#arthur is so beautiful when he opens up about his love and affection

[deuteragonist1]

This has been gnawing at my brain since I first heard it

because

And the way Arthur says it is so honest, so serious, so earnest. He's exhausted but he makes sure to look at Merlin's right in the eye. Like this comes from the bottom of his soul and he absolutely, desperately needs Merlin to understand (and considering he most likely knew he was going to die at this point, well). Look at Merlin's face. There's such solemnity and vulnerability in this scene. It hurts to watch.

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.  

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3

[ethernights]

Arthur Morgan Headcanons :3

he’s a killer no he’s my little pookie bear (gn! reader)

I feel like he’s super domestic - that one of his favourite things in the world is just to be at camp with you

Not even doing anything particular he just loves being around you while being safe and comfortable in camp

He most definitely loves cuddles in the mornings. He roles over in the morning and takes in your sleeping form, slowly and tentatively he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him planting soft little kisses and with his large hands tracing the lines of your back.

“Mornin’ sweetheart” he says as you stir with that handsome goofy smile he never does as often as you’d like.

You plant a soft, lazy kiss on his lips “Morning handsome”. He opens his mouth to object but you shush him and settle down into his arms.

“I don’t want to get up” you mumble into his chest. He lets out a hearty chuckle, “do ya’ want Miss Grimshaw to beat you up?”

You laugh too, “No, but i want to just say here a little longer”

“Me too love. Just a little while longer ok?”

He’s so gentle towards you, not because he thinks you’re fragile but because he’s so afraid of hurting not just you but everyone he cares about.

Is always sketching you, wether you’re looking or not. Even before you got together, he’d have just pages dedicated to you (not in the creepy way) doing the hundreds of different things you do each day.

Pretty sketches of you picking flowers with Jack, with said flowers in your hair, chopping vegetables with Pearson, carrying in kindling from the forest and cutting wood. Anything really - it’s the only drawings that he really loves to look back on, especially when he’s away from camp and missing you.

With your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you wipe the thin sheen of sweat from your forehead after chopping up some wood for camp - you spot Arthur sitting on his bed, nose in his journal sketching away. When his looks up, his pretty blue eyes meet yours- he adverts his gaze and shoves his nose back into his journal with a blush spreading over his cheeks and nose.

When he sees you walking over to him, he (not very discreetly) closes his journal and places it beside him as you sit next to him.

“What you drawing cowboy?” you smile, noticing the redness of his cheeks.

“I uh, jus’ pretty things i seen” he says avoiding your gaze.

“Can i see?” you ask as he looks a little hesitant.

“I guess-“ He says opening up his journal to his recent page.

You read your name scribbled atop of the page in his pretty cursive writing, however the charcoal drawing of you drawing the axe down into the wood makes you blush a little. The other sketches of your face and side profile make you smile - you admire the scratches of the charcoal against the page, how he captures the high points and the low points of your face.

“These are beautiful Arthur” You say, amazed with his talent.

Instinctively he goes to say some self-depreciating comment, not used to accepting praise but he sees your wide eyes and large smile. “Thank you sweetheart”

He also really likes riding with you on the same horse, in-front or behind him he doesn’t care. He loves the way you wrap your arms around him and hold onto his gun belt. Or way that you lean back into his chest while he has one hand on the reins and the other resting atop your thigh or his arm wrapped around your stomach.

Overall i think he loves physical affection - giving and receiving, it’s definitely his love language. Just holding you and admiring you is his personal definition of heaven. PDA is definitely not his thing though, he much prefers the privacy of his tent or the quietness and peace of the wilderness even if it doesn’t last long while the two of you are there.

[outlaw-apologist]

How The Gang Kisses You (RDR2)

This was requested by @kieropal  ❤️ Warnings: NSFW themes

Gender Neutral reader

Characters: Arthur, Charles, Kieran, John, Sean, and Dutch

AO3 link

Requests are open if anyone ever has any ideas :D

Arthur

- He probably doesn’t seem like it but Arthur LOVES kisses. At first he’s too shy to kiss you in front of the others, but if you’ve been running with the gang for awhile he’ll get used to it

- His kisses are shy and sweet at first.  A kiss to the back of your hand, then your wrist. Slowly that turns to a kiss on the cheek and forehead kisses before he’s finally bold enough to kiss your lips. Arthur has to work his way up to it.

- However, despite getting used to kissing your lips, Arthur will keep giving the little kisses. He kisses the back of your hand when you return to camp after a quick mission or supply run. Wrist kisses are slowly followed by eye contact to heat you up. Arthur kisses your forehead when he feels overwhelming affection for you. Cheek kisses are a little less common, but occur when John or Sean are being asses, so he doesn’t want to get them riled up in case they tease you.

- Forehead kisses are his go to kiss when he wants to comfort you or casually show you love. You’ve been crying? He’ll wipe your tears with his thumb and kiss your forehead while whispering sweet affirmations. You’re cold? He’ll wrap you into his arms, pull you against his chest then plants a kiss to your forehead. Just wake up with morning breath? Arthur pecks your forehead then breathes in your hair before nuzzling you. - The first time he gives you a proper kiss - his lips are timid and unsure. They ghost over yours, giving you a chance to pull away before he commits and gives a chaste kiss. - Arthur’s kisses are always gentle and filled with passion. He makes sure to pour all of his love into every one. Very rarely are his kisses hard, but when they are it’s usually right before you two have a nice rough (mutually agreed upon) wild fuck. - While in the throes of passion Arthur worships your body, placing hot open mouthed kisses over every inch of skin until his lips are glistening and swollen. - When he’s moving inside of you Arthur will kiss you until neither of you can breathe. He can’t get enough of you. He loves sucking on your bottom lip, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Most of all he feels as though he needs to be as close to you as possible which results in the most dizzying kisses. --- Charles - Charles will not kiss you in front of anyone except Arthur. He trusts no one with the knowledge of how much he loves and values you. (Except Arthur ofc) - You half expected your first kiss with him to be shy but Charles knows what he wants. As soon as he realized you wanted it too he pulled you into a confident kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head, fingers laced in your hair. - He has stunning lips but they could easily eat you up or overpower the kiss so he’s a bit more methodical while kissing you. Charles doesn’t want it to feel gross for you. He very much cares more about your experience with him than anything else. - When cuddling, Charles nuzzles you and kisses at your neck, jaw, or behind your ear. It’s not usually done in a suggestive way. He’s just appreciating you. Appreciating the moment. - Charles comes up behind you, wraps his arms around you, and presses sweet kisses to your neck or shoulder whenever he can. He just wants you to know how beautiful he finds you through actions rather than words. - Before either of you leave on a dangerous mission Charles cradles your face and searches your eyes. He then slowly takes your lips against his in a deep and loving kiss. Time freezes and for a moment the world doesn’t matter, because it’s only you and him in this sphere of time and space. As he pulls away he lets out a sad sigh then presses your foreheads together. “Should get going-.” He murmurs, pulling away reluctantly. -During love making Charles enjoys leaving marks on you from kissing and sucking on your skin. It pleases him to see your skin glisten with proof of his love and passion. He’ll never do it in a way others would notice. However, sometimes your chest and thighs will be covered in these marks if he gets carried away. - If you guys are having a rough fuck Charles will dominate your mouth until your lips are trembling. Both your and his lips will be glistening with spit from hard sloppy kisses. --- Kieran - The most courage Kieran has ever summoned was to give you a quick peck on the cheek. He did it so fast you almost didn’t understand what he did. He practically ran back to the horses and avoided you for three days out of sheer embarrassment (and terror?). - If you want to kiss Kieran properly you’ll have to do it first. He’s not brave enough to initiate even though you constantly catch him staring at your lips longingly. But, if Kieran suspects you’re about to kiss him he shies away. You have to give him a surprise kiss. Once you do he tenses up but quickly melts into it, pulling away with a dreamy sigh followed by a little “wow!”. - After Kieran realizes you like kissing him he’ll want kisses a lot! He never kisses you randomly like other gang members might. He always asks you politely: “Can I please have a kiss?” “Would you like a kiss?” “Is it alright if I kiss you?” In the quietist sweetest voice. - If you two are alone he’ll kiss you without asking. The first kiss will be shy and he’ll immediately study your face as if silently asking if he can continue kissing you. If you respond well then Kieran carries on, each kiss becomes bolder and bolder. - Let’s be real. Kieran can’t go to sleep without having a goodnight kiss. Otherwise he has bad dreams. - The first time you and Kieran make-out he whimpered when your tongue entered his mouth… And the time after that…. AND after that… Okay, every time you two make-out he melts, mewls, whines, and whimpers as you dominate his mouth. When you pull away he has a dazed look, spit dribbling down the corner of his lips. -- Kieran is unsure about kissing your body during sex because he doesn’t know what places are acceptable to kiss and what places aren’t. He’ll learn with some coaxing. He wants to do a good job for you so he eagerly follows any and all directions. - Probably the best time to kiss Kieran is near the end of your love making/fuck session. When Kieran is nearing orgasm his lips tremble cutely against yours. As it hits him his mouth falls open in ecstasy, then you have free reign if you wish to shove your tongue down his throat. --- Dutch - Dutch licks his lips real good before placing a sloppy kiss on your lips - His kisses are selfish -If he’s angry then his kisses can either be harsh or bruising. - If you’re crying or taking too loud Dutch will pull you into a kiss just to silence you. Sometimes he’ll even do this during an argument if he thinks you might not slap him. - He’s def the guy who’s always saying shit like: “Aww c’mon. Where’s my kiss?” “Don’t I get a kiss too?” “Why don’t you kiss me for good luck?” - When he does give genuine kisses it’s usually during times where he feels… emotionally vulnerable. Usually if he’s feeling sad, or during sex when you two have the occasional gentle love making session. Before bed he starts to feel some type of way and the night often ends with a passionate or loving kiss. --- Sean - I just wanted to add that I see Sean kissing 1 of 2 ways. Either his lips are dry and crusty OR he licks his lips until they’re shining with spit to kiss you. - Sean will kiss you 24/7. In the middle of an important job? Kiss. Fighting with a gang member over something? Big smacker right on your lips. You better be careful, if Sean catches you unguarded his lips are gonna touch yours one way or another. - “Wha’dya mean killing a bunch of O’Driscolls isn’t cause for a make-out session?” - He’ll ask you to kiss him in front of other gang members just to make them feel jealous. - When he’s feeling affectionate he gently takes your hand and kisses every one of your knuckles while whispering sweet nothings It’s not always shits and gigs with him. Most of the time it is, but not always. -Okay but real talk, during love making Sean will give the most passionate and personable kisses you’ve ever received. The kind where you kiss over and over again, just breathing each others air and feeling one another. You’ll think about his kisses every time you miss him. --- John -His kisses are dry and kind of awkward. Mostly because he thinks he doesn’t need chapstick. - He’ll try to kiss you when he has food around his mouth. He doesn’t get why you might think that’s gross. -John likes to think he’s great at leading kisses. But secretly he wants you to dominate his mouth like he’s your whore. - He gives casual kisses when you two wake up, before you go to bed, and right before he rides out for any reason. - During sex he loves to trace your collar bone with his lips, leaving hot kisses against your skin. Besides that area your jaw and neck are his favorite places to kiss you. Sometimes he holds it while rolling his hips up into you so you could feel his breath change with pleasure. - If you’re ever sitting down or bending down and John has a strong desire to kiss you he’ll kneel at your level, take your face into his hands, and give you the kiss of a lifetime. - John goes through cycles of either not wanting kisses at all or being needing and nearly begging for kisses. - He fucking loves to kiss you after his cock/cum were in your mouth. Tasting himself on you drives him insane

[scuderiasundays]

a promise is a promise

summary: sliding into a stranger's dm's, nostalgia for your first date, and a promise sealed with a kiss + a little insta au at the end 💙

words: 1,071

a/n: my first time writing for mr. leclerc! thank you for the req, @headinthecloudssblog 🫶🏼 tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @formulaforza, @thatsdemko, and @diorleclerc because i trust you all deeply. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses!

Charles loved Adele and he sure wasn't shy about it. While the other racing drivers were hyping themselves up with rock, EDM, or rap, the Monegasque’s AirPods (which he often lost) were blaring “Someone Like You.” You, yourself, wondered how the powerful yet melancholy ballad could put him in the right headspace to drive at breathtaking speeds of up to 362 km/h. 

You were nothing short of euphoric when it was announced that she would be extending her exclusive residency in Las Vegas. It would be a dream come true if you could see her live during the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. However, a bitter reality crept in when you discovered the final show was scheduled for November 4, a mere two weeks before the two of you would arrive stateside. Charles would be racing at Interlagos, while you would be stuck at a clinical genetics conference in St Andrews.

“I was going to get us tickets to thank you for your service in the Great War!” You huffed as you watched Charles tie the laces of his Puma running shoes, visibly let down by the news. All of your friends thought the racing driver had used his F1 connections to get you those coveted floor seats, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Your boyfriend had spent 18 hours in a virtual queue on one of his few days off, using multiple of his sim racing monitors to secure tickets to the Eras Tour. Arthur had mocked his older brother about how “whipped” he was, joking that he was relieved someone else’s screen time was as horrific as his own.

With a light kiss on your neck, Charles wrapped his arms around you from behind, his voice filled with affection. "It’s like this, ma chérie. I'm going for a run with Andrea," he whispered. As he headed towards the door, his shoulders slumped and his AirPods in, it became clear today's run would be more of a recovery run, a moment for him to recharge physically but more so emotionally.

Determined to bring Charles closer to his idol, you swiftly grabbed your phone from the kitchen island and opened Adele's Instagram profile. Sliding into someone's DMs had never been your style, let alone that of a Grammy-winning artist, but you figured there was nothing to lose.

"Hi, this is Y/N. I know it's unlikely that you'll ever see this, but I'm taking a leap of faith for my boyfriend Charles, who is undoubtedly your biggest fan. Our first date perfectly encapsulates his essence," you began typing, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. "He took me on the most gorgeous twilight yacht ride, accompanied by a meticulously curated playlist of his favorite songs. Upbeat songs like 'A Sky Full of Stars,' 'Pepas,' and 'Feel So Close' filled the air. But then, out of nowhere, a hauntingly beautiful piano melody began to play."

Pausing for a moment, a reminiscent smile graced your face as the memory came roaring back to life. "'Is this Adele?'" you had asked, a glass of rosé in your hand. Charles looked so at peace compared to the tense expression he sometimes wore during race weekends. He had offered you his blue Ferrari sweatshirt to ward off the evening chill and confirmed that it was indeed Adele. Charles shared that he, unlike most, found comfort in what he deemed “depressive music.”

Since that fateful evening, the British songstress' music had become an integral part of your relationship. It served as the soundtrack to your road trips, where you took turns belting ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ It sparked heated debates about whether Adele’s ‘Daydreamer’ or Sade’s ‘By Your Side’ should be your first dance song. It even led to late nights, downing espresso shots just so you could listen to her latest album the second it dropped.

You reached for your phone once again. "That night ended with Charles’ hand resting on my thigh as he drove me home to 'Make You Feel My Love.’ Your music has been the soundtrack to so many of our most intimate moments, and it would mean the world if you could find some time to perform for him," you typed, pouring your heart into the message. You added, "I know this is a long shot, but I..." before eagerly hitting the "Send" button. With a growing sense of accomplishment, you decided to run to the grocery store to pick up some fresh salmon for dinner.

Unable to keep a secret to save your life, you shared what you’d been up to with Charles. "You DM'd the queen? Je t'aime, ma belle, but I highly doubt she'll reply," he playfully teased, rolling his eyes as he wiped the dish you had just handed him.

"What if she does?" you retorted, a hint of hope in your voice. "You know how I treasure you so much I don’t even trust myself to take you on a hot lap? We’ll do it in Las Vegas if and only if Adele responds." His devilish Leclerc wink accompanied the mischievous remark, leaving you to wonder how this crazy turn of events would unfold.

Weeks passed, and with each passing day, the likelihood of a reply dwindled. Charles was away in Qatar when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. A courier stood before you, holding a grand bouquet of white roses along with a message card. Assuming it was from him, your hands trembled as you read the sign-off on the ivory white card. There it was, unmistakably etched in the most elegant script. Five letters. Adele.

You snatched the card eagerly and read it over countless times, overcome with disbelief. It turned out that Adele's devoted fan base had made her very much aware of Charles' fanboying. She expressed her delight and confirmed that she would be more than happy to sing a few songs for you over dinner so long as she could score some “cool mom points” and bring her son Angelo to the race.

Your hands trembled with sheer excitement as you shared the spectacular news with Charles. He blamed his nonexistent allergies as tears welled up in his eyes, but you saw right through his lies.

"So, you'll be taking me on that hot lap, Leclerc?" you grinned, blissed out seeing him so happy. "Bah oui, une promesse est une promesse," he replied, sealing his vow with a well-earned kiss.

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liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 61,616 others

yourusername: weekends with adele (and charles) 🎰🍸❤️

fan1: “it’s true that, after a bad day, if you listen to that, you cry. you don’t feel any better. but i like it. i like the mood of depressive music.” - chuck leclerc

charles_leclerc: i have the best girlfriend in the world! tu est simplement la meilleure ❤️

adele: she’s one of a kind! thank you for letting me bear witness to your love x

yourusername: you, sir, are the love of my life. thanks for tolerating my impulsivity!

fan2: i need a charles and adele collab and i need it NOW 😤

joris_trouche: he’ll never shut up about this

charles_leclerc: prepare to be sick of me! wait, you and @andferrari007 already are 🫣

scuderiaferrari: c² music challenge but adele songs only?

carlossainz55: why play when i don’t even stand a chance 🤨

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  What is supposed to be a chill afternoon at the grand opening of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children, turns out to be a nightmare: Charles is kidnapped and chaos spreads in the Shelby family. This is when Thomas remembers something you had told him: "You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.”  He suddenly understands: You did it.

Words: 5K

TW: Angst, Child kidnapping, typical canon violence, graphic description of violence, death of secondary characters, murder, a very quick allusion to child abuse, gruesome kills, a lot of blood I guess

Notes:

✞ This chapter is based on the event of S3 Episode 6. Italicized parts are taken from the show. However, it contains many changes from the show's script, especially to accommodate this fanfiction's purposes and the characters' development.

✞ Theme song to listen to on repeat while reading if you want

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

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“Say it Tom, say it to ‘em! ” Arthur’s loud voice exclaimed in a joyful tone, calloused hands clapping with strength to encourage his little brother and his speech. The whole crowd, as well as you, followed his example and stood up to applaud the founder of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children. Admittedly, you recognized that the idea of opening such an establishment was surprising yet excellent, especially coming from the family’s boss. Quickly glancing at Arthur and his smile, you could not help but melt. The blinded love and trust he had for Tommy had something admirable despite your rocky relationship with little King Shelby.

You sit back and, as you did, Arthur gently put his hand on your thigh and took a look at you, his magnificent blue eyes shining with affection. He did not need to say a single word for you to understand what was going through his mind: he was just proud. Proud of Tommy, obviously, but particularly proud to attend such a significant ceremony with his stunning woman by his side. Even though most of the town knew about Arthur’s mysterious angel, attending the event with you had something official. The butterflies in his stomach flapped their wings when he introduced you to some guests as his sweetheart — you had even overheard him calling you his “future wife”. The way some of the visitors looked at both of you, their traits stretching in surprise as they realized that the sweetest creature they have ever seen was deeply enraptured with him, was enough to fill his heart with pride. A faint smile flattered your juicy lips at such an endearing vision, the joy it brought upon you making the whole crowd disappear for a few seconds as you lost yourself in Arthur’s beauty. Another thunder of applause popped your daydreams and forced you to shift your focus back on what was going on.

In fact, the first lyrics of Immortal Invisible brought you back to reality as it echoed in the room. You were about to join the chorus, Arthur’s fingers discreetly reaching for yours as a silent request to hear you sing with that lovely voice of yours, when you caught sight of Tommy leaving the room with hastened footsteps. The aura of sorrow that emanated from him stirred both your empathy and your worries — even though you did not get along, you could not help but commiserate with him on this difficult day that reminded him of Grace far too much to handle the event properly. Thomas’ beloved wife was everywhere around you, you could sense it. Her presence was so overwhelming that one could have expected to see her walk into the room at one moment or another. The cruel truth was that she was gone for good, and what was left of her slowly pushed Thomas Shelby to the edge of depression. Instinctively, your cold little hand tightened its grip around Arthur. His company kept your mind from drifting too far in the dark waters of your own loss. And by loss, you meant your Dad, hung high on a tree, as well as your Mom and little sister who had burned on the pyre.

The room was filled with chatters and guests, whose discussions blended together in an unintelligible cacophony. Alone in a corner, a glass of champagne in your hand, you swept the room with interest without really taking part in any conversations. Somehow, huge gatherings had never been your cup of tea — you came from a small town lost in the mountains after all, not from the city. Moreover, you were well aware of the curious, sometimes snobbish looks other ladies gave you and you were not sure they would be particularly delighted by your presence. They thought you did not fit the picture with your long and braided white hair, your ivory sun dress, and Arthur’s long and black coat resting on your shoulders. To be true, you could not blame them, you did not fit in but you were also surprisingly fine with it. When your lips grazed the sparkly alcohol, you winced a little bit. As ironic as it sounded for a French girl, you despised the taste of champagne, even though you still took the glass you had been offered out of sheer politeness. Giving up on the idea of drinking it, you just sighed. It did not take long for you to grow bored with analyzing people’s faces — they were more or less the same, and most of them took the shape of women giggling when Thomas walked past them. You soon caught sight of Arthur and John, both talking to their brother.

“Fuck me, Tom. I don’t know how you do it.” Arthur stated, his gruff voice and harsh words contrasting drastically with Thomas’ elegant elocution. He had barely finished his sentence when the latter was once again forced into another formal conversation with aristocratic ladies. He took a quick look at John, who was sipping on a tea, and rolled his eyes, annoyed. Understanding that having a real conversation with Tommy was going to be difficult, he waved off the idea and finally headed back to you. As soon as his eyes fell on your frame, his face relaxed and enlightened with a loving smile.

“Oi. Why are you all alone, Angel?” He inquired, his arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close to his body for he could not keep his hands off you for too long, “want to go back home?” Arthur laid a tender kiss on your cheek, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your skin in signs of deep affection. Your smile widened at the sensation of his mustache, to the point you could not hold the light chuckle that escaped from your mouth. He was so worried about your well-being that he went straight to the point: if you wanted to leave you had every right to do so.

“No need to go back home dear, I do enjoy the party. I’m just not really good at social gatherings nor making new friends I guess!”

“Ada told me you can join in her conversations if ye want.” His thumbs caressed your hips in a circular motion.

“I don’t want to bother Ada. She seems rather busy.” You put down your glass on a nearby table, and snuggled in his arms, more than thrilled to have his whole attention for yourself. The slight anxiety you had been feeling vanished into dust at his soothing warmth and his manly perfume. A perfume that had started to blend with yours, hence creating that unique fragrance of your love.

“Hey Arthur, move. You know she likes me hugs the best.” John teased — he had also decided to keep you company rather than waiting on Tommy.

“I’m really going to kick yer ass John, don’t care if I do it in front of all the people of this bloody room.” He growled, pulling you even closer for he refused to let you go. Even if it was with his own brother. Your grin widened, their never-ending sibling arguments never failing to amuse you.

“I would take your brother’s threats with the utmost seriousness if I were you. But at the same time, I really appreciate your dauntless nature. C’m’here.” One of your arms left Arthur’s neck to welcome John in the hug despite the hoarse complaints that followed. John, not hesitating for a slight second, joined in and held you in his arms for a few but indescribably comforting seconds. Each time he would pull you in a bear hug, he would make you feel at home.

“Okay, enough —“ Arthur nudged his little brother in the ribs, the corner of his lips curling up in a sadistic smirk only older siblings knew how to do.

“Why don’t you hug me longer? Afraid to show your sensitive side, Mon amour?” John said, making his best impression of your French accent and the pet name you were always giving to his brother. This time you could not help but genuinely laugh, a part of you astounded by John’s ability to be that annoying. The face Arthur made, contorted with both shock and anger, only cracked you up harder. Still, you softly stroke his neck to keep his spirit quiet and avoid him throwing a tantrum in the middle of the room.

Finally resigning himself not to bounce on John and beat the shit out of him, Arthur looked at you with the most irresistible puppy eyes he could do. Sometimes you had trouble realizing he, who could look like a beaten dog, was the same man that could kill someone with his bare fists out of jealousy and fuck you roughly in the shower still covered with fresh blood right after.

“Lemme smack him, please Angel. Just one little tiny punch in his fookin’ face.” He begged, “Just to shut his bloody mouth, eh.”

You raised a brow, your hand trailing up his neck to fix his hairstyle — Arthur shivered at your touch, his whole body responding with tremors of lust that shook him to the core, “Not here. But you’ll find a good moment to avenge yourself, Mr. Shelby” You said, punctuating your sentence with a knowing wink.

“Woah, calm down Devil. I thought you’d defend me!” John retorted, pretending to be outraged by your betrayal.

“Not my fault if you’re stupid enough to believe that.” Your grin turned into a sharky smile.

“That’s my girl,” Arthur purred when looking at you, “always on her good ol’ Arthur’s side,” He pressed his lips on the side of your head, laying an enamored kiss upon it. How much you liked his way of showering you with love no matter where you were. Nevertheless, the lighthearted conversation did not last long, for an unpleasant gut feeling alerted all your senses. You slightly pulled away from Arthur and frowned, instinctively looking in Thomas’ direction. He was talking with Ada, his face veiled with a deep worry you had never seen him wearing. Something happened, that was the first thought that crossed your mind — and how right you were. At this moment, Thomas walked to you, his piercing blue eyes expressing concern. You saw him coming before his own brothers.

“Heaven, love? Are ya alri—“

“Boys, have you seen Charlie?” Thomas cut him off.

“Eh…” Arthur softly released you from his sweet embrace to focus on Tommy, “I don’t know. He is playing, ain’t he?” His smile faded away as if he had just sensed that something was wrong.

The wind changed for Thomas Shelby, whose legendary self-control broke down at the moment he realized Charles had disappeared. As your mind proceeded with what was happening, he had already started to go from guest to guest asking if they had seen his son. The more he asked, the more his placid tone turned into the painful roars of a wounded lion. All it took was one tiny second for the whole ceremony to dive into chaos.

Deafened by the sound of your own beating heart racing in your chest, you started to look around you in a vain attempt to find Charles maybe playing under a table or behind furniture. That was all you could do, for your feet seemed stuck in invisible roots that were keeping you from moving. You stood there, useless, for you did not know what to do. Maybe Charles was still here, hidden somewhere to prank his nanny? But all Tommy’s hopes and yours crumbled when Ada, so stunning in her elegant outfit, caught everyone’s attention with precious information.

“Tommy. Someone said they saw a nurse take him through the back door.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Fuck.” Arthur swore out loud, grabbing his sister by the wrists before storming out of the room with the other Shelbys.

Boom. Boom.

You brought your hand to your chest, now convinced your heart was about to burst. Something had definitely happened to Charles — as you had sensed weeks ago at the Garrison. Ripping through the lethargy you were embroiled in, you ran up the stairs and rummaged through each room to look for Charlie. Voices, all mixed, came through the opened window. You froze, listening to them.

“Arthur! Somebody saw a woman and a kid getting into a car.”

“Ah, fuck!”

“CHARLIE!”

“Where is he? Tell me.

_Someone took him. Listen to me! They put in in a car. They put him in a car and drove south. We’ve got roadblocks, we’ve got spotters. I’ll set up shop and put every man we’ve got… between here and Maypole.

_ Right. You do that.

_ You gotta go to the office. You gotta sit by the phone. Whoever took him is going to call. Polly! Let’s go, Pol! Stay by that phone. Me and John will cover the roads.”

And that was how the world collapsed on Thomas’ head. Again.

You looked at his car disappearing in the dull horizon, knowing that dark hours were awaiting all of you. Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the mighty silhouette of the crow that was staring at you from the nearest tree with his dark beady eyes. A dull caw sound tore the silence that had fallen upon the mansion and snatched you from your anxious mind.

Caw. He mocked.

And to think it had warned you!

When Tommy stormed into the office, all of the family already gathering there, the sound of his soles hammering the wooden floor made the whole skies shiver with fear.

“Where’s Heaven?” He asked, blue eyes looking dagger at Arthur because if someone knew about you it was obviously him.

“Coming. She was with Esme.” His gruff voice retorted, trying to remain calm for Tommy’s sake.

“Esme’s waters broke,” John answered right away, “I was just with her. Running around fucking broke the waters.”

“Where’s Finn?” Thomas insisted.

“With the young’uns looking for the Riley. We couldn’t reach him.” Arthur informed before bringing a glass of whisky to his mouth and taking one big gulp. The fire that trailed down his throat almost made him sigh with momentary relief.

“I need to know who spoke. Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside of the family. I need to know who spoke, who they’ve spoken to.” Tommy was trying hard to remain calm but his erratic breath and the quick pace of his words betrayed the rage that was boiling within him.

“Tommy…

_ Your future wife, Arthur?”

Arthur’s pinched his lips, swallowing the furious urge to yell at his little brother for uttering such an obnoxious accusation. He looked away as he tried to keep his composure.

“I’m gonna tell myself you’re not thinking straight. Your mind’s not clear.”

“I want to see her now, you hear me?”

It was at this moment you entered the room as if you had been summoned by Thomas’ words. You had appeared in the doorframe without a single noise, Arthur’s dark coat contrasting with the unsettling porcelain of your skin and the fair aquamarine of your iris. There you stood, all the family’s eyes staring at you for they had told you it would have been probably better if you did not come. All of them were more or less aware of Tommy's hostility toward you, and they knew he would certainly find a way to blame you in one way or another.

“Speaking of the Devil.” He said with his most collected tone, while his gaze darkened at the sight of your doll face. If Arthur saw an Angel when looking at you, Thomas could only recognize the threatening shadow of death floating around your silhouette, the long coat you were wearing reminding him of the Grim Reaper’s cloak. All that was missing from the picture was a scythe in your hand, “Did you speak?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply replied, walking to Arthur. The wooden floor creaked under your heels. You were already exhausted by his accusations you knew that were awaiting you. But still, you came, because all you wanted was to be where you belonged: by Arthur's side, supporting him.

“I know Arthur can’t keep his fucking mouth shut and tells you everything.” He quickly glanced at his brother, who was staring at an invisible dot on the wall to keep calm, and shifted all his focus back to you again. You clenched your jaw at the petty comment, “So I’m gonna reiterate the question and you’re going to answer me, eh. Did you speak?"

“I did not speak, Tommy. I said nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.” He retorted right after you finished your sentence. His hands, pressed against the table, were now trembling with a rage he desperately tried to tame, “I know you’ve got something to do with all this shit. I know that’s you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Arthur was quicker. Grabbing your wrist in case he needed to protect you from his brother, he stepped between the two of you, “Come on Tommy, I know yer angry and anxious, but that ain’t a reason to accuse her. She didn’t do anything.”

“Ah. Arthur Shelby protecting his damn fallen Angel, I was expecting it" His eyes went from him to you several times, "Do you think she didn’t? So, can you explain why did she tell me to keep an eye on Charles weeks ago?” Tommy's words were coated with poison. The quietness of his voice, highlighted by the rumble of his growling soul, only rendered him more impressive. Silence fell over the office at such a revelation no one knew.

Astounded, Arthur turned to you and, with his brows furrowed in confusion, stared at you, “Did ya — Did ya really say that?”

You blinked, stunned by Thomas’ vivid memory and by the gleam of shock in Arthur’s steel blue eyes.

“Hey, listen. I did not plot behind this family’s back nor did I hurt Charlie or anything.”

“Why would you say that to me then?” Tommy took a few steps toward you. He would usually avoid coming to close to you when other people were around, but you were not sure he would do so this time. You wanted to back off but Arthur’s grip tightened around your wrist, for he did not know what to think anymore. “Whose side are you on, uh?” Tommy asked, "Did anyone ever wonder whose side she's on?"

“I saw a crow on my way to the Garrison and I felt it was a bad omen. And then I had a gut feeling after our conversation. That’s all, Thomas! It was just a damn clairvoyant gut feeling!” You defended yourself, before looking at Arthur, “I swear it’s the truth.”

"Yeah, the truth," Arthur repeated, trying to overcome his insecurities.

“Oh my God, keep your witchcraft-coated excuses for someone else, Heaven. You talked at best, you work with Hughes at worst. After all, you knew him before you came into our lives” Tommy tried to come closer again but Polly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him at a safe distance, “No matter the makeup and the jewels you wear they won’t hide the Devil under there.”

“Don’t imply I have something to do with that fucking bastard!” You hissed through your teeth, hatred blooming within at the sole mention of the name. This time, Arthur’s calloused hands grabbed you by your shoulders to keep you still, for you were starting to get agitated. At this point, he was not sure if he did it to protect you from Tommy, or to protect Tommy from you.

“Heaven, calm down…” He said softly, trying to ease the wildfire of your anger.

“He’s accusing me of Charles’ kidnapping, Arthur! I can’t fucking believe it!” You protested, your doll face wearing injustice like the most beautiful jewel ever crafted. Arthur kept you firmly against his chest, his arms locking around you and his hoarse voice whispering “I know love…” in your ear.

“And I can’t believe you think I'm naive enough to believe you talked to a bloody crow and got a bad feeling. Tell me where’s my son, you Devil.” Thomas growled in the background.

Polly pulled his nephew’s arm, for he was starting to be too harsh with you “Why not? She has brought a bird back to life Tommy. I would not be surprised if she saw it coming one way or another.”

“'Scuse me?” He turned around in one vivid movement, his eyes diving into his Aunt’s. He could not believe what she had just said.

Another silence flew over the room as the rest of the Shelby family confirmed Pol’s information with a nod of the head. All the people in this office had witnessed the extent of your power at the last gathering you had organized in your garden — hence the fact they were not particularly surprised by your sharp instincts. John swallowed, recalling the way the bird first twitched in your small hands before flying away, wings flapping with newly breathed energy.

“Pol’s right, Tom,” Ada started, “I usually don’t believe in these kind of things but it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

It was too much for Tommy, who already was on the very edge of his patience. There went his mind, aching at the thought of his sweet son trapped between the monstrous and disgusting claws of that twisted priest. His boy, the last thing that kept Grace’s memory alive, had been snatched from him and here his family was, defending the one that probably did it. Of course, he believed in supernatural forces — he was convinced a curse took Grace away from him — but Tommy needed a more rational explanation. He needed anything that could help to get Charles back. He brought one of his trembling hands to his mouth, gathering all his remaining strength to restrain himself in such a catastrophic situation, “She resurrected a damn bird, and no one told me…” He said to himself, " She resurrected a bird," He repeated, a faint and nervous chuckle escaping from his lips before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Heaven‘s really sensed it, nothing else. You know she would never harm Charles. She felt it coming Tommy. She is… She is gifted. Do you understand how useful she could be?” Polly’s words, coated with both softness and authority, managed to soothe the hurricane of violence that was raging within him. Thomas had stopped talking yet he kept looking at you with anger burning in his ice-cold eyes.

You frowned —still trapped in Arthur’s arms for your own sake—, and looked at Polly.

“Forget it, Pol. He’s not going to change his mind.” You finally said after letting out a long sigh. A part of you was well aware that bargaining with Thomas Shelby was useless. Moving your shoulders, you managed to free yourself from Arthur’s embrace and, to his greatest surprise, made your way to the exit. He almost jumped, catching your hand in his.

“Heaven.”

“No Arthur, this is fucking useless. I am not going to stay here and let him blame me for everything that happens to this family while I did nothing but share my clairvoyant feeling with him. He wants me to prove whose side I’m on? Fine! I’ll do it then! ”

Arthur opened his mouth, thinking about something that could convince you to stay but he knew you were right. He finally lowered his head, jaw clenched and eyes avoiding yours.

“Gonna come with you then,” His gruff voice mumbled.

“No, you stay there.” You said, which made Arthur frown even more and look at you with utter confusion, “Thomas needs you. He’s aching and vulnerable. Stay with him and do what you have to do, Arthur. I'll wait for you.”

“Alright.” He resigned himself, worries making his magnificent eyes shine, “ one last thing.” He said after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Hm?”

“Tell me you have nothing to do with Charles’ kidnapping.” He dared to say, feeling utterly ashamed by the fact he needed reassurance about it. But he had always trusted Tommy more than anyone else and now, he was conflicted between his loyalty to his brother and the maddening love he had for you.

“Arthur… Are you serious?” You asked, your heart hurting at such a demand. A sigh fell from your lips, whose red lipstick made even more hypnotizing. “ I promise I'm not involved in Charles' kidnapping. You have my word.” You finally said as you looked at him right in the eyes, trying to hide the pain.

“I— I trust you,” He paused, “I trust you.” He repeated, then he pulled you in a quick hug to soothe his inner turmoil. To be true, he would have probably died if it turned out you had been toying with his heart all along. But Arthur refused to believe Tommy was right, this awful thought almost leading him to the path of madness again, “Take care, love. See you later.”

You replied with a faint, exhausted smile and left the building, disappearing in the fog of Birmingham’s streets.

The fact remained that Tommy did not feel better after you left.

Or Esme getting cash for cocaine, eh, John?

All of a sudden, back in the family, Ada, eh. That’s a surprise. Out of the blue. On whose orders?

And you and your painter…

Down he went, spiraling into a paranoid craze and, to everyone's greatest surprise, you were not the only one that had triggered it.

The sound of Death Knell resonated in the night, its threatening shadow floating over Birmingham houses and souls. Following Tommy’s plan, John and Arthur roamed through the train station with the firm will of spreading calculated chaos at 10 o’clock in a grandiose murderous explosion. You can go with them but it’s better if you let them do the job, that was more or less what Arthur had told him before he left. Despite the orders given, Michael managed to leave the two henchmen behind and reached Hughes’ church without getting caught by another Peaky Blinder. It was not that Tommy’s plan was poor, but he indubitably needed to take care of this business alone. No one around him seemed to understand how deep his pain was entangled with Father Hughes. He had to wipe the priest out by himself — he had promised it to his little self after many sleepless nights recalling his dirty hands wandering on him.

And he did.

Michael was panting, a mix of thick repugnant blood and sweat dripping from his face. Still straddling Father Hugues’ corpse, the young Blinders’ hands were frozen on the knife he had thrust into the priest’s throat. The hot and sticky sensation almost made him throw up when it first poured over his skin. A crimson puddle had already formed under the body, growing bigger and bigger as minutes passed. And when that same puddle reached the floor’s grooves, it filled them with dark red blood and drew patterns on the wood.

Another grunt escaped from Michael’s quivering lips as he slowly realized what he had done. He killed. Again.

All wobbly on his legs, Michael Gray still managed to stand up and took a few steps back, his hand leaning on a bench. His fair eyes did not shift from Father Hughes’ motionless body for he forced himself to look at him— there lied the monster who had terrified him for years. There lied the child eater, his neck opened and his obscene glassy eyes staring blankly at the church’s ceiling.

Coming back to his senses the best he could, Michael stumbled to the heavy door of the room from which Father Hughes came out and opened it. All he wanted was to carry Charles in his arms, telling him everything would be fine, and flee from this cursed place. Yet, his heart missed a beat when he entered the small room and realized Charles was not there.

“Fuck!” Michael blurted out. Panic kicked in again as he tried to come up with a solution, or at least an idea of what to do. He knew he had to think, and he had to think pretty fast because Charles' life was threatened. He needed to find the kid before it was too late. The main reason behind his dedication was not only to show his worth, but also to keep a child from suffering at an Hughes’ hands ever again. However, Michael's thinking process shattered in pieces when he heard the heartbreaking cries of a kid yelling at the top of his lungs. Blood froze in his veins as he recognized Charles’ voice.

Following the screams, there was a thundering noise of something heavy dropped to the floor, and nothing. Nothing except a chilling silence that brought goosebumps to his pale flesh.

Oh no.

Michael stood still in the loud silence, as petrified as an animal in front of the blinding headlights of a car.

No, no, no!

They’ve killed him, he thought. Of course, they did. Father Hughes was probably not alone in that bloody church, even though Tommy said he did not expect them to come. Someone was here and took advantage of the chaos of his fight with Hughes to grab Charles and hurt him. Whoever his accomplice was, they had just ended Charles's life and it was all his fault. If only he had listened to Arthur. If only he had let the two henchmen do their job and handle the situation. Guilt started to beat him.

Michael shook his head, hoping it was not too late, and ran toward the direction the noise and cries came from. His heart raced in his chest as his legs almost automatically moved, winding up his anxiety like a mechanical toy, and led him to a second room he did not see at first.

“HANDS UP YOU BASTARD!” Michael yelled, storming into the room that was directly linked to a backdoor exit: the perfect spot for Hughes’ accomplice to flee with the kid in case of emergency. Or to kill him in case something happened to the priest. Pointing his gun in front of him, Michael was ready to shoot, hatred blazing in his eyes. He winced at the foul and slightly metallic smell of blood that jumped at his face as he entered the place. Michael was a brave boy. He was ready to use violence. He was ready to actively take part in the family business. Hell, he was even ready to die if that was what he had to do, but there was one thing no one prepared him to face and it was what he saw in this place.

“Oh my God!”

He cried out, his breath hitching with panic as his blue eyes, filled with tears, first caught sight of a second corpse lying in a lake of blood. If Hughes' dead body was already gruesome, it was nothing compared to his accomplice's.

The man, who was strong in stature and impressive in height, was staring at him with blank eyes, silently begging for help. His petrified face, splattered with dark blood, was distorted in a terrified expression as if he had seen the Devil itself before dying. Yet the cause of the poor lad’s death was not fright, but rather the dozen stabbing wounds that scattered his body, and the pair of huge scissors that was deeply stuck into his neck. Michael could not help but step back, so disoriented by the macabre spectacle that was in front of his bewildered eyes that he dropped the gun Tommy had given him. The sound it made when it crashed on the floor caused Charles to cry again.

“Shhhh, everything’s fine Charlie. Everything’s fine. Keep your eyes closed.” A soft and enchanting voice raised in the room, like it did the night Arthur wandered aimlessly to church. For a few seconds, Michael was convinced the voice did not come from a human being. It sounded so foreign, so alluring, it could only belong to an angel of justice, whose avenging blade fell on Hughes' associate. Then he saw her, the creature, and his eyes widened even more.

“Bloody fucking hell.“ He really tried to say something else but his brain could not proceed with the sight of Arthur’s woman holding Charles in her arms, her sweet angel face and frail body entirely covered with crimson stains.

“I know.” You simply replied, one of your hands tenderly resting behind Charles’ head to keep him from looking at the butchered dead man that had fallen on the floor when your scissors tore his jugular vein.

Michael stood still, staring at you with utter shock.

"How?" He managed to ask, one sole tear running down his cheek.

"Please Michael, don't ask questions. I just — I just want to go home." You whispered, the far too familiar smell of blood and after-taste of murder making your head spin. You closed your eyes for one second to keep the traumatizing images of your past from flooding your brain and let out a shaky exhale. When you came back to your senses, you walked to Michael and put Charles in his arms, still careful to keep the corpse out of his sight. Then you left the room.

As you passed by Father Hughes, you stopped and looked at him from above, indescribable hatred blazing in your iris.

"See you in Hell, sale fils de pute — You son of a bitch — "

Michael followed, still unable to keep his eyes away from your mesmerizing frame scattered with blood drop like millions of precious rubies. The way you looked at Hughes' corpse resonated with him so much he could not help but talk.

" Did he..." He left his sentence hanging, but you understood what he meant.

"No, he did not. But he still found another way to be the cause of my sorrow," You glanced at Michael from above your shoulder, "I'm glad you killed this bastard. There are people whose souls can't be saved, and he is one of them."

"Yes, he definitely is." Charles had calmed down in his arms, lulled by the soft movements as Michael walked outside the church by your side, "what about the second man?"

"He was about to kill Charlie and then come for you." You replied, trying your best to forget the unpleasant sensation of half coagulated blood on your delicate skin. Michael took a while to process the information and realized you had probably saved his and Charles' life.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His question brought a faint yet terribly melancholic smile to your lips for it reminded you that you had broken the only promise you did to yourself. The promise of not taking another life ever again.

"Are you?" You replied to his interrogation by another one.

"No, I'm not. I feel... Empty."

"So, you already know the answer."

When the door opened and Michael entered the house with Charles sobbing in his arms, Polly and Ada ran towards him and cried in relief as they hugged the child. Polly soon focused on his own son, whose blank expression left no doubt on what he had to do to save Tommy’s kid… He killed, and it changed him forever. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, checking on him with tears in her eyes, knowing she could not do anything to ease Michael's pain anymore -- and what was more awful for a mother than watching his child suffer without being able to do something about it? What snatched her from the sorrowful conclusion she had come to was Ada’s gasp, who had just realized Michael was not alone. You had followed him, a cold expression etched on your face and a myriad of red ink stains soiling your whiteness.

“She helped,” Michael stated with a tired voice before anyone had the time to say something, “She helped me save him.”

Ada looked at you with surprise, trying to discover the mysteries your traits hid so well, but her focus was far too disrupted by the frightening amount of blood that was covering you. Blood everywhere on the stunning, little, murderous creature she never thought you were. Many questions raged in her skull, like a tornado of thoughts and speculations. After what seemed to be a whole eternity, she managed to speak,

“For God’ sake… It could have been dangerous!” She said, blinded to the simple possibility you had just killed someone without batting an eye, "You are wounded! Look at the blood!"

You sighed and remained silent, stealing the silver cigarette case that was on the nearby furniture. The tip of your tongue moistened your juicy lips, whose corner was stained with red lipstick you smeared all over your skin when you had tried to wipe the blood that had splattered on your face.

"It's not mine."

Your hands were still shaking from what you had to do, unpleasantly recalling their past crimes. Then, you slipped one cigarette between your teeth and lit it with the zippo you found in the pocket of Arthur’s coat that was still on your shoulders. Shivering with cold despite the fire burning in the hearth, you nestled a bit more in his coat in a desperate attempt to find a substitute for your man's comforting warmth.

"I beg your pardon? Whose blood is it?" She almost choked with surprise. Then it struck her. "Heaven..."

You did not say a single word and kept smoking in almost religious silence.

"Who the hell are you?" Ada inquired, her shaky voice coated with an odd mix of fear and fascination stirred by the eerie aura that was all around you.

You took a long puff from your cigarette before staring deep at Ada’s beautiful eyes. You looked at her for a while, then shift your focus on the fire burning in the fireplace. You watched the flames dance, the sound of wood cracking sending shivers down your spine. Ada swallowed, waiting for your answer. She, who had defended you in front of Tommy a bit earlier, could not tell anymore if you were the hero they needed or the villain they had to fear.

Saint or sinner? Spell or prayer? Blessing or curse?

Who are you, she asked.

“I am the one they really should have burned.”

A cloud of smoke came from your mouth as if hellfire was burning within you.

And somehow, it was certainly the case.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

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

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd

[xxsycamore]

𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙍 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙔𝙑𝙀𝙎 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮

↬ 💌 Arthur & Yves reassuring you about your body image, sprinkled with some extra words of affirmation.

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader; Yves Kloss x f!Reader • rating: G • tags: Fluff; Comfort; Insecurity; Body Image; Food • wordcount: 1, 354 • masterlist

For my darling @maries-gallery 💕

ARTHUR:

It's nothing new for Arthur to barge in your shared bedroom, full-well knowing you've just taken a shower - to pretend he's merely looking for something in his belongings, but never exiting the room without stealing a kiss or two.

Today, as usual, you squeal and tie your towel more securely around your form when you see him entering - but while your affection is genuine when you do return the romantic gesture, the way you strictly prevent the fabric from revealing anything leaves an impression on him.

"Shy, Luv? It's not like there's something I haven't seen under that skimpy towel..."

You smack him playfully and change the topic, neither falling prey to his teasing nor going all the way to push him out through the door and lock from the inside. He brushes his earlier suspicions off as nothing, and goes to the wardrobe instead.

"Need help choosing an outfit for the day, doll? Anything specific in mind? Color?"

There's something heartwarming in letting him pick for you, a way to get to know which articles of clothing he loves on you - but the smile disappears from your face when you see him pick up a dress from the depths of the wardrobe.

"Oh my, hello there. How about this one? I can't recall you sporting it in awhile."

You shake your head and sigh, putting an inevitable start to a difficult conversation, hoping that letting it out would at least make things a little better.

You tell Arthur that you've been avoiding certain clothes lately as you just couldn't feel right in them. The image in the mirror produces a cruel comparison most often than not, with dolled-up ladies crossing Paris' streets, their striking forms clad in fashionable outfits, each one prettier than the other. While you're fortunate to be able to acquire what they're wearing via Comte's limitless generosity, the resemblance ends there. Even the dress that Arthur held out just now, soaked in happy memories, seems to have suited your body better at some earlier point in time. Now, you're not so sure.

Somewhere amidst your confession, Arthur has had you seated on the sofa, rubbing gentle circles into your hands. The gesture prevents those hot tears from spilling past the corners of your eyes, and your lover listens to all you have to say before speaking.

"I could say something was troubling you lately. So, that's what it was, hmm? You're in luck, my dear, because I do happen to have a sharp eye, and besides... not to boast, but, I doubt another chap knows your body better than me. I could even compete with you, if needed. I assure you, you haven't changed a bit; it was this morning when I kissed your eyelids good morning and you opened them for the first time of the day to greet mine - the same eyes I love and adore - and then you let me brush your hair because I couldn't stop complimenting the way the morning sun kisses its ends and colors them with its rays. You asked if I ever get tired of it, no? Same as when I compare our fingers, how I compliment the good pair they make when intertwined. You're still the woman I fell head over heels for. So don't let those thoughts erase the beautiful smile from your face, Luv. It's the smile you're always wearing best."

YVES:

Being Yves' lover means having eyes on you every time you're spotted together - or maybe it's him who they're looking at? With his natural looks and the boost coming from his top-notch fashion sense, he's quite eye-catching, and you don't blame others for staring...

With the lately rising insecurities you have about your body come some pretty nasty thoughts: some of which, but not limited to, your lover and his perception of you. Next to the beautiful Yves, you feel your form strikingly unmatching - is someone as observant as the fifth prince able to deny how you mar his image?

It gets worse each time freshly baked sweets are brought into the Domestic affairs faction's office - a bunch of hands nearly bumping into one another in their haste to secure a treat for themselves; full-mounted exclamations of tasting something utterly delectable accompanied by chewing noises. This is just how it is when Yves bakes. And while the princes have surprisingly and wholesomely learned to save a piece for you (even though they're SURE Yves must bake some kind of super-duper special sweets exclusively for his lover!), you don't take advantage of your privilege today again. Someone cheers with "Yay, more for me!" while others jokingly ask if you're being picky about one of the ingredients again - a frequent lie of yours.

Small excuses work with them, but you didn't realize that Yves saw the exchange this time. His brows are furrowed when he approaches you.

"Come with me. I need to talk to you."

Listening to him, Yves' words catch you by surprise as you learn how the situation appears in his eyes. You've been avoiding showing up with him in public; you've been refusing to eat most of what he bakes, you've even refused to wear some of the outfits he picked specially for you.

"You should at least let me know if you don't like my sweets so I can change the ingredients... not that I'm making them all for you! I mean, my brothers eat them too, but... oh, well! They can just make do with what they have!"

No, it's pretty obvious that he bakes everything with you in mind first and foremost... his true tsundere nature brings laughter to your lips, and you feel a little more at ease. And here you thought he nearly lost interest in you.

Before he can get even more confused and hurt by you laughing at him, you take a deep breath and confess what's been troubling you. It's hard for your voice not to waver, and you avoid Yves' clear blue eyes that are getting wider in surprise by the second.

When he takes your hands and makes you meet his gaze, he's furrowing his brow again. You can tell he's going over his words carefully before he lets them flow, the strong emotion making it harder for him.

"I can't believe you! You worried me a lot, making me wonder if you're sick or if you're unhappy being associated with me. Forgive me for thinking this. It's just something that has happened before, because of who I am, so for a second I thought you wouldn't want to be seen with the infamous fifth prince. I'm sorry for doubting you. Now that I know the real reason behind your behavior... I want to tell you something. I can't change the way you look at yourself, or to make you love your body, but I can promise you I always look at you with love. Ever since we became lovers, it's like I want to show you off... don't laugh! I mean it! And it applies to all of you - your looks, but also your sharp mind, your bright personality, your smile, the emotions written in your eyes. And people won't see all of that, and I actually prefer it that way. You're perfect the way you are, but there will always be perfect things about you that only I can see. I keep them to myself because it's embarrassing sometimes, but I will make sure to share them with you more often, seeing that a certain someone is blind to the truth of just how perfect she is! But please know, that just as you accept me for who I am, I too accept you for who you are. What your body looked like, and looks like presently, or how it might change in the future, I already fell inlove with it once, because it's yours. I'm not good with words, so make sure to take notice of my actions too, if you will! And don't hide from me... I want to be here for you when those thoughts come troubling you again."

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[lilyrachelcassidy]

Hi! How are you?

How about tommy shelby being in a marriage with a younger reader , who he often cheats with lizzie , the reader starts living life with parties , friends , shopping and affairs of her own , tommy falls for her but she always rejects his affections .

I never saw something like tjat and i tought it would be interesting

Thank you!

[Additional] summary: Five stages in which Y/N tried to make amends in her relationship with Tommy but failed miserably.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: coarse language, cheating, mentions of alcohol and drugs, some graphics, ANGST (with happy ending my babes) 

Distant

I. rancor

When he opened the front door to their house, midnight walloping on the wall clock, Y/N could immediately tell where Tommy had been. He soon walked into their bedroom, the place that had carried so many memories along with it, good memories actually, those of the time before their relationship had begun to deteriorate. Tommy would stain them now when he would dare to come back to her after the hours' bash, reeking of cigars and courtesans.

The one courtesan she had in particular on the mind - bloody Lizzy.

The envious, little bitch would do anything to demolish the beautiful bond Tommy and her shared, barging and creating a wall of interspace with the last cell of her bloody existence between the two of them. Y/N knew, at the same time, she wasn't barking up the wrong tree and her assumptions about Lizzy were indeed correct; her nostrils could detect a cheap, rancid scent of Lizzy's perfume from miles. And when Tommy would come up late at night, the same scent was invasively clinging to his body, the smell almost smothering for Y/N.

"Are you asleep?" asked Tommy, innocently, as if he had just returned from something that lacked culpability that he was actually dealing with. Taking off his garments, leaving only briefs on, he crawled over to her side of the bed. His breath was huffing down her neck, softly and gratifyingly, but the only thing Y/N could think about was that the mere hours before, it was at somebody else’s neck.

Or other parts of the body Y/N wouldn’t like to think about.

“No, not yet,” she replied, deceptively faking a sweet tone. “Where have you been for such a long time?”

His body tensed marginally, something most people wouldn’t have noticed but a flinch that had become indicative for Y/N within three years. Maybe Tommy could be an excellent master of counterfeiting emotions but his body signs would divulge the truth, guilt stiffening his movements in the slightest.

“Have been off to work with Arthur. Had to deal with Solomons’ people.” He was forging himself under a duvet with her now, one of his arms coiling around her waist.

Y/N’s heart sank; maybe a naive part of her still believed that he wouldn’t lie. “Oh, okay.”

“What have you been up to today?”

And then she told him about the hard way she had tried to busy herself in the vast, barren mansion: she had written some bits for the new novel she had been working on for a couple of months; she had responded to some of his relatives from the extended family who had asked for urgent contact; she had quaffed enormous amounts of coffee while watching the enchanting landscape spreading before their house. She decided to omit the parts when she had felt so lonely, no friends nor family members caring enough to pay a visit, her only companion being Mary - their maid - who owned a rather stiff lip.

In utter earnest, she wished to run away some days, bolting like a stallion in the center of overwhelming grassland and never looking back.

“I was thinking,” Y/N took up again. “Maybe we could go to dinner tomorrow? A new restaurant has been recently opened - ‘L'Arpège’, it’s called. It’s French and I thought-”

“I can’t,” Tommy interrupted, his voice cold but guilty at the same time. “I have a meeting tomorrow... with some clients.”

“Oh...” Another surge of disappointment pierced through her. “May I come with you then?”

“You know, I’d love you to come. It’s just that...” He started fidgeting with words - an attempt to think up an excuse, Y/N realized quickly. “It’s a late-night meeting, Y/N, I just... wouldn’t want to drag you into that. There will be a lot of men, dangerous men. I just think it would be better if... you stayed out of it.”

‘So Lizzy could join you?’ Y/N thought to herself.

She really couldn’t determine what was boiling in her. Anger? Disappointment? She had been far over that emotional state of actually caring for his fabrications after the first time she had caught him cheating, sitting in the pub, his arms tangled around the woman she had learned to abhor.

From that time she had felt numb, indifferent to what he would say. So why, why would those little pangs of pain still sting her so badly, stripping her from the last remnants of dignity?

“I understand,” she said, her voice uncontrollably lower.

“I’m glad you do. So how about I arrange a horse ride for you tomorrow? I’m sure Curly would-”

“I’m okay, Tom. I’ll manage,” Y/N said quickly, butting in, somehow aggressively. But she didn’t pay too much mind to her outburst, really, as unconscious tears started brimming in her eyes. She couldn’t fall apart; not now, not before him. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

After a few hours, Y/N was still awake. Sulky tears already settled, their wet traces desiccating on her skin.

Irrepressibly, she wondered what it would be like to free herself from that agony.

Perhaps, there was the only way to find out.

II. replay (three month earlier)

Y/N was walking down the dim-lit, dungy alley making her way over to The Garrison pub, where Tommy was carrying some business meeting with Arthur and Polly.

She wished to make a surprise for Tommy with her arrival, mollifying his work time with her come-up. After all, he had been working so hard those recent days, returning to their home at bizarrely late hours, his face smudged with weariness and lethargy. Y/N pitied him, really, and had hoped to help him with swarms of paperwork; but he would never accept her offer, always explaining that he wouldn’t want to interlace her with his job.

And she understood.

His attitude towards her had changed too; he wouldn’t be that kind, considerate man she used to remember back in the days. Instead, he was pensive and aloof, and no longer would he try to make those little romantic gestures he used to in the beginnings of their relationship. Y/N didn’t blame him, however; she could tell that he was overworked and perhaps occupied with the assemblage of duties he had on his mind.

Nevertheless, that didn’t discourage her from trying to ease his time. She had a whole plan set in her head - promptly, she would get him out of the meeting, excusing his withdrawal with some urgent family case. Then, they would go over to the bank of the river - the place of their first meeting - and would sit at one of the close-by benches, the pale lantern light irradiating while they relished watching the river water glistening in the moonlight. They could munch on a couple of cookies, Tommy’s favorites, which Y/N had prepared especially for him...

Almost nearing the pub, Y/N sighed at the thought. She could already see the luminous lighting of the place, silhouettes casting shadows, contrasting against the dark streets of the gloomy area. The light sound of chatter and drunken jabber could be heard from that distance, livening the rest of the deadly neighborhood that was probably asleep.

Y/N was humming a song under her breath as she approached. A small smile was welcoming her face, the enthusiasm bustling within her. The cookies were pleasantly rattling in her purse as she stopped in her tracks, face to face with the pub window, and she looked in, attempting to spot Tommy in the middle of the teeming crowd.

She scanned the insides of the room: so many familiar faces she used to come upon so many times. They were all laughing and chanting, beer pints happily cradled in their hands, apparently enjoying their heedless time. Y/N’s gaze traveled further, slowly and carefully, over to a distant corner - Arthur was sitting there, laughing at something John had murmured into his ear, the contents of his pint dangerously rocking from one side to another; next to him were also Polly, guffawing, Finn, Ada, and...

Oh, what the fu-

Y/N’s heart spun at an unexpectedly fast pace and dropped into her stomach. Not sure whether she was seeing properly, Y/N pinched herself on the arm, checking if what was displaying just before her eyes was real - but indeed, Tommy was rested on one of the very seats of the mushy sofa. One of his arms was tightly wrapped around Lizzy, from what she knew his secretary, tugging her over to his side, their bodies menacingly close to one another.

For just a moment, Y/N thought - no, hoped - that perhaps she was hallucinating, her tiredness hazing the reality from her. Maybe she was overthinking that. Maybe it was just a friendly hug, Tommy’s drunken stupor rendering him more neglectful of holding his usual, cold composure towards the others.

But she was wrong, she realized, when Tommy leaned towards Lizzy, his grip tightening on her arm, eyes sparkling and warm. And he kissed her, passionately, not the way he would use to do that with Y/N now. His lips zealously landed on Lizzy’s, the hungry desire detectable in the action. Visibly, he was enjoying himself, and so was Lizzy whose hands were roving all over his body, eventually stopping at his head and playing with some random strands of his silky hair.

Y/N's heart was going a million miles an hour, and she suddenly felt it difficult to swallow. Her mouth went dry, and there was a lump of a fist size in her throat. Bitter tears quickly started accumulating in her eyes, and she swore she couldn’t breathe for a moment. All she wanted was to curl into a little ball on the swampy floor and lie there forever.

Instead, she just stared into the window, not taking in whatever she had just witnessed in front of her. The tears were streaming down her face, her eyes becoming puffy within seconds.

So he was cheating. For how long? And why?

Was it because of her? Had she done something wrong?

All of the thoughts gushed into her head like a flowing waterfall, and Y/N hated herself for having that much negativity garnered in her.

Clasping the hand on her mouth and preventing a nasty gasp from escaping from it, she turned away rapidly and ran away from the place. She was taking long strides, wishing to be back at home and able to writhe under a warm blanket, crying until the emotions were sucked out of her. Little was she aware of where she was heading as the tears fogged her vision, the flux of despair washing over her.

He had stopped caring.

He was indifferent towards hurting her, and so naively did she believe in his lies, vindicating him from his get-together with Lizzy.

She had trusted him. And now, she hated herself for being far too gullible.

III. rust

“You sure you wanna do this?” asked Isaiah, his fingers toying with the hem of Y/N’s skirt. His eyes were fully dilated in lust, and he was probably just asking as a matter of precaution, inspecting whether Y/N was actually serious about her quest and whether the revolt against his boss was worth it.

She nodded fervently. “Yes, I am.”

It was all about to begin - tit for tat Tommy had triggered her to do. Within months that had lacked intimacy and communication, Y/N had learned to become impassive. If he didn’t need her, nor did she need him.

“And Tommy won’t find out, yeah?” he asked.

She nodded, breathing deeply. “Certainly.”

At that, he tilted slightly and planted kisses all over her neck, his minty breath tickling the hair on her skin. “As you wish,” he whispered into her ear, his tone shoving a couple of steamy images in her head.

Y/N wasn’t sure if that was what she actually wanted. A part of her, the more moral one, told her warningly that whatever she was intending to do was not good and unfair towards her husband to whom she had sworn unconditional commitment. The other side, however, justified her motives; if he could act promiscuously, why couldn’t she? She really couldn’t decide how to feel.

In the meantime, Isaiah was just casting off his shirt and carefully unbuttoning Y/N’s blouse. He was in the midway of taking care of their clothes, clearly unbothered with keeping up loyalty to his boss. His lips, more chapped than Tommy’s, were all over her skin, igniting a great passion in every place he kissed. The soft moans were slipping from her lips while she laid underneath him, the pressure of his weight making her pleasantly warm.

When Y/N encountered Isaiah for the first time was during one of the Peaky Blinders’ gatherings that Tommy had called up in their house. Of course, one of the participants of it had been Lizzy too, though she had restrained from throwing herself at Tommy in Y/N’s presence.

But Y/N had noticed their sneaky glances from across the room and the fueling smirks on their lips. That was all confirmation Y/N had had to receive.

At that moment, she hadn’t been thinking clearly, plainly acting on her impulses - after the meeting, she had secretly grabbed Isaiah by the robes and hauled him to the guest room where they had made out until the air was sucked out of them. She hadn’t felt guilt nor shame, only a sweet taste of vengeance coursing through her body.

Today was their fourth get-together. Yet it was somehow different than the previous times - they had never crossed the level of carnality other than kissing and touching.

Blame was margining with her reasonable thinking and acutely reminding her that she could be so over that jealousy; she didn’t need to do that to herself in order to punish Tommy. At least for her, she did punish him in her mind.

‘But he cheated too,’ Y/N told herself. ‘So it’s an eye for an eye, basically.’

Isaiah’s mouth was on her belly now, a growl rumbling in his chest, and he was placing kisses all the way from her breasts to her abdomen, the intense want pooling in her lower parts. Y/N found herself reaching down to wrap her fingers in his black hair, gripping roughly and arching her back. The tension within her was unbearable.

His eyes flickered up to meet Y/N’s gaze once more, briefly, asking for the ultimate permission to take her tongs off. The breath was heaving in both of them, their chests falling and raising to the intermittent heartbeats.

“Do it. Please.”

IV. ravage

“Hello, love,” said Tommy, cheerfully, entering the threshold of the office where Y/N was currently working on her novel. A moss woolen sweater was enfolding her arms, gray sweatpants pulled on and strapped around her waist; the homy outfit she would wear only around the house and still manage to look absolutely glamorous. Her hair was twisted in a loose bun, the glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose with a seamless dose of sophistication.

She gave him a half-smile when he approached her, pecking her cheek, but didn’t tear her gaze away from the typewriter where a virtually written page was scurrying to the last dot. Her fingers were briskly flying from one button onto the next one, and when she was finished, she purred in gratification and riveted to her husband.

“Done?”

“Yes.” She stretched her arms above her head, smiling, whereas Tommy leaned on the verge of the desk. “A good day too?”

He nodded in response, a faint smile gracing his lips. “So I was thinking, maybe we should go to that restaurant you were talking about earlier,” he said, without preamble, his tone disclosing a certain assertion, not a hint of invitation Y/N wished for.

He wasn’t asking her out; he was informing her of his plans with her.

A lava slide of anger and resentment swept away her rationality. How the fuck could he kick her around like that, ill-treating her for a couple of weeks, and then deciding on what she should do after Lizzy had probably met up with her other client, consequently cock-blocking him? There was that particular self-assurance with which Tommy had told her, or ‘offered’ her, a dinner that had tossed her patience aside; she wasn’t his possession after all. And she wanted to make a fair point out of that. 

Something in her expression apparently crumpled because Tommy was ogling her with interested eyes, a wary eyebrow raised in query. “What do you think of that?”

“Oh, so now you’re asking,” said Y/N in a huff.

He frowned. “What are you on about?”

Unsuccessfully thwarting herself from a word vomit, she stood up so that her face could level up with Tommy’s, her eyes raging. His, on the other hand, were confused and in no apparent cognition of the upcoming tantrum. “In the last weeks, you did nothing to acknowledge our relationship. To acknowledge me. All I did was try to go out with you, or do something together, whatever you wanted. But instead, you dismissed all of that. And I don't understand why it’s so bloody difficult for you to include me in your life.” She took a pause, eyes filming over with hands flinging all over the place. “And now you are inviting me - no - telling me, that you decided to finally find some spare time for me. Oh, how generous of you.”

“You know the company is giving me a hard time. I go the extra mile to make things work, and that’s your effing gratitude?” he said angrily, and now with a hint of indignation tainting in voice.

“Oh please, give me a break,” she snapped, even more furious and glaring. As never, or at least never in front of her, Tommy’s face was incandescent, and his jaw popping from all the heavy clenching. “I saw you with Lizzy back in the days, snogging back in the pub. Were you working then too?”

He blinked, thunderstruck, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something but lacked words for that. The steely glare was locked on Y/N, perhaps transfixed with how he should respond to the crude truth he had no idea his wife had found out about. Ultimately, he pressed his lips together and took a step forward. “Perhaps if you weren’t so incongruous and childish, maybe I wouldn't need Lizzy for anything. And not behaving like a fuckin’ nun, Y/N.”

Ouch. It stung her.

Awfully, as though he had slapped her with full force.

Or maybe that would have hurt less.

Y/N took a step back, tears of rage and frustration trickling down her face. So there he was: pinning the responsibility of his infidelity on her, absolute dearth of shame for calling his wife out and, in lieu, defending his slip with the woman who had been mounting him for no other reason but money. She felt a dull ache in her chest, and her body stiffened. Evidently aware that he had crossed the line, his eyes changed back, the distinctive traces of regret in them. His arm lifted and, for a moment, attempted to take a hold of her hand as a form of placation. But she pushed him away, the spleen raising in her chest. “I’m going back to my parents’.”

“Y/N,” he began, strained, trying to get a hold of her but in vain. She just shook her head and retreated, doing her best to prevent herself from spilling any tears for him.

“Don’t fucking try to contact me. I’m gonna leave and... and-”

“Y/N.” His tone was pleading now, and so were his eyes. He tried to reach for her again but met with another compulsion of rebuff. “I’m so so-”

“Shut it!”

Without bothering to give him a second glance and afraid that he would see how much the conversation had shaken her, she turned on her heel and dashed out of the room. Not completely conscious of what she was doing, she headed to the wardrobe to fetch some of her belongings.

Tommy didn’t chase her, and mindfully so. She wasn’t able to face him right now after what he had told her; so, he had thought Lizzy better. In shade of the relationship, she hadn’t known that she had been razing.

Her shoulder stiffed at the thoughts in her mind, horror and moroseness coursing through her body.

If he really had enough of her, she won’t be a burden for him anymore. She will happily retreat.

V. recovery: a new start 

It had been two months since Y/N had last heard from Tommy. Yes, against her plea not to, he had tried to contact her. And yes, he had arrived at her parents’ doorstep a dozen times. But her family was supportive of her and the resolutions she had made, accordingly dismissing Tommy from their house.

The fact was that Y/N reckoned living with her parents as a tad shaky and inconvenient - after all, she had to obey the prevailing rules they had in their household (which some Y/N had thought ridiculous for plentiful reasons). Their watchful and condescending remarks weren’t a charm either. At the same time, however, she felt like she finally unchained herself from the venomous aura of the Mansion she had inhabited a while ago; and it hadn’t felt like home to her anymore.

And so she enjoyed her old childhood room she had left behind years ago, chalk-white walls still reminding her of the times she had drawn at them with the crayons, to enlighten the area.

Y/N was laying face-down on the satin, pukey-pink sheets, a rumbling in her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t had any breakfast yet (although, it was already afternoon). Nose pressed to the pillow, she mentally braced herself for today’s plans - proffered by her father, they had to drop in at the Mansion to fix the rest of the clothing she had abandoned.

Obviously, it wasn’t a very pleasant thought to say at least; but if she wanted to move forward, perhaps start a new chapter of her life she close the preceding one. And she wanted to do both so badly.

The doors cracked while flinging wide open and Y/N’s mom walked into the room.

“Why aren’t you out of bed yet? Are you alright?”

“Yes, ma, don’t worry about that,” she said while staking out a sitting position. She covertly glanced over at her mom who was standing in the door frame, her attire absolutely irreproachable with a corsage, her face genuinely worried.

“Crying again, were you, Cherie?” Had she? Y/N hadn’t noticed before until now when her hand touched the tear-stained face. “We can talk about that if-“

“Ma, no, please. I’ve been over that,” she said, her lip subconsciously letting out a small tremble. “I…just don’t want to talk… about him.”

Mom’s eyes were sympathetic and her mouth was moving, but Y/N had muffled all the sounds coming from the peripherals with her torrent of thoughts. She had been through that so many times; Mom, usually at the end of the day, would attempt to approach the topic in many ways. Y/N would always deny it, however, deciding that it was still far too hurtful to discuss him.

As the three o’clock was rounding, Y/N was already sitting in the rear of the car with her father behind the wheel. They had barely exchanged any word throughout the entire journey as Y/N tried to deal with her volley of emotions - anxiousness, itching dejection, a jot of bitterness? She couldn’t decide, really. But she was keenly aware of a fist-size lump forming in her throat and a sharp ache expanding in her chest.

Before Y/N could notice, a stream of tears was freely rushing down her cheeks. She secretly tried to wipe them off but she knew that her father had caught sight of her emotional outburst in the rear-view mirror. Yet he made no comment to which Y/N was extremely thankful.

“Here we’re sweetheart,” said Father after another half an hour had slipped. Y/N shortly glanced out of the window - indeed, the stony, colossal walls of the mansion were spreading before their sight. Y/N had to quell an instantaneous urge to run away as she slowly, carefully reached for the handle and reluctantly stepped out of the car.

“I’ll be here, yeah? In case you need me.”The Father’s voice distinctly echoed in her ears but Y/N only heard that like through a haze. She merely sent him a grateful smile in response and silently received his form of succor.

‘It’ll all be gone in a few minutes,’ Y/N thought to herself, trudging towards the entrance of the Mansion. So many times had she passed that threshold, so many times had she walked that way. Was it all going to become nothing but a remote memory now?

Soon, she was heavily knocking on the door and was faced with her former maid’s smile who, with a hand gesture, was welcoming her and spurring her to come inside. After a moment of waver, Y/N finally gave in.

Strangely, she had expected the maid to show her a way to the bedroom because she didn’t belong there, not anymore; she was just trespassing like a mere guest did. But when the maid remained at the door, staring at her with a curious eye, Y/N understood the allusion - she was meant to go by herself.

And so she did.

Those stately oil paintings were still strewing the white walls and as Y/N plodded and plodded on through the high-celling halls. Her heels were almost stridently clicking on the floor, contrasting with the prevailing silence and her heavy breathing. Y/N did her best to focus on something else, anything else that could render her less nervous for the upcoming; she decided on counting.  

One, two, three. One, two three...

In the next instant, she was standing in front of the mahogany door of the bedroom. It wasn’t going to be easy, she knew as much. Even if indifferent throughout their relationship, Thomas Shelby was a man of honor after all, and Y/N, certain in her conviction, was sure that he was waiting just behind that very door.

She waited a few more jiffs, bracing herself mentally, before finally swinging the door ajar and instantly beholding him, settled on the edge of the bed, and staring blankly at the brim of the glass he was tightly clutching in his hand. As soon as he heard her, however, his head snapped in her direction and Y/N quickly noticed the bloodshot whites of his eyes mixed with the steeliness of his orbs.

Per usual, top-notch elegance was radiating from him, his fossil-gray suit in an intact state and hair precisely sleeked to the back of his head. He had changed, however; he had become gaunt, so gaunt actually that Y/N could practically make out an outline of his ribs through a thin layer of his white shirt; the bags under his eyes, dark and cavernous, were giving the definite reminder of how much of a good night sleep he had missed out on; the wrinkles on his forehead marginally deepened, giving him an older appearance of what Y/N actually knew to be a true one...

It wasn’t the same Tommy Y/N had memorized the last time. Now he looked positively ghastly and it required a great composure of Y/N from quelling a gasp.

“Y/N,” said Tommy in a hoarse voice. Hadn’t she been a short distance from him, she wouldn’t have heard him at all. He scrambled to his feet at once, never tearing his gaze away from her figure as if in the trance. “Could we talk?”

Y/N wavered. Perhaps if he didn’t look as desperate and if she wasn’t so worried (yes! worried!) by his utterly unhealthy appearance, she probably would have rebuffed. But in lieu, she merely nodded and trotted to the chair opposite the bed.

Sensing a thick air between the two of them, Tommy got up and poured himself an ample slug of whiskey, and after a moment’s consideration, he also asked Y/N to which she declined. He took a few gulps before finally looking at Y/N again.

“I’ve missed you,” he croaked finally, which Y/N knew cost him a great deal since it was particularly hard for Tommy to speak of his emotions. The fingers of his free hand were fidgeting slightly on his knee as Y/N glanced up at him, streaked with utter astonishment. She wanted, so badly, to tell herself that his words didn’t matter anymore, nothing anymore did but it would have been a fat lie. She knew for that fact because it was suddenly extremely hard for her to swallow.

“Er-” She started looking around the room, busing herself with something, deliberately not gazing in his direction. “I’ve come to pick up the rest of my things, Tommy. If you want to atone for anything, I think it’s a little too late now.”

Even Y/N surprised herself that she had managed such a cold, collected tone; in fact, it was the opposite of what she was right now - jittery and emotional.

“Y/N-”

“Please, don’t” She chimed in before Tommy could say anything again. “I don’t want to explain anything. You... you hurt me, Tommy.” It was difficult for her to carry that out loud but when she ultimately did, she felt a thunderbolt of plunging emotions on her chest; and then, the tears began accumulating uncontrollably in her eyes. Quickly, she turned her face to the side, trying to conceal her waterworks, though unnecessarily so.

An uncomfortable grunt issued from Tommy’s throat and he took the next quaff from the glass, waiting for her to get a hold of herself. He had always been massively fazed when girls cried in his presence, even give it his wife of three years. Never had he understood why anyone would display their lack of self-possession in such an ostentatious way.

“Sorry,” said Y/N finally, wiping the residue of her tears with a hand. She sniffed a little, her eyes puffy, and Tommy offered her a silky handkerchief which she gladly accepted.

“That's alright,” said Tommy, giving her a final look of what he hoped was sympathy. “But please, let me just say one thing. Before, you know...”

‘-decide to leave you,” Y/N ended the sentence in her head. The mere prospect of abandoning him now, even though she had deliberated that for long days in her parents' room, was suddenly very suffocating.

With a final sniff, still keeping her gaze downcast, she nodded. After all, even though he had mauled her massively, as much as she could do in a final commemoration of their relationship.

“I’ve never intended on making you feel inferior, Y/N,” admitted Tommy, a flint of guilt flickering in his eyes, his fingers starting to draw nervous patterns on his knee again. As for someone who had always kept themself still, he seemed exceptionally vulnerable right now. “Lizzy - that was a mistake. She was a fuckin’ mistake. I... I...” His voice relatively faltered, and Y/N thought for a second that he might start crying. Thomas Shelby crying - the world was fucking weird. “All I want to say is that I’m sorry. God, if I could have turned back time, it all would have... been different. I don’t want you to fuckin’ leave, Y/N. Those past few months made that excruciatingly lucid to me.”

It was one of those moments in Y/N’s life when she didn’t know what she ought to say or even ought to feel. There was seething anger and hiccuping sadness simmering in the pit of her stomach, her head pounding loudly from all the aggregation of conflicting emotions; but there was a certain self-satisfaction raising within her - it was what she had wanted from the very beginning, making him entreat her for forgiveness, implore to stay.

“Tommy,” Y/N said heavily, her entire body tingling. “You know, I can’t do that.”

And then she looked at him again, his eyes conveying a magnetic force. They were staring at each other for some time, the desperation between the two aloft. It was all as if they were strangers to each other anew.

“Please, let me... make amends for that.”

“Tommy-”

“And I don’t mean that you have to move in with me instantly, tough as much as I’d like that. But... have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. No strings attached, just a casual dinner. In the restaurant that you wanted to visit - ‘L'Arpège’.”

“You... you remembered? After all that time?” Y/N took a dramatic pause there, her brows knitted together and almost pressing into one line. That sudden fact clouted her with a startling force.

“I haven’t been entirely ignorant towards you, Y/N. Some part of me... always looked out for you, you know. Though a better part of me was still a jerk,” he snickered and, not quite able to suppress it, so did his interlocutor. Until just now, she hadn’t been aware of how much she had missed that smile. “So what do you say?”

She noticed how his eyes swiveled with tendrils of hopefulness, how his fingers nervously anticipated her contemplated answer. Rationality, which she was utterly bereft of at that very moment, would have told her to say no; give a wide berth from that shit show. But a piece of her yet girlish tempt to discover that new Tommy who was opening himself in front of her eyes, something he had never done before, would be forcing its way to make things work.

At least, try to put them back in their rough maquette.

Y/N sighed, before bestowing him with a coy smile. “I guess, I can find some time.”

Through fucking thick and thin.

XOXOXOXOX

A/N: my dear sweet sweet anon. hi! i’m fine, thank you. foremost, let me just express my utter self-deprecation, seeing as you have sent that request a long time ago and i’m posting it just now. the work load has plunged on me since the beginning of September and I literally dropped my face off the earth for a couple of weeks. but i hope you understand. 

the fic wasn’t entirely as i planned that out because a) it was supposed to be shorter, b) because I'm still lacking some twists that would have made the work even longer. so I reluctantly abstained. 

ofc, I always love hearing and talking to y’all, so chat with me, request, ask me the most embarrassing questions in the comment section. whatever. and may i remind you - spooktober?! are we going to do something about that!? (a small hint: yes, we are going to either hold a little event or be graced - somehow - with another chapter of my WIPs). Lovvvvveveeee y’all xoxo

[yanderedreamer]

If requests are open could you pretty please do some Merlin hcs? 😩🥺

Yandere Merlin / gender-neutral reader.

Synopsis: General yandere headcanons.

Warnings: Blood-drinking.

When Merlin realised that you're someone whose future he couldn't see, his interest is immediately piqued. His younger self had been hurt by the truth that no matter what he did, he can never alter the outcome of a predetermined future. But you were an anomaly he found, a sliver of hope that the cycle of destiny can be broken. He then decides to dedicate his time in watching over you from his tower in Avalon.

He eventually finds himself clinging to you like a child and calls you his Hope of Avalon, which he chants under breath whenever his eyes follow your form. Soon, he realises that simply watching you isn't enough; he needs to be near you, he needs to feel you.

Since his illusions can affect the human psyche, he can easily invade your dreams and interact with you there. You were surprised when you first met him in the middle of a spring flower field under the winter stars. The fact that a beautiful and charming man like him knew you made you flustered, and that sight of you made Merlin unable to resist covering your mouth as he kisses the back of his hand.

Thanks to his unique skill, Independent Manifestation, he was able to summon himself as your Servant while you were wishing for the male Arthur Pendragon, effectively sabotaging the summoning ritual. Merlin's unexpected appearance surprised you greatly but you were happy about it nevertheless. Merlin then invited you for a hug by spreading his arms, which Mordred who was with you at the time found odd. She later warns you to not fully trust Merlin but with how kindly he treats you, you heed her warning lightly.

Although Merlin is mostly used as a support for your Buster Servants, he'd insist that you use him as a damage dealer too. His B strength isn't just for show, and he proves himself when he effortlessly decimated the enemy Servants that attempted to take you hostage with his Excalibur during a mission. With his signature smile, he happily announced that you're safe before hugging you tightly.

When you've rayshifted to another era for an expedition, Merlin would make you sleep on his lap, claiming that it's more comfortable than the cold ground and that it'll be easier for him to watch over you this way. Unbeknownst to you, once you have fallen under sleep's spell, he would devour your dream and absorb the emotions within it. He then cups your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he licks his lips. Your dream is wonderful, and he wonders if your blood will taste the same? Baring his fangs, he brings his face closer to your lips but swiftly pulls back when Bedivere shows up with a blanket for you.

The Magus of Flowers thinks that you're not appreciated enough in Chaldea. You have worked so hard to save humanity and proof of your efforts are shown in the scars you got from the countless battles you fought in. As he traces every scar, he sings you praises and tells you how proud he is to have you as his Master. You take comfort in his embrace and miss the eery glow of his violet hues.

Merlin follows you around Chaldea much like Fou does. He speaks of the king's tales and the fascinating events he observed from his tower in Avalon. You're unaware that as he chats away with you, he also uses his clairvoyance to steer you both clear of the Servants seeking your attention. How foolish of them to think that an inhuman mage like him is generous enough to share you with them.

When Merlin devoured your dream for the first time, he was overwhelmed. Your dream is so pleasant to the heart and he immediately became addicted. Your dreams are full of love that every time he absorbs the subtleties of your heart, his obsession for you only grows - to the point where he'd lose touch with his human side and give in to his carnal desires.

As he removes his intricate white robe, he crawls into bed with you in the middle of the night just to watch you sleep, his arms carefully holding your delicate body that could easily snap under his full strength. It reminds him just how weak yet strong humans are against fate. Merlin can be as lecherous as his incubus side, but he'll save that for the inevitable moment he traps you in Avalon with him.

Merlin's addiction to your dreams should not be taken lightly. He'll run around Chaldea like a starved beast if you're separated from him for even a day. Once he finds you, he'll pounce on you without warning and sink his fangs into your pulse in deep bites. He immediately laps up the blood drawn and since there's mana in your blood... you'll be in for a long night with a hungry incubus.

Sooner or later, Merlin will whisk you away to his tower once he feels that he's had enough fun in the present world. You'll spend the rest of eternity in the sealed utopia with him, where you'll be happy and protected by his magic. At least, that's what he believes.

Don't be sad, you can dream as much as you'd like in Avalon - and he'll make sure that they're pleasant dreams too! He casts a powerful illusion spell on you when he kisses your forehead, and catches your body in his arms as you fall in an unending slumber. You won't be alone in your dreams because he'll be there, spending your happily ever after with you. You can never run away from him, even in your dreams.

[daisyblinder]

Oooohh so happy to see your requests open and congrats on 1k!! Could you do head cannons of the Peaky Boys with an SO who gets night terrors/really bad dreams? Currently dealing with this situation myself 🫠

I'm so sorry to hear that darling 🥺🧡 I hope this makes you feel at least a little better, though I know when sleeping is difficult it really bleeds into other aspects of your life as well 🤗 (big hug coming to you)

Peaky boys with an SO who has night terrors

🦋Arthur

🦋 Arthur knows a thing or two about night terrors. He used to have them every single night when he came back from France

🦋 When he notices you making sudden movements in your sleep, breath shallowing or tears running down your face, he will gently start stroking your hair and arm while saying your name

🦋 He doesn't want to wake you up with a start but he wants to pull you away from the terror as soon as possible

🦋 When you finally wake up, he will pull you against him tightly, and I mean so tightly that you feel like there is not even air separating you

🦋 He does it because he wishes he could take away your terror that way, but he knows he can't. So he cries with you but he cries of feeling helpless in not being able to help you

🦋 Arthur will try to gently get you to tell him about what's causing it or what they are about but if you react negatively he will shut his questions immediately

🦋 If you don't want to sleep for the rest of the night, he will stay awake with you. Playing cards, listening to you read, drawing...

🦋 He also makes sure you are able to nap. He sneaks you into his office and claims that he has a job for you but in truth he has made Finn and John carry in a sofa so you can try to catch some sleep while he is working next to you

🦋 Makes sure that you don't have to sleep without him when you are having a bad time with the night terrors, so he makes excuses to why he can't go run errands in a different city

🦋 "Can't go to London, me chicken is ill"

🦋 When you hear him say that on the phone, you feel bad but can't help giggling and once he hangs up, you hug him from behind, overwhelmed by affection

🦋 "I'm no bloody chicken"

🦚 Thomas

🦚 Tommy is also a certified expert on night terrors

🦚 But he won't let you try his methods to cure yours

🦚 Whereas Arthur is more gentle and stops prodding if you don't wish to speak, Tommy will prod till he sees you are truly at your limit

🦚 He doesn't do it to me be mean but Tommy is keen on having control, and not having control over something that is clearly hurting you, agitates him

🦚 When he notices the signs you are having a nightmare, he will gently shake you awake

🦚 Once you do, he will shush your cries softly while cupping your face, making you look him in the eyes

🦚 He will whisper the softest things to you

🦚 "Shh, sweetheart, look at me. Love, look at me. Nothing is coming to get you. There we go, my beautiful darling, all safe and sound here with me"

🦚 If you wish to open up to him right away, the two of you will lie facing each other, noses almost touching while he takes in every word

🦚 He will always give you a massage after your nightmares to relax you

🦚 After Thomas is done massaging you, he starts running his fingers along your back while talking to you about something that will take your mind somewhere else

🦚 If you don't feel like sleeping anymore, that is what you do for the rest of the night, but if you do sleep; Thomas will continue his ministrations to make sure you sleep well

💋John

💋John will want to pull you away from your terrors in a flash, that is why he can sometimes shake you awake or call out to you a little too roughly

💋 But once you awaken, he will become the gentlest of men

💋 He will pull your face to the crook of his neck, knowing that his scent and proximity will remind you of safety even in your frazzled state

💋 John is not the most tactful with words so he will keep gently stroking your back while whispering one thing he knows you love hearing

💋 "I'm here, love, Johnny's here"

💋 He will not prod you to talk to him, he knows that if you want to talk, you will. So he just continues his soothing ministrations till you give a cue you want something else

💋 One thing John is also set on, is making sure you are snuggled up in blankets. He knows how the softness and the warmth can feel like a fort against all evil, so he will bundle you up

💋 He will also manage to make you laugh, without actually trying. John is dead set on not leaving you alone even for a minute, so when you ask him for water, he makes you go with him to the kitchen to get it

💋 And if you don't want to, he kind of forgets the beginning of the situation and gets pissy

💋 That's what makes you laugh and forget the terror for a minute. Because it's those moments that you realize how much John truly loves you

💋 When you come back from your water drinking trip, he sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you to sit between his legs, against his chest

💋 In that position you can feel his breathing, his heartbeat and the soothing vibration of his voice when he speaks. After a while he always taps at his chest

💋 "Feel that, love? It beats to keep you safe and loved"

[witchthewriter]

Can I please request some headcanons of Arthur Pendragon (BBC Merlin) falling in love with a soft, kind hearted witch with healing powers, please? Thank you so much!! ✨🖤✨

𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

SFW🌿

⭑ You would be the first to admit that you don’t fit into the beauty standard. And for much of your life, you thought love was something that would only happen to others. 

⭑ Until Arthur saw you in the town’s markets. You didn’t know it was the king, and you had no reason to look up at the man staring at you. 

⭑ He saw the way the sun shone on your hair. You looked otherwordly. Like you didn’t belong on earth, or that you were earth herself. 

⭑ For weeks he watched from afar. Making excuses to ‘be among his people,’ but really he was seeking you out. And whenever he did, butterflies fluttered within him. 

⭑ Merlin noticed what was going on as well. And did his best not to tease Arthur. (which really means he teased him relentlessly...)  

⭑ So with encouragement, Arthur approached you one sunny mid-morning. A basket in one arm and the other tucking a stray hair behind your ear. 

 “Hello,” he spoke as if he was giving an announcement. And it made you jump. 

     “Oh! Ugh, hi-” you peered up at the handsome king, heat spreading across your cheeks. 

⭑ He asked you if you wanted to accompany him on a picnic. And although you were apprehensive, something inside you wanted to go. 

⭑ It was a lovely day when he met you in front of your home. Until you reached the forest and it started to rain. At every point something went wrong. But somehow, just being with him was enough. 

⭑ Your kindness astounds him, and affects him more than you’d ever know. He treats his subjects with more respect. 

⭑ He loves how animals will randomly come up to you. Strays, birds, mice. You name it, they’re drawn to you. 

⭑ Little did he know your good-nature was because of your beliefs. As a witch, nature is important to you. Animals are just as important as humans and treat the earth with respect. 

⭑ As your relationship progressed, you felt more and more guilty that Arthur didn’t know about your powers. 

⭑ Not only did you practice witchcraft, but you were able to use magic with your will. 

⭑ Merlin would sense you. He would notice that certain things were happening when you were around. At first he was suspicious. But he too started to watch you from afar. 

⭑ You had such a gentle hand with everything that you encountered that Merlin knew you would be perfect for Arthur and for Camelot. 

⭑ Telling Arthur was one of the toughest things you had ever had to do. The look on his face was like a knife to the chest. He felt betrayed. Like you had been a different person this whole time. 

⭑ He didn’t talk to you for a few weeks. And your heart felt broken. But you held no ill will against him. Only Uther, for putting such demeaning thoughts into his head. 

⭑ But Arthur couldn’t get you out of his mind. You were like no other person he had met before. Your kindness... soft heart...the intuition in which he trusted... 

⭑ Merlin would be upset with Arthur. Because in a way, it felt like Arthur was rejecting him too. 

⭑ “I didn’t know you and Y/N were so close,” Arthur mumbled after the third day of the silent treatment. 

    “You won’t find someone as good as her. Not ever.” Merlin replied, tensing his shoulders. 

⭑ It took Arthur, because of his stubbornness, another two days to see you. He was stoic until he saw you. Your hands seemed to glow, brighter than the sun and where they were directed, everything bloomed. 

⭑ His heart stopped in his chest. 

⭑ You were engaged only a mere month later

⭑ And Camelot rejoiced, for another powerful person was there to protect them from harm

⭑ Even if they didn’t know it was you

⭑ You’re always adamant that you need to go on quests. You can heal anyone that is injured. 

⭑ The Knights know, even though they don’t fully understand it 

⭑ Merlin would reveal his secret to you, but you swore never to tell anyone 

⭑ You and Leon get on very well

⭑ You’ve saved a lot of people from dying 

⭑ And Arthur thinks you’re a goddess

⭑ Although he is a bit intimidated by you (but would never admit it)

[shookspearewrites]

Heya @i-am-totally-a-weirdo my lil duckling, how are ya doing? Y’all will be excited to know that I finally finished uni! So I’ve got so much more time now to write ^^ I have missed you all so much 💛

- JJ x

~~~~~~~~~~

Theodorus van Gogh:

MC giggled as she clinked glasses with Arthur again and took a sip of her cocktail; Her cheeks flushed with warmth and painted peach, her pretty eyes gleaming with joy even in the terribly lit pub. The beautiful lady nuzzled her cheek against Arthur’s shoulder, smiling softly to herself when her friend snaked his arm around her waist to help hold her up and smirked down at her warmly, “You doing alright down there, luv?”

MC hiccupped and blushed bashfully, her crystalline eyes meeting Arthur’s own pair, “Mhm, don’t tell anyone but,” she raised her head to whisper into her friend’s ear, “I might be a little bit drunk.” The young woman giggled when met with Arthur’s expression of affection and faux-shock, “Am I in trouble?”

The Brit cupped his friend’s cheek and gently caressed her skin with his thumb, “Not at all, poppet.” Arthur put his now empty glass down on the bar and stood himself up on slightly wobbly legs before offering MC his hand, “Come on now, MC. Let’s get you home.” MC stood herself up slowly and took an unsure step toward Arthur. Her high heel caught on one of the legs of the stool she was sat on, causing the lady to fall forward into Arthur’s arms, the two of them landing with a hard thud on the wooden floor. 

“Hondje, what the fuck-?” Theodorus van Gogh, MC’s fiancé who’d just arrived in the pub from a busy day at work, scowled at the sight of his lover, drunk and straddling his best friend’s lap on the floor, both of their faces flushed red with embarrassment. 

“T-Theo,” MC met Theo’s cold, steely stare and scrambled to stand herself up, stumbling on her high heels and pulling her jacket closer to her chest, wanting to hide away from the prying eyes and drunken laughs of the pub’s other patrons. The Dutchman grabbed his lover’s wrist and pulled her out of the pub, his expression cold and unreadable as he strode towards their carriage whilst MC had to almost run to keep up with his long strides, “Theo, listen, let me explain-”

“Genoeg, hondje,” he almost growled, jealousy flooding his gentle heart when he glanced back and saw MC’s pink cheeks and the worry and tears pooling in her pretty eyes. He tired to gulp down the lump in his throat as he flung open the carriage door and ushered his beloved inside, following her in and shutting the door after he told the coachman where to take them. Theo glared at MC from where he sat on the plush velvet seat opposite her, cocking an eyebrow and crossing his arms across his chest, “What happened?”

Tears began to roll down MC’s cheeks as she cowered under Theo’s gaze, her throat dry as she tried to stutter out her explanation, “I h-had too much to drink and, and my heel caught o-on my stool and I fell. I didn’t want to be that close to Arthur,” she let out a sob. The lady reached out towards the art dealer and took his large left hand in her own delicate pair, squeezing it softly, “I love you. I-I only want you.”

Theo’s expression softened and he felt the tension in his chest loosen as he squeezed MC’s hand in return and reached his other hand out to wipe away her tears, “Hey, hey, het spijt me.” The vampire sighed deeply and crossed over the small carriage to sit next to his fiancée, smiling to himself when she snuggled up against his chest and her shoulders relaxed a little, “I love you too, schatje. Heh, next time I should stay with you and make sure you don’t get too drunk.”

MC snickered shortly, “You’ve got an even worse tolerance than me, though, Theo.”

“Oi,” he retorted, gazing down at his lover and ruffling her hair playfully until she giggled, “You can’t talk about me being a lightweight when you know I’m going to have to take care of you when we get home.”

“Take care of me huh?” MC met Theo’s gaze with an unfamiliar confidence, her cheeks flushing pink again and a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, “Well I am a lucky girl.”

“Behave, hondje.”  A little heat came to Theo’s own cheeks as his mind replayed images of many a sleepless night the couple had spent together before he took MC’s chin between his forefinger and thumb and placed a loving kiss on her lips.

[boliv-jenta]

Joel Miller x f!reader, Arthur Morgan x f!reader

WC:4.4k

Warnings: Language. Smut. Where to start...oral, everyone receiving. Unprotected sex. Double penetration. Rimming. Vaginal fingering. Forced orgasm. Multiple orgasms. Overestimation. Sex toys. Cum eating. Slight breeding kink. Mentions of a lactation kink. Pussy slapping. Rough sex. Dirty talk. I cannot read this filth to edit it one more time so please forgive any mistakes.

Tenth Time's a Charm

Joel woke up earlier than you, his bladder told him it was about time he dragged himself out of bed. He opened his eyes with intention of getting up, taking a piss, clearing the air with Arthur then spend the rest of the day in bed with you. There was no more word on the supposed Fireflies, he could afford to wait one more day for more intel. He could allow himself the luxury of your company. Not just the luxury of time spent with you but the vulnerability. He could afford to take the chance and see wherever this goes. He trusted that he could let go around you. You'd seen him let go, just a little. Let go to explore the the itch he had. An itch for something a little different. To push out of the little box he was in. It was something that reoccurred in his life, the need to shake things up now and then. An urge to push the boundaries, to feel that there was more to life than what was in front of him.

The first time he'd given into that urge in a big way was with his wife. They'd been dating for a while. They had big ideas of spending the rest of their lives together. That didn't seem like such a long time to someone who hadn't experienced much time passing. They'd agreed to have sex for the first time while his parents were away for the weekend. Joel had bought her candles and picked out flowers. She'd picked out a dress, she wouldn't let Joel see it but she raved about how pretty it was and how she was going to look beautiful for him. He told her she'd be beautiful in anything, he meant it too, he was so deeply in love with her. She planned to take a trip to Planned Parenthood to get the pill and some condoms. It was all planned out.

Until Joel had had a fight with his dad about his future. Apparently, his dad had took the liberty of planning out his whole future without telling him. In a rage, he drove straight to her house. Desperate to have something that was his, his choice, a moment that belonged to him, he'd made love to her in the back of his car. He'd used been careful, used a condom that he friend had given him. Maybe if he'd have waited, until that weekend, until after the trip to Planned Parenthood for the extra protection, Sarah wouldn't have been one of those 2 in 100 babies.

That was something he turned over in his head when her mom left, on the days when he felt like he failed her, when he had buried her.

He was deep in thought when you awoke. The sun caught in his lashes, it cast a shadow under his pursed lips, highlighting how full they were. He took your breath away.

"Morning, Handsome." Rolling onto your side, you lifted up to kiss him.

It was a sweet, soft brush of the lips. It wasn't intended to excite or entice him. Not like the usual kisses you gave him. There was nothing more to it than a simple kiss. A token of your affection. Something simple that you'd yearned to give him from the first moment he'd made you laugh. When he made you feel at home in a strange place. A incredible gift to give anyone.

"Mornin', Beautiful." He returned the gentle kiss.

Then gave you another. And another. And another. Until they weren't so gentle any more. Until the were charged with desire. You straddling his lap reminded him of why he woke up in the first place. Excusing himself he took care of his business then made his way back to you, only to bump into Arthur leaving his room.

About ten minutes passed with no sign of Joel. Your own need for the bathroom arose. Poking your head out you saw Joel and Arthur sharing a laugh before shaking each other hands, heartily agreeing on something. Not wanting to disturb their moment you gave it another minute before poking your head put again. Only to be met with Joel and Arthur standing outside the door waiting for you.

"Mornin' Darlin'. Bathrooms free." Arthur cheerily informed you.

Suspiciously eyeing them you walked between them to the bathroom. Relieved and refreshed you return to the room you were sharing with Joel to find him and Arthur, naked as they days they were born, waiting for you. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of them. The smirks on their faces told you that was the reaction they were going for.

"Hey, Baby. Arthur and I got to talkin' about our experiences this week. We both agreed that the best part of it was making you cockdumb. Since we'll probably be heading out tomorrow we decided to make the most of the day, by fuckin' you senseless." Joel casually informed you.

"It's not often I get the company of a fine woman, even less often that she's a wanton little whore." Arthur added.

Then two of them stalked towards you, each taking a side, they caged you in.

"We're not going to be gentle with you." Joel whispered in your ear. "Say 'red' and we'll stop." A breathless nod was all you could manage.

"Alright then." Arthur roughly yacked off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing. Your nipples stiffed further in the cool morning air. The sensation of cool air was replaced by warm mouths. Arthur and Joel each took a nipple in their mouths to suck on. For all his talk Joel was surprisingly gentle, his tongue swirling around the bud in his mouth. Arthur, however, sucked to the point of pain. Both lit fuses of arousal trailing to your core.

They worked together to pull off the shorts you had slept in. The motion of pulling them down your legs leaving them both on their knees. Joel's hand smoothed over your hip, continuing it's journey it spread your folds to circle your clit. Arthur's hand trailed up from your ankle. The light touch skimmed up your calf to your thigh. Then it moved between your legs where it stopped being gentle. Arthur plunged two fingers straight inside you, instantly filling you. You shuddered and bent in two at the suddenness of it all. Quaking even further when the maneuvered them against that rough patch inside of you.

"Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. I got you." Arthur other hand roughly grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing as he righted you.

Joel's figures teasingly circled your clit while Arthur's pumped in and out of you vigorously. When you came the two men held you up on shaking legs.

"Come on, Baby." Joel swept you up bridal style. Placing you on the end of the bed, he nudged your shoulder to lay you down. Your legs were dangling off the edge until Arthur pushed your knees up and out spreading you wide for him.

"Fuck. Looks as good as it tasted." He commented before licking your juices off his fingers.

"Sweetest thing I've ever eaten." Joel agreed before climbing on the bed next to you. He was on all fours facing Arthur. Leaning forward, he bent his head to flatten his tongue on your pussy, dragging it through you folds. Humming at the taste.

"Joel!" You mewled.

"I know. We've got you." With that he straddled your chest. Returning his face to your pussy he buried his tongue in your weeping hole. He pulsed it for a few moments, the warm, firm muscle working you open, before pulling it out.

"She needs something bigger than my tongue. I could feel her pussy begging for more. Arthur?"

The sudden intrusion of Arthur's cock had your hips squirming. "Keep still, damn it." Arthur swotted at your pussy thick calloused fingers hitting your clit just right.

Your hips jumped again from the stimulation so he delivered another blow. This time you rose off the bed.

"Joel reign your woman in before I tie her to this fucking bed." His words sent your arousal glistening onto the bedsheets.

"You heard the man. Stay still." Joel's large hands spread on your thighs pinning you down. Arthur slapped your pussy again. The feeling was still too good so you moved involuntarily. A much smaller movement with Joel's hand on you but you moved all the same.

"Sweetheart. You ain't understanding me. We ain't looking to make you feel good. We're lookin' to make this the wettest fuckin' pussy to make us feel good. We want to be able to pound into this cunt hard and fast while it clings onto us for dear life. Sucking us in as we fuck in and out of it. Joel, maybe pinnin' her between our cocks will work." Arthur suggested.

He moved away to gather some cushions from an old, comfy chair in the corner. Moving back to you he propped your hips up high.

"Lemme see." He notched his length at your enterance. "Pefect. Joel?" He pulled out making your groan in disappointment.

"Don't worry. You'll soon be full of us." Joel reassured you as he shuffled back now straddling your face. His long, thick cock presented for you. "Open up."

When your mouth took him in he arched up moaning before dropping in head back down to your pussy. The tip of his tongue stroked your clit firmly, building your pleasure. At this angle his cock was shallow in your mouth, it pressed on your tongue a little making you want to gag slightly. You loved having your mouth so full of him that you had to fight your own self preservation instincts. There was something so kinky about it. The vibration of your moans added to Joel's pleasure as you sucked on him. Humming one of the songs he likes to play for you, he added some extra stimulation to your clit bringing you close to the edge. Arthur's cock sinking back into pushed you over that edge.

"Fuck me. There's two. What did we say Joel? Ten?" Arthur groaned as he began to shallowly thrust into you. Not being able to go too deep as Joel's head was still hoovering there.

"Yep. Let's go for three." Between your last orgasm being fresh in you nerves, their words and their expert handling, orgasm number three ripped through with Joel sucking your clit and Arthur slipping his fat cockhead in and out your slick channel. The scream that came out of you caused you to choke on Joel's cock. He pulled out to let you breathe but you saw the look in his eyes as he did. You filed that one away for later, Joel Miller wanted to choke you with his massive dick.

"You good?" He asked. As soon you nodded his fingers found your glossy clit, rapidly sliding them back and forth. "Good." Arthur fully buried himself in you now. Giving you his cock in short, sharp bursts. It wasn't long before orgasm number four had you clamping down on Arthur.

"Fuck me, Woman! Move." He barked at Joel.

Throwing your ankles on either side of this neck he pulled your legs up flush to his torso, your hips lifted right off the bed. From this angle he hit your g spot with every thrust. It was blinding. Each punch of his cock head push you further down the rabbit hole of euphoric bliss. You still hadn't come down from you last orgasm and here he was forcing another one on you. Your pussy was so wet and pliant for him. It gave for his intrusion, moulded around him, pulled him in deeper. Each stroke of his ridged skin inside of you was heightened. When you came for a fifth time, your whole body seized up, your pussy contracting around him begging for his seed. Arthur barely pulled out in time. The first spurt of his come coated his own hand as he desperately grabbed it to pull out of you. With his firm chest heaving he lowered you before dropping down in the chair in the corner.

"Shit." He fought to get his breathing under control. "Devil fuckin' woman. You're up." He pointed a finger at Joel.

"My pleasure." Joel rolled your limp body onto you chest. Your were so boneless he had no trouble in tucking your knees under you until you were curled into a ball, your ass presented in the air for him. He wanted to bury his now throbbing cock in you but he couldn't resist spreading your cheeks to run his tongue around your tight little hole. You moaned the new sensation. That spot was so close to your pussy yet it had gone untouched.

His thumb replaced his tongue notching at the entrance while he notched his cock at your sodden pussy. He pushed both in in unison. You sobbed at the feeling of being so full of Joel, already close to another orgasm, that all it took to make you come.

You desperately grasped at the sheets beneath you. "Oh god, oh god Joel. I can't. I can't anymore."

"Sure you can, Sweet Girl. You're over halfway there. You come so easily for us too. I want another one on my cock. You feel so fuckin' good." He groaned as he bottomed out. "Arthur I feel like she could you a distraction. How about you let her clean off your cock and get you ready for round two?"

Arthur was on the bed and gripping your head in a flash. He had to hold your head up by your hair since you were too weak to do it. He prized you lips open with his thumb to feed in his soft cock. "Come on, Darlin', suck it clean. Can you taste yourself? A man wouldn't starve with a pussy like that around. I'd eat that sweet cunt for every meal."

With each word and each slow roll of Joel's hips, a fresh flare of arousal recharged you. Arthur began to swell in your mouth as pride swelled in your chest. These two gorgeous men getting so hard for you was an ego boost. The thought and Joel's fingers meeting your clit found orgasm number seven. Both men grunted at your body's reaction, both of them were drawn in deeper you you heat. Your blood rushed in you ears. Your muscles were now sore for all the tension build and bursting in your body. Joel felt you go like a dead weight. You were literally saved by the bell, as an alarm sounded. Joel's cock bobbed inside you as he tensed.

"Relax. It's just the radio. The patrol has ridden within radio distance. Make her come again before I get back." Arthur had already slipped out of you. The bed shifted as he left, the momentum allowed Joel to role you on your back.

As the door clicked shut behind Arthur Joel climbed on top of you, slotting his hips between your legs. "Your heard him. What do you need to give me another one?" Joel softened towards you with Arthur out of the room.

"Just you." After being ravaged by so many orgasms, you had no energy left to pretend you weren't head over heels in love with the man sinking into your wet heat.

"You got me, Darlin'. Always." He muttered against your shoulder.

Nothing but your moans and gasps filled the room as Joel slowly made love to you. Caressing your body, placing kisses to your skin as he thrust in and out letting you feel every inch of him.

Not a word was spoken until you crept closer to another climax then you couldn't stop them tumbling from your lips. "I wish you could come inside me Joel I want to feel you. I want you to pump me full of your come. I want it to drip out of me."

As number eight washed over you Joel was just quick enough to pull out and slide his cock between you ass cheeks. Pulsing there as he pumped an incredible amount of cum over your puckered hole. He'd been so fucking temped to stay in your warm pussy. To coat your walls and keep thrusting for as long as he could to make sure his seed took root deep in you. It made his cock start to come to life all over again. You felt him twitching, striving to grow again. The two of you stared into each other's eyes both knowing their was a conversation to be had there. Arthur saved you from having to broach it. "I'm in interrupting something?"

"Number eight." Joel swallowed. His voice was even more deep than usual.

"What a good little whore. We have big plans for number ten but I'm getting impatient." Opening a chest next to the bed, he pulled out a massage gun. "This should speed things up."

Joel had barely moved before Arthur held the gadget to your clit. Within seconds your pussy gushed out more juices. Joel's mouth watered at slight. Your pussy literally weeping as you writhed on the bed. You much neglected tits arching to the ceiling. He practically fell on them in his rush to suck on them. For a brief second he imaged them full with milk. He thought about tasting the forbidden fruit as he sucked on your full breasts. The thought made him feel ashamed and so fucking hard.

"Arthur. I can't. Please. It's too much." Tears streaked your face now.

Arthur thumbed them away. "Oh, Baby Girl. All you have to say is 'red' and we'll stop. We'll all have dinner and shoot the shit. If you do say it though you'll miss out on Joel and I stuffing both our cocks into that flooded pussy."

Joel raised his head to look into your eyes. His were beyond blown with lust. He studied your face as the tip of his tongue flicked at your nipple.

"Oh my god!" You yelled so loud that it echoed around the house. So loud that if such a deity existed he definitely hear you. He might as well listen to your calls of ecstasy since he isn't doing anything else in this forsaken world.

"Nine! Good girl." Arthur stroked your hair as Joel looked at you in awe. "See, you made it after all your whinin'. Let's see how ready you are. We're fucking you either way but it'd be nice for the welcome mat to be out."

Joel moved to your side dotting kisses over your bare flesh as Arthur examined you. "Jesus, Girl. I've seen shallower rivers. Ain't you a sight. Now let's see how much you can take." Arthur two fingers slid easily inside you. So he added another. And another. And another. Joel's cock was fully hard again as he listened to the moans in the room. If he was honest it was Arthur's rough, broken ones that got to him. That was his pussy that the man was enjoying, his pussy taking part of his fist, his pussy still gripping Arthur tight despite letting him in.

"Fuck, this damn thing is cursed. So good it'd make a grown man weep. On your side, Sweetness. Remember, say 'red' if you need to because I ain't stopping for nothin' else. We're going to fuckin' destroy this cunt." He pushing his fingers deeper for emphasis.

Joel guided your body toward him. Gently he lifted one of your tired legs over his hip. He kissed you with all the softness he'd held back all this time. If it wasn't for the 6ft cowboy standing behind you it would be pretty romantic.

Slowly, he sunk into you, giving your abused pussy time to adjust. The overestimation had you trembling. His hand cupped your face, bringing his forehead to yours he whispered. "I've got you."

Arthur cleared his throat behind you causing you both to laugh. "As sweet as that all is I have a throbbing cock with a might need to be buried in something. I'd like it to be this oasis of a pussy. Unless you want it Joel?"

That hit you like a bucket of cold water. They hadn't touched once this whole time. Given how things went last time you'd expect different. "I'm good. I got that out of my system. Thanks."

Before you could ask any questions Arthur nudged at your enterance.

"Well make fucking room then." He told Joel who pulled almost all the way out. He allowed Arthur to press his tip in beside his. Very slowly, they both pushed in. Each edge in inch by inch. Stretching you wide. By the time they were even half way in they were both wreck from the additional stimulation of having another cock rubbing up against theirs, as well as the tightness of your vagina.

You couldn't do a damn thing accept lay there and take it. As if Arthur read you mind he pushed in further. "That's it. Take it. Take it." He held the base of his cock in a death grip so he didn't come inside you.

Joel was similarly affected in front of you. "Arthur! Stay fucking still!"

The air in the room changed with the shift in dynamics. You felt refreshed by it. Suddenly, you had a renewed energy.

"Come on boys. I thought you were going to use me? Pound this sweet little cunt until I couldn't take it anymore?" You taunted. Both of their cocks twitched at your dirty mouth. "I still have one more to give you right?"

Snaking your hand between the heat of you and Joel pressed together, your body jerked as you touched your swollen clit. It was overwhelm you had to take it easy. Little feather light strokes at first until you could touch it properly.

Joel groaned watching you. "You're playing a dangerous game." He warned. You weren't sure if he was imply that they may not pull out in time or that they would snap and fuck you senseless until they had to pull out. Both options excited you.

"Oh, Joel!" You put on your best fuck toy face at him. "Feels so good."

His neck strained with tension, he couldn't help but roll his hips. Arthur grunted in pleasure behind you. "You like that, Cowboy?"

"Yes. Ma'am." He uttered into your neck as his kissed the sweet spot there. His hand game around to palm at your tits, brushing Joel's nipples in the process, earning a shudder.

The two of them stayed still and buried inside you while you slowly coaxed another orgasm out. It was incredible to be so full of them, your pussy, your senses, your mind. In this moment you lived and breathed for them. And they did for you. The tension returned to your core, both men took this as their signal to move. The two of them fucked into you. Hard and fast with no coordination of finesse. Two big, fat blunt cock head ramming at your cervix while their girth stretched your walls. With one last stroke of your clit, you came. Every orgasm had been incredible, some explosive that rocked your whole body in sudden burst of toe curling bliss. Others that lapped gently at you until the waves of pleasure grew higher, cresting before crashing down, pulling you under, dragging you from this world for a moment before letting you breach the surface again, panting for air. All of them left you floating on a high. This one came with a different type of high attached, the pride of bring Joel Miller and Arthur Morgan to their knees.

With a chorus of groans and curses they both managed to pull out of the grip of your clenched pussy. Kneeling at your feet the two men raced to completion. You wished it could have been a photo finish so you could have something to preserve the moment. Two broad, well built men. Powerhouses of muscle. All their strength focus on working their gorgeous cocks. If you had any strength left, you would have crawled down the bed to lap at their cockheads rhythmically appearing from between their huge fists. All you could do was watch and listen to their guttural moans. Arthur came first, with explosive power you were quickly growing used to. Droplets of his come rained on your body from your neck to your throughly used pussy. After growling a whole lot of well know expletives, along with a few homespun ones. He dropped forward on to all fours, licking his come off your breasts before collapsing down onto them. Joel came with a shout of your name. Shoving Arthur's leg out of the way he came all over your pussy. Wave after wave of his thick come mingled with your own release.

You fluttered around nothing as the thought of him pumping copious amounts of his come into you. Being so full of him it dribbles out around his softening girth still inside of you. It was a dirty little fantasy of yours. Even with your infertility issues letting him come inside you would be a big risk. A risk that gave you such a twisted thrill.

With Arthur still near passed out on your chest, Joel dropped down next to you. Pausing before he fully reclined to kiss you.

When you awoke a few hours later you were in the same position, except you'd been cleaned up. A blanket had been drapped over you and tucked neatly around you. The smell of Arthur's cooking filled that air, wafting through the crack in the door. Shifting to get out of bed you became aware of how sore you were. As your set your feet on the ground standing with a grimace, Joel opened the door wide.

"Come on." He took your hand. Guiding you to the bathroom, he lifted you to sit on the counter while he ran you a bath. Once the water was warm enough he helped you in. Taking a washcloth he delicately washed every part of you. Strangely, it felt more intimate than most of the day. You felt cared for, loved even.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @misspearly1

If someone had told you that the big, angry, hulk of a man you saw chewing out newbies when you first arrived in Jackson, would one day be bathing you, you would have laughed in their faces. Then again Joel Miller was full of surprises, and as it turned out so were you.

More here

[zestyaahbutler]

hi!! I enjoy your works so so much, and your art is absolutely beautiful. just wondering— what is the relationship between amulya and walter? Cause it seems like there’s a lot more than just simple friendship there 👁️👁️

My first ask aaaaa! <3 Thank you so much for your kind words. I was so absolutely delighted to wake up to this in my inbox. It really does make me sooo joyful that people love Amulya and are curious about her. I'll post some Amulya doodles soon hopefully

Regarding your question, Amulya and Walter have more than a simple friendship. He is the one who assisted her in day-to-day life and she relied on him both for daily tasks and emotionally. She chatted with other workers in the organization as she was rather lonely. She couldn’t go out on her own for her safety and most people she knew were through Arthur’s connections. She relied on employees to socialize with. Being so lonely made her naturally curious about all the people at the estate. 

TW: mentions of suicide, questionable dynamics, mental illness, average Hellsing lore

Once Walter was put in charge of her, she took it upon herself to get to know him. Amulya made it a point to break down the professional mask and learn about him as a person. Walter was hesitant to let her be able to know more about him but he eventually folded. She would bother him if he was working and as it could’ve hindered his productivity, he never reported it to Arthur.  

Walter is a sarcastic son of a bitch and she challenged that fairly often. Amulya pushed him to be more playful with her. 

I do want to say that the feelings were on Walter’s side. He didn’t realize them till she did acknowledge what happened to him in 1944. I don’t think he ever would be used to someone knowing he was put in a dangerous position and even comfort. He did keep those feelings away out of respect for her and Arthur. 

Walter was the person she opened up to about feeling alone, disliked, and damaged. In a selfish way, he would’ve felt like he was the only one able to comfort her. Yeah he acted as if he was keeping his distance but there was always the want of having her acknowledge him in the same way as he saw her. It was one of the reasons why he was so open about his thoughts events, people, and practices of the organization with her. There was always that deep respect and admiration that went beyond serving her. 

When she did have her first suicide attempt, Walter found her before she could go through it. I wouldn’t want to go too into it as I’d like to write a short story about it.

Along with the bad, he was there for good moments. They both gardened together which was her main hobby. It was the main way she was able to get out of the stuffy mansion and outside. Amulya would see it as a place she can relax and take her mind off of things. Walter may have seen it as ‘their’ place. She also got him to slack off every now and again to have tea with her or an emergency shopping trip. 

Amulya was also much more doting with him from being so close. It wasn’t odd for her to hug him. Mainly situations if she was emotional or if she comforting him. I would say once there would be an instance where she wanted to try the European greeting of kissing on the cheek but he informed her afterwards of the implications and it is not a British greeting. 

There was gossip among maids/butlers and other workers about the details of their relationship but it was just rumors. 

She was entirely vulnerable with him which made their relationship pretty intimate. When she did come onto him, it was selfish but also out of desperation. 

She would feel betrayed by Arthur for almost lying to her after tying the knot and having Integra. There would be the passing thought of perhaps he was just using her for an heir (he wasn’t and she knows but it still occurred to her). With Walter, she was looking for comfort, affection, and feeling safe. Her actions are horrible and puts him in a bad position. Nothing that scandalous happened. He stopped her for her sake and also his own. 

Walter greatly helped Amulya in taking care of Integra. Amulya would even make a joke about him being Intergra’s second dad or mom. She was always grateful for him holding her while she sits by because she felt too sick to do so. Or even just staying up with her at night if Integra was keeping her up. It would be a huge deal when Amulya was more comfortable spending time with Integra alone and even sleeping with her in bed. She also made Walter promise her that she wouldn’t be involved with anything dangerous in the organization. Buuut that promise was later broken as seen in the events of the series. 

Their relationship is more than just a simple friendship. But there were more implications and imagination on Walter’s side for the early parts. He’s a selfish character but Amulya is too. But she is tragic in her own way so I can see people sympathizing with her. As sad as she is, she isn’t without numerous flaws. 

Thank you for the question! I hope this entertains u, anon. I was thrilled to get to talk about her. I hope to get more so if anyone has anything they wanna know or see, let me know. Inbox is always open and no question is really too uncomfortable.  I do make tons of jokes about their dynamic. I am a little bit of a simp for the ship cause I like making Walter suffer. Maybe don’t be a hot old guy and betray a supernatural organization next time.

[dutchvanwinkle]

If you are taking fic requests, I’d like to ask for something. I’d love to see a fic where Dutch is swooning over the reader, but Arthur also has feelings for them. Dutch sees Arthur flirting with the reader and takes it upon himself to confess his love and claim what’s his - ideally in a way Arthur knows too

This is so exciting - not only is this my first request, it's also my first ever ask so thank you so much anon! I hope this is similar to what you had in mind.

I've also put it over on ao3.

The Duality of Man - Dutch x Reader

Summary: Dutch has feelings for you but learns that Arthur does too. He isn't happy about it.

Word count: 5,349

Content warnings: Jealousy, Possessive Behavior

Dutch van der Linde loved women. He thought them to be wonderful additions to life and contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t because of their beautiful figures that varied like flavours of alcohol, all having some significant underlying note to their taste but none of which he’d be unhappy to drink – it was more than that. Women were smarter and more capable than they were given credit for; every woman in his life confirmed this to be true. They got on with their jobs with fewer complaints than the men he knew, they were more attentive and had a larger span of emotional range that usually rendered them much more stimulating to talk to. Okay, he did also like how wonderful they were when they lay back and opened their legs. But no, it wasn’t just that. 

With so many divine flavours of women to taste, how could he be expected to stick to one? When he settled in with a girl he liked, he’d catch wind of a new woman as though her scent wafted through the air and he was drawn to it, pure intrigue and curiosity causing his mind to wander.  

But then he met you. 

You weren’t just a spirit to fill a shot glass, no. You were a whole cocktail, different elements perfectly blended to create something more. Presented for him and garnished with your entrancing features that only hinted at what was inside. 

From the moment he set eyes on you, he wanted to drink you right up. 

He felt the same about horses. Not that he’d ever compare a woman to a horse to her face, but it was true. He admired the different qualities of horse breeds and struggled to find one that embodied all his favourite traits. Then he found The Count, a horse that had everything he could ever want in a steed. He knew from the moment he came across the unruly, loyal Arabian that he was his horse. Likewise, you were his woman. You just... didn’t know that yet. 

Dutch’s favourite thing about you? When you touched him. 

No, not like that. It didn’t turn him on or make his breath hitch, instead, it made his chest warm-up and his mouth produce too much saliva. Dutch liked physical contact, liked embracing those he loved and clapping a hand to their back. You did too, but not in the same way. 

You showed your affection quietly, gentle fingertips brushing against his shoulder as you passed him in the morning or getting his attention when you had a question by placing your hand oh so delicately on his arm. One time you even placed your whole palm on his back when you reached across him to grab a beer bottle from the table he sat at and he nearly fell off his chair. It was only when Dutch had his sleeves rolled up one day that your fingertips grazed his forearm, and he felt how soft your skin was for the first time. He needed to know if the rest of your skin was that soft. He needed to know. Needed needed needed.  

You were the best of both, no, every world. 

He didn’t even bother to tell anyone about his affections, they’d only scoff and be less than surprised that he wanted you. It was almost expected of him at this point when a new woman entered the gang, but this time it was different. You were different. It wasn’t just that you were all shiny and new and available for him to watch when his eyes drifted up from his book, but that didn’t stop you from thinking that. 

No, you’d been made aware early on that Dutch was a huge flirt and tried it on with practically every woman that joined his gang and you had no interest in flings. While you were obviously attracted to him, you wanted someone that reserved all their affection for you and you alone. Besides, there was many a rugged cowboy to consider, and you certainly didn’t want to commit to the first one that looked your way.  

He thought about you often, how pretty you’d look panting beneath him as he drilled into you, tasting all the parts of your body that he knew would end up even sweeter than they looked. 

Fuck, now he was hard. He applied pressure to his cock, chastising himself for being such a pervert in the middle of the afternoon. You weren’t even in his eye line and yet here you were, overtaking all his thoughts. 

He hadn’t seen you for some time, come to think of it. You’d been floating around throughout the morning, getting your chores done early and making time to chat to the various members of camp. That was one more thing, it wasn’t just Dutch that was besotted with you. The high approval of his family meant a lot to him, and with your arrival came a fresh alteration in the dynamic that was welcomed by all. You were kind to the girls and found common ground with each of them, and while you had turned their heads when you walked in, the boys actually respected you too. Even the solid Miss Grimshaw had sung your praises a few nights previous, and she barely ever did that. 

However, Dutch knew where your favourite spot was. After only two weeks of you being in his life did he notice that your delightful presence was nowhere to be found. He’d worried that maybe you hadn’t been enjoying your time in his gang as much as it seemed like you had, worried that you regretted joining up and it stirred a sense of concern deep in his gut. You were a keeper, he knew that. And he intended to keep you. He wandered around camp, trying to make it look like he wasn’t actively looking for you. 

He huffed, hands on his hips when he couldn’t find you anywhere. Your horse was still hitched up, and he was certain you hadn’t gone out with someone else and John was the one on guard duty, so you weren’t doing that either. But that was when he saw the tip of a boot, poking out from one of the big rocks right on the edge of camp.  

Dutch made his way towards it, breathing a small sigh of relief when the rest of you came into view, lay on your side while you read a book. You were so engrossed in it that you hadn’t noticed him standing there, and he cleared his throat to not risk startling you. 

“Oh,” you looked up from your page and shifted onto your elbow. “Hi Dutch.” 

“Hello miss,” he started, swallowing down the tingles he got when you looked at him all doe-eyed and caught off-guard.  

“Sorry,” you started, wondering if you’d missed the memo about lazing around or if you’d forgotten something on your to-do list for the day. You glanced down at your book and back to him. “Is this... okay?” 

“Yes!” he answered, a little too enthusiastically at the realisation that you thought he was chastising you for relaxing and was quick to reel himself in. “Of course, I was only checking you were okay.” 

You smiled a little, it was very attentive of him to be so concerned about a new gang member and whether or not they were settling in well. And you were, in fact, you’d loved your time as part of his family so far and it had already begun to feel like home. “I’m just perfect,” you answered happily. 

Just perfect. If that wasn’t music to Dutch’s ears.  

“I like a bit of peace now and again, that’s all,” you looked out over the view of the rolling hills below, “this is a nice spot for it.” 

“It is,” Dutch agreed, taking a step backwards to relieve you of the conversation since he understood more than most the precious value of alone time. “I will leave you to it,” he nodded respectfully and you were quick to sit up and correct yourself. 

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that. You’re,” you gestured beside yourself, “more than welcome to keep me company, if you’d like.” 

Dutch was flattered, you’d found your own hiding place in camp and you wanted him to join you. He wasn’t sure if you were just being polite, he was the boss after all, but decided to take you up on your offer at least for a short while. He used the opportunity to smoke the dormant cigar laying in his pocket while you continued to read, and he’d sat so that he wasn’t too in your space but he was close enough to read what was on the pages in front of you. You’d noticed him glancing over, and struck up a conversation with him about your book, which soon turned into his current reading fancy. He was overjoyed, you were so easy to talk to and even easier to sit in silence with. There were few people comfortable enough in themselves to do that, especially with someone like Dutch, but there you were. 

And it continued that way, on the odd occasion you were missing he’d come to sit with you and chat or not chat. It was a refreshing change to Dutch’s routine. 

So, he decided to come and visit you again to see how you were keeping, see what you were reading and if you wanted to borrow any of his books but... 

Arthur. 

He almost didn’t register him at first, you were lay as you always were and Arthur was beside you but sat up against the rock so it was only when Dutch walked round did his prized worker come into view. And he was sat in Dutch’s spot. Arthur sketching, you reading, the pair of you enjoying the quiet together and looking like the perfect picture of peace. He didn’t know what to do, wanted to walk away and pretend he hadn’t seen anything but you’d spotted him in your peripheral, tilting your head up to greet him. 

“Afternoon Dutch,” you smiled and Dutch cleared his throat, words not yet fully formed and tipped his head in response. 

Arthur paused his sketching; you didn’t know what the subject matter was since he wouldn’t show you until he was finished, but Dutch could see it. He was sketching you. He’d even started a second sketch on the next page, of just your hands as they rested over the pages of your book. 

Dutch nearly kicked him. 

“Hi there, Dutch,” Arthur said casually, only briefly sparing the man a glance. 

“Arthur,” Dutch settled into his usual brash self, not wanting to seem inconspicuous. “How are you, my boy?” 

“Just fine, Dutch. There somethin’ you need?” 

Yes, for you to leave my woman alone. “No not at all, I’m just out enjoying the day.” 

You almost felt bad, Dutch had made somewhat of a habit of coming to chat with you during your downtime, but you couldn’t resist Arthur’s awkward ask of whether he could join you or not. He wasn’t the most talkative of people with all the big personalities about camp, and you certainly didn’t want to turn down the offer of spending some time with him. 

“Would you like to sit, Dutch?” you offered, eyes gentle and inviting. 

“Oh no,” he returned your smile, “I was just out for a stroll. You two enjoy the day.” 

With that, he turned on his heels and continued his walk. Your guilt dissolved; he was sure to have several other ears available to listen to him.  

Dutch tried to be rational, knowing that it wasn’t a big deal you were sitting with Arthur and of course he wanted you to generate a rapport with everyone, you were your own woman after all. But it was Arthur that was his concern. He’d known the man long enough to know when he was sweet on someone, quiet and lingering with his affections and very slowly edging his way into their life. It often resulted in the recipient of said affections being caught by surprise, not having the slightest of inklings that Arthur wanted more. 

Still, there was time yet and Dutch began to think of ways to nudge your feelings towards him, faster than he’d usually like. 

But then after almost another week, where he’d noticed you and Arthur spending more time together than he’d prefer, you announced that you were going hunting. 

You usually fished, something you could do nearby to camp and while Dutch wasn’t overly fond of hunting, he saw it as an opportunity to spend time with you and informed you that you best take someone out with you if you were going exploring. 

So you nodded, glancing around the campfire that burned in the late morning and weighing up your options. Arthur had mentioned not long ago that he was in the mood to go hunting and you didn’t think much further on it when you pressed a hand to his shoulder, asking “you wanna come?” 

And Arthur nodded, promptly rising from his seat and following you to the horses. 

Dutch watched on in disbelief, positively infuriated that you’d chosen Arthur. Not only that, you’d brushed your fingertips over his shoulders when you invited him after looking Dutch dead in the eye like you were considering who to take. Now you were out of his sight, with non-other than his fresh new rival. 

Oh no, he thought. This won’t do, not one bit.  

He needed to come up with a plan. 

You liked Arthur; he was so easy to get on with. When you’d met him, you weren’t entirely sure what to make of him and thought he didn’t like you much with his quietness and stoic expression, but you realised he was just cautious around new people. You learned he was a bit of a hard-ass, but after spending more time with him you realised he was a softie deep down, and you loved the duality of man displayed by him. You’d opted for getting to know him better, because what harm could that cause, and truthfully Dutch had been a little more preoccupied than usual anyway.  

And Dutch had been preoccupied, preoccupied with you and what he could do to seal the deal.  

He knew he was a better fit for you. Just knew it. Of course, he wanted Arthur to be happy but he also wanted you to be happy. He could do that - he could provide you with happiness that Arthur couldn’t. The two of you were a perfect match.  

However, you still hadn’t realised it. But it’s okay, Dutch was happy to assist you in finding the revelation. 

He’d been reading on a chair outside his tent when you’d distracted him, laughing along with Javier as the two of you had a smoke break on the table in the middle of camp. He watched how attentive you were, how you leaned in to listen to what Javier said, eyes shining when you laughed and your face creased in such a natural, carefree way. You’d casually bring the smoke up to your lips, even the way you inhaled it was done with care, and managed to make the cloud of smoke billow perfectly as it left your lips. He was in raptures with you, making the ordinary look extraordinary. 

“Pretty thing, ain’t she?” Arthur said, gazing at you with soft eyes and Dutch wanted to break his nose. He hadn’t even realised the man had come to stand beside him. 

“Indeed,” was all he replied, taking his gaze back to his book and not even daring to look at Arthur. 

“Something on your mind?” he asked casually, leaning a hand on the back of Dutch’s chair. 

“No Arthur.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes Arthur.” 

“You can tell me –” 

“Arthur.”  

“What’s got you so riled up?” 

You, you insolent prick. “Nothing Arthur.” 

“If you say so,” Arthur drawled with a huff, knowing better than anyone when it was wise to leave Dutch to his own devices. He proceeded to walk past you, nodding in your direction and Dutch watched your eyes follow his passing form for a second too long. 

Fucking Arthur, of all people. There was no way he could appreciate such a fine woman the way Dutch could. He didn’t know you like Dutch did. Fine, Dutch didn’t know you all too well but he’d observed you enough. He’d heard you hum to yourself while you did chores when you thought nobody could hear, saw you sneaking extra treats to the horses after they’d been out on jobs, knew all the different shades that made up the colour of your eyes and what the best time of day was to make them sparkle.  

It wasn’t fair. It was Dutch that found you, he was the one that brought you into the gang after being impressed at your cool tone when you talked yourself out of a hairy situation so well that he didn’t have to step in to assist you as he’d initially planned. Dutch found you. And he firmly believed in ‘finders keepers’. 

Arthur would be the one weeping if he didn’t back off.  

And then when you were drunk, you were cuddly. It was endearing when it was the girls that you’d instantly jelled with, but when it was Arthur’s shoulder that you lay your head on... Nope. He’d seen how sweet you were with it, nestling into anyone that you felt comfortable enough with, and it hadn’t included Dutch. Yes, he wanted to... cuddle you. He wasn’t fantasizing about fucking you now, he was fantasizing about you curling up next to him and fitting your body to his like a jigsaw piece. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and watch your chest as it rose with your breaths and listen to the little noise you made when you stretched before you relaxed back into him. Him, not Arthur goddamn Morgan. 

That was when he realised that his feelings for you were different. Of course, he wanted to explore every part of your body and the idea of you being naked before him definitely made him feel things, but that wasn’t his main desire. No, he wanted to hear your thoughts in the middle of the night, wanted to share a coffee with you in the morning, and hold you close by the campfire in the evening. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t a fun game anymore. Not only was Arthur pawing at what was his, but you were also returning his affections. Sure, you weren’t exactly kissing him and sitting in his lap, but you’d laugh at his jokes and place a hand on his forearm and damnit you might as well have fucked the man right outside his tent as far as Dutch was concerned. He had half a mind to go into Arthur’s lodgings and break all his things. 

He’d start with that stupid journal, the one that you seemed to find so damn interesting. 

Dutch couldn’t draw, but he could... Shit, what could Dutch do? He’d never had to try this hard, usually pretty words and lingering gazes would be enough. Not for you though, you needed more than that. 

He started to panic. 

Actually... He could dance. Rather well. 

With time running out, he had no choice but to make a plan and stick to it. His mind instantly began to spin. 

❀

The gang was more than happy when Dutch announced they were having a party to celebrate. No big scores were coming up, so he had to use the reason that he was proud of them all for the work they were doing. None of them questioned it, all more than happy to have an excuse to get drunk and slack off the following day while they worked through their hangovers. 

It was going great, and Dutch made a note to do it more often since it was a good morale booster. Spirits were high, and everyone was having a good time as they told stories, played poker, and relaxed around the campfire with their drinks in hand. It was the first official party held in camp since you arrived, and it wasn’t lost on Dutch that you’d made a little more effort in your attire. To him, you always looked breathtaking but tonight he struggled to pull his eyes away from the way your skirt complimented your figure and your shirt complimented your eyes.  

It’d been a couple of hours since the celebrations began, and Dutch decided it was time. The music was on, the gang was preoccupied for the most part and you were sat all alone, almost-finished drink in hand as you watched your friends fondly.  

Dutch stood, clearing his voice and smoothing down the hairs in his moustache before making his way over to you. He actually felt nervous, glancing to the ground and swallowing before making the final few steps. 

When he looked back up, Arthur was by you, a hand held out as he nodded towards the gramophone Dutch had turned on a few moments previous. 

No. 

“What?” Arthur looked at Dutch and you turned too, and he had to glance behind himself to check what you were both looking at.  

“What?” Dutch parroted, thoroughly confused. 

“'No’ what?” Arthur asked. 

Fuck. He’d said it out loud. 

You blinked between the two men, wondering if you’d missed something or if you were drunker than you thought you were. But they both looked equally as confused as you. 

“I’m just saying, Arthur,” Dutch started, his relaxed tone tainted with a slightly menacing one, “maybe... well, maybe she doesn’t want to dance with you.” 

Arthur narrowed his brow, observing your expression to see if he’d perhaps made you uncomfortable. He found you looking neutral for the most part, if anything a little bewildered. “Sorry darlin’,” he started and placed his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, just in case you were hiding it well, “I was just -” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Dutch interrupted. He’d seen red, Arthur calling you darlin’ and touching your shoulder while you looked up at him from your seat was too much for him to handle. 

“She... She isn’t yours, Arthur,” he spat. 

Arthur looked between you and Dutch, a bemused look on his face. It’s like the little shit was trying to get under Dutch’s skin. “She ain’t yours either.” 

“Yes she is.” 

Oh, he’d really put his foot in it now. 

Dutch pulled back, attempting to swallow the words but it was too late. Other people had started listening in but you, bless you, still just looked confused. He tried to calculate the best move in this situation, but damnit he was angry and all he wanted to do was dance with you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and smell the flowery scent of your hair while you smiled that wonderful smile of yours. 

Arthur seemed to finally understand, but just frowned and took a step toward Dutch. 

So that’s how it was going to be. 

“Is that so?” Arthur said calmly. 

“Yes,” Dutch snarled, squaring up to the man. 

It was then that he took a glance in your direction. 

You weren’t looking at Arthur. You were looking at Dutch, as though you’d never really seen him before and shit... your eyes looked sad. This wasn’t going at all to plan, the situation spiralling out of control as Dutch lost his temper but all he knew was that he didn’t like the look on your face. Especially when it was him causing it. 

He took a step back from Arthur and kept his gaze locked on yours. 

“No, I -” he faltered, changing his answer to Arthur’s question and expecting you to say something but you just sat there silently. “I’m... I’m acting like a fool.” 

Your expression didn’t change and Dutch looked back at Arthur who raised an eyebrow in agreement. Dutch huffed quietly and turned away, walking to the furthest point away from the stupid mess he’d caused. He cursed himself all the while, unable to get the image of you looking at him like that out of his mind. 

He wasn’t a monster, truly he wasn’t, you weren’t property or something to be owned, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Arthur’s hands roaming your body. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. It was so rare for Dutch to feel so strongly so soon and he knew, he just knew that the two of you would have something special. 

Or at least you would’ve, if Dutch hadn’t gone and ruined something before it even began. 

You stood from your seat, quietly excusing yourself to follow Dutch’s path for... well, you weren’t quite sure what. Answers? Clarity? An apology? 

No, you weren’t mad at him per se. Sure, it was a bit much but if anything, it was just unexpected – sure the two of you had spoken a few times but he’d never done much more than a bit of light flirting. And it was light. So light that you weren’t sure if it was flirting at all, would easily believe it was polite conversation if he told you so. He was the leader of a gang of outlaws, for goodness’ sake. If he wanted you, surely he’d just stride right up to you and tell you so.  

But instead, there he was, sitting on the rock that landmarked your favourite getaway spot as he smoked a plain old cigarette. 

“Dutch?” 

Even though he was already still he visibly froze, and you walked round to face him and found his guilty expression looking back at you. You weren’t sure what to say, so instead, you sat next to him, hoping he’d find his words in the silence. 

It took him a while, but eventually, he cleared his throat. 

“I didn’t intend for that to happen.” 

It wasn’t an apology or an explanation, in fact, it only made you more puzzled. “What did you intend to happen?” you asked softly. 

Dutch sighed, taking a drag from his cigarette and leaning back on his hands. “I... suppose I wanted to get to know you.” At your unfulfilled silence, he continued. “I had hopes of dancing with you this evening, miss.” 

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like it one bit. This wasn’t his usual way of doing things, not only had he fumbled his plan he’d made things worse, and now here he was just telling you as plain as day what his truth was with no hint from you about your thoughts on it all. 

It clicked for you then. Dutch actually did like you. He’d made this plan, and Arthur got in the way. Like you imagined he had on a few occasions prior to this night. His possessiveness should’ve been a red flag, but it wasn’t. You laughed softly. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Dutch grumbled but he was stern with it. Talk about kicking a man while he was down. 

“I’m not laughing at you,” you clarified, unable to squash your amusement. “I think it’s sweet.” 

Dutch finally looked at you, brow hard and defensive as you continued to look out over the view with nothing but a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. “You think what is sweet?” 

“You,” you met his gaze. “Being all jealous.” 

He straightened up, denial taking over his features. “I am not jealous.” 

You somehow frowned and smiled at the same time, not buying it for one second and if anything, you found it a little endearing that he’d still try to deny it after declaring you his. “Okay, you’re not jealous,” you shrugged. “So why were you so mad with Arthur?” 

Well now what was he supposed to say? Yes, you’re right. You can’t touch Arthur and he can’t touch you because he’s not me and you’re you and I want to be the only person that gets to touch you. 

“It doesn’t matter now.” 

“How come?” 

“You ask a lot of questions.” 

“Can I ask one more?” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the rock and faced him, holding out a hand. If he wasn’t going to play your game then you’d just change the rules. “Dance with me.” 

Dutch looked at your hand, to your face, and back to your hand again. What was this? After his display here you were, asking – no, demanding he dance with you? His uncertainty wavered when you smiled, the warmth of a thousand suns radiating from your face and easing his self-pitying heart. Since he hadn’t been able to say the right thing once that night, he opted for silence. He slipped his hand into yours and stood, waiting as though this outcome had been so unexpected, he couldn’t quite fathom it. 

Neither could you. Truthfully, the day you’d met him was like something out of a book. You had been somewhat blown away by him, he was so handsome and commanding and charming but you’d thought him a little too good to be true. But here he was, pining over you and wanting you all for himself despite never even kissing you.  

You gently pulled his hand towards you and held it up, stepping towards him and sliding your hand onto his shoulder. The music was far away, but you could still hear it well enough. He watched his other hand as it moved towards you, resting on your waist and you didn’t miss the smile that quirked over his mouth. 

He settled into himself then, meeting your gaze and beginning to lead as the two of you swayed and it felt as easy as breathing, letting him guide your body where he wanted it and move his so fluidly through the air. There was a promise of safety in the confines of his arms, and you couldn’t resist resting your head on his chest. Though his demeanour had calmed, his heart certainly hadn’t; it pounded with such ferocity you were convinced you’d burst an eardrum anytime now. 

The two of you stayed that way for a while, the callous of his palm against yours something you didn’t want to let go of, but you knew it was possible to have too much of a good thing. 

You lifted your head, catching the warm look in his eyes where a slight guardedness still resided. You didn’t want him to feel concern or worry about his behaviour even though he was clearly still thinking about it. You stopped the movement of your feet and he did in turn, then you slid your hand from his and up the path of his arm until it landed on his neck. His throat bobbed with a swallow against your thumb and you leaned in until your lips met his, feeling him soften against you as his lone hand held the other side of your waist. There was a pause for a moment and you moved away, one kiss was enough for now even though you wanted to experience more of the taste that came from his surprisingly soft lips. 

You never thought you’d see a bashful look on Dutch van der Linde’s face, but there it was. You smiled at him, deciding that no more words were necessary and released contact with his body before moving past him and walking towards your lodgings, giving a quick look back to find him watching you go with an awestruck smile on his face. 

Dutch practically skipped to his tent that night. 

And the following morning when you were standing by the campfire and Arthur came to grab a coffee, Dutch made a point of running his hand along your lower back as he walked past you and holding your gaze as you watched him. When you looked back to the fire, his gaze shifted to Arthur, giving him a look that said mine, don’t touch. 

[milkb0nny]

OMG OMG YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN *SQUEALS*

Hi, love your work!!! It's so good!!!!

Could you maybe do hcs on how Cain Lutrein and Arