with Arthur.

“Spoken for by who?” The man dramatically studied the room.

You nodded up to Arthur who was standing protectively behind you, so close his chest almost pressed to your back.

“You see… that’s what I was a-suspectin’. But then I thought to myself there was jus’ no way a pretty woman like you’d be here with him.” The man leaned in a little closer to speak just to you, a devilish grin on his face.

You were quick to furrow your brow in confusion.

Arthur chuckled a bit behind you. “Alright buddy you’ve made your point. Now if ya don’t mind we’d like to enjoy the rest of our night”. Arthur did his best to keep it light hearted, but it was hard to disguise his dour tone.

The man made no indication he had heard what Arthur was saying, instead he proceeded to rake his eyes over you. “Miss… I will say, you’re even prettier up close.”

You felt Arthur’s arm around your waist tighten and his chest press into your back as he leaned slightly closer to this nuisance of a man.

“You got fuckin’ hearin’ problems or somethin’?” This time Arthur’s voice was a bit more stern and you could tell he was growing annoyed at the continuous interruption.

This time the guy glanced up at Arthur, but only for a second, for his gaze was back on you in an instant. “Look miss, you give me 5 good minutes and I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.”

Arthur pulled you behind him, positioning himself between you and the drunken bastard. “She said she was spoken for. Now are you gonna fuck off or am I gonna have to embarrass you in front of the lady?” Arthur nodded back to you.

His voice had deepened to that gravely tone he used in very few scenarios, and you found yourself growing a bit hot under the collar in response. You loved when he spoke like that, it damn near sent chills up your spine.

The man raised his hands defensively, “Alright alright… was just having some fun mister.” Deciding you weren’t worth the brawl that was sure ensure, he began to stalk off.

Arthur was quick to grab ahold of the man’s shoulder, pulling him back and glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood fella. Come back over here and I will break your god damn jaw.” Arthur spoke low, attempting to shield you from his harsh words. He shoved the man on his way and turned to give his attention back to you. “Ya okay darlin?”

You heard it all, and the butterflies proceeded to flutter in your stomach. Seeing him so protective of you, it did things to you that you couldn’t explain. You nodded and turned to face the bar, attempting to hide the blush that had crept up on your face.

Arthur moved to stand behind you, arms on either side to cage you against the bar. “You sure do cause a lot of trouble y’know.” He teased, stooping to affectionally press a kiss to your temple. “Can’t take ya out nowhere.” Arthur smiled to himself. He was so proud to be a protector, and even prouder to have something as special as you to protect.

You knew Arthur was trying to be sweet, as he was always extremely sweet. However, the only thing you could think about was his deep timber voice, his willingness to fight for you, to kill for you, and of course his looming figure pressed up behind you. You tried not to dwell on the fact that there was a growing pressure between your legs, and instead pressed your glass to your lips and took a big swig. You cleared your throat awkwardly, “You uh- you still owe me a sheep story”.

[atom-writings]

Can I request the allies helping their S/O when their depression keeps them in bed for a few days, which isn't normal for them.

hetalia allies when their s/o is going through a depressive episode

1.8k words ~ gender neutral scenarios

tw: theyre not always the best but they figure it out (:

a/n: hope this was ok. if u want just like, comfort, thats cool and i can do that too seperately (: but anon i totally get i got crippling depression too. were alll in this togeeethherrr

America

Depressive episodes were nothing out of the usual for you. What was out of the usual though, was just how horribly this one was hitting you. But it seems like the person who it hurt the most, was Alfred.

Once you began spending the majority of your time in bed, he began to bother you incessantly. It'd be more annoying for you if it wasn't clear just how much Alfred was panicking.

Every day he returned from home to find you in your miserable state, he would question your sudden episode over and over again until one of you fell asleep. He offered to take you somewhere, to buy you everything, anything to get you back to normal. No matter how much you insisted that none of that would help, he continued.

That was until one day, upon his return from work, he didn't immediately come up to interrogate your lack of motivation. From your shared bed, you could vaguely hear him fumbling around downstairs. After a while, his footsteps finally echoed up the stairs.

Your door creaked open slowly, revealing Alfred awkwardly carrying bags of snacks as well as a TV. He rushed forward to throw everything on the bed before starting to hook up the TV in front of the bed.

“Alfred?”

“Yeah?“

”What are you doin'?“

”Making this room fun to be in,” He answered bluntly, but his tone was kind.

After a minute, he finished setting up the TV and crawled into bed with you. Before you could say anything, he pulled you flush against his side.

“Staying in here is no good for you, but at least there's ways to make it... less bad.” He told you softly.

You took a moment to respond, ”Can... can you stay in here with me?“

”I'll stay in here until you're ready to leave, K?“

England

As soon as your illness began to rear its ugly head, Arthur took notice. It's not like it hadn't happened before, after all. The unusual eating habits, the exhaustion, how less excited you would become over things you love, it's all typical. So he would help the way he usually did.

If you're too tired for work or school, he gets you out of it. If you're hungry, he makes whatever you want anytime. If you're slacking on chores, he makes up for it two-fold.

The entire time you spend gloomily sitting on your phone or watching TV, Arthur is running from place to place in a panic. It's clear why, he's just desperately trying to ”solve“ your sadness. After all, over his many periods of depression, he always works himself to the bone to get through them. He struggles to understand how you can just... sit there.

But of course, that's not how human depression tends to work. Seeing him so motivated did nothing but make you more insecure about your own sudden ”laziness.” Living in an incredibly clean house only helps for so long until it starts feeling weird.

The only place safe from his worried frenzy was the bedroom, where you lay nearly all day. It was quiet there, at least. Not frustrating like everything else. That was until Arthur interrupted your silence by joining you in bed with a huff.

“Love, you've been in here all day.”

You didn't respond, simply nodding and rolling to face away from him.

“What's wrong?”

Still, no response.

He grabbed your shoulder lightly, trying to pull you to face him.

“What is it?”

“You know what's wrong.”

He sighed, before laying down as well. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, his soft breath hitting the back of your neck as his heart beat against your back.

“I guess a better question would be... do you want to talk about it?”

You pause, ”Not really...“

”Well, I'll be here with you until you do.“

”No running around?“

He chuckles, ”No, I'll stay here. After all, you're strong... I imagine this won't last forever, right Love?“

France

Francis is a sensitive person, but most importantly he's an emotionally intelligent one. He notices as soon as your depression begins to get bad again, and he always tries to do little things to help. But... he knows that you're the one who's had to live in your head for years. The only reason he would go out of his way to help is if you asked him to.

Which you usually don't. It never seems to stay unbearable long enough for you to justify asking him, even though he's made clear he's always willing to do anything for you.

But this time is different, it feels as if your thoughts can't stop, no matter what you do. Even as you rest in bed, you only get more and more tired, more angry and miserable. Francis noticed this... but he wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want him to.

At least, that's how he thinks usually. But now, seeing his beloved sobbing for the 15th day in a row, he decided he had to do something.

Early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, you were awoken by Francis's smiling face.

”Time to get up!“

”No-“

You were swiftly cut off by him grabbing your arms and pulling you upwards.

”I've set out clothes for you. We're going somewhere.“

You shook your head, ”W-Where? I'm tired-“

”It's gonna be fun! I'll buy you coffee on the way, don't worry.“

So up you were, regardless of your protests.

An hour-long car drive later, and you understood why he was so enthusiastic about going here. Before you stood the most stunning valley you had ever seen, surrounded by perfectly green trees and water so blue you could've sworn it was fake. But the breeze flowing through your hair said otherwise.

“While we walk to the beach, you can tell me all about what's wrong, okay?” He locked his hand around yours.

Sure, it didn't solve everything. But... it was better than the bedroom.

China

Yao doesn't really... understand what depression is. When you tell him it's a “mental illness” all he understands is “illness.” So the moment things start getting worse for you, he's recommending all the things he learned to make sick people better.

If it gets to the point of being bedridden, he acts like you're gonna die. Which is obviously not very... comforting. So after many times of you telling him to leave you alone, he's gotten used to popping in every couple of hours with tea, but that's it.

After all, you're usually back to your normal self pretty quickly. But this time, he can tell something's off; and he's not about to let you wither away.

So, one morning, you're awoken to a delicious breakfast already in your lap and Yao sitting in front of you, looking like a kid on Christmas.

“Wh- Yao? Why did you...”

“You haven't been eating enough, and I don't want you getting tired soon.”

You looked at him suspiciously, “Why?”

“We have plans.“

”Good plans or bad plans?“

”Good plans! What do you think of me?“

Once you finished eating breakfast, he dragged you out of bed. No matter how much you protested, his grip on your hand was strong. He brought you to the other side of the house, into his already set-up studio.

”What are we doing in here?“ You ask nervously.

”Getting you out of bed,“ He responds quickly, gesturing to the yoga mat set up next to his.

All you could was sigh and stand next to him, waiting for instruction.

”Do we really have to do this?“

He nods, spreading his legs to the side and reaching down with one hand. Looking up at you expectantly, he smiled.

”It keeps you spry,“ He switched sides, ”It keeps you healthy.“

”I'm really not in the mood,“

”Trust me.“

With a huff, you slowly worked your creaking body into the same pose he pulled.

”I can't stand to see you suffer in that room.“

”It's not fun on my end either.“

”I love you. I wish you would tell me how to help.”

You groan as the next pose he demonstrated stretched you a little bit more than what was comfortable.

“You can't 'help.' Just gotta wait it out.“

He took a moment to respond, “Well, I suggest you wait it out in ways that get your mind off everything. Like this.”

“It's helping the tiniest bit, I guess...”

He chuckled, “We will keep working at it until you feel better. No matter how long it takes.”

Russia

When your depression gets bad, it seems to be obvious to everyone... except Ivan. Despite you bringing it up to him, he either doesn't know what to do... or he doesn't care. The possibility of the latter doing nothing to make you feel any better.

Even as you spend all day laying in bed, crying constantly, he doesn't seem to notice. He just acts like you aren't... suffering. That stings, a lot more than anything else creating this depressive episode.

But after a week of this unending gloominess, you get a strange text from Ivan.

“Come downstairs.”

Weird and annoying... but more importantly ominous. It takes you only a second to throw on a hoodie and rush downstairs. You can't hear his usual humming, and the house seems completely still as you search for him. But when you look out the back window, you see him.

As you enter the backyard, you fully see what he was doing.

In the middle of the yard, he set up a picnic. Surrounding him is a mountain of bright flowers, and tens of little plates bearing your favourite sweets lay on the light blanket.

“Come sit, darling.”

You would be foolish of you to not oblige. Once you sat down next to him, he reached out to stroke your cheek lovingly.

”What is torturing you so horribly?“

You took a deep breath, “Where to start?”

“Wherever you want,” he clucks his tongue sympathetically, resting his hand on your thigh.

“Y-You know... I thought you didn't care. You've been so... normal...”

Ivan looks awkward, averting his gaze, “I didn't want to make it worse. You're so strong, I knew you could get through it on your own. I'm sorry.”

“I can.... but I don't want to...”

He leans forward, kissing your forehead.

”I promise, now, you will never deal with anything alone.“

”You're sure it won't be too much?“

”Never. Never too much.“

hey there. its gonna get better. its gonna be different. but its gonna get better. there are hundreds of people youre gonna meet, and hundreds of places youre gonna go, and its gonna be amazing. one day youll wake up and realize everything is alright. because youre gonna be ok.

[zcorners120]

Hello, could you please make a part 3 for the shut up and get in story? I loved part 1 and part 2! Maybe that they walk into the paddock and garage together and that those mechanics are shocked that they are together. But if you come up with something else I will be happy with that as well!

yes ! im v happy to see my arthur fics getting recognition, especially shut up & get in, i put loads of effort into them <3 it's been a while since i wrote them so i had to re read them LMAAAOO

arthur leclerc x reader MASTERLIST PART ONE PART TWO

synopsis; your confusing newfound relationship with Arthur has now started to progress further..

warnings;

Trapped in his embrace, you began to increasingly panic. Maybe if you just pretended to fall asleep for awhile? Or do you just pull out of his grip?

You took the riskier option, having to pull with every muscle and get out of his strong arms. He stirred slightly, the gentle sunlight gracing his relaxed face as he dozed off.

You changed back into your now dry jeans, keeping his shirt on as you spray some deodorant and perfume on that you had in your bag. Slipping down the stairs and into the kitchen you made some breakfast, humming a tune from a shitty song, mixing the eggs in the pan.

"Something smells good." A deep voice announces, accompanied by the steps that it was taking towards you.

Slightly jumping, forgetting it wasn't just you in this incredible house.

"Oh yeah sorry, thought I'd just make us something." You cringed at the thought of this, you 24 hours ago wouldn't of have believed the situation.

He sat opposite on the kitchen island, rubbing his eyes groggily.

"I don't wanna bring this up, but like, sleeping together? What do we make of that?" Stirring the scrambled eggs before stopping, looking up and being met with Arthur's raised eyebrows.

"At least let me eat the eggs first, damn." Witty attitude straight from the morning.

"Not like that, pervert." You flicked a bit of broken egg shell towards him that you hadn't thrown away yet.

Little did you know, that egg shell was about to start war.

You saw the demeanour on his face turn from playful to something serious behind his eyes, but you were a bit too curious to find out.

Turning around with a smirk plastered on your face, thinking you'd finally won against him. Getting the pancake mix ready, you felt something wet and gooey fall on your head, running down the back of your neck.

"You're game."

Splatters everywhere. Ketchup in places it shouldn't be. Equally soaked in milk and runny yolk dripping.

Sat down on the wet floor opposite each other, absolutely beat by your childish activities. Trying to pretend like Arthur didn't pick you up by the waist, screaming when dropped you in a concoction of blueberries, smashed avocado and strawberry jam. Or closing you into the corner of the kitchen, his hot and heavy breath millimetres away from your plump lips, moment ruined by yoghurt falling and saturating your hair.

As you went to shower, for the second time, in Arthur Leclerc's shower, he posted something on his story.

Agreeing to a peace treaty, you headed to work in Arthur's car again, wearing another one of his tops and a pair of his joggers since he insisted.

Walking through the double doors to the academy together, huge smiles plastered on your faces was truly a sight that had to be seen with your own eyes.

The other mechanics went quiet, slightly in shock to see the two of you walking in late, giddy, and wearing his clothes.

"I thought they hated each other?" One asked his friend, to which his friend shakes his head and replies.

"They're kids. Who knows at this rate?"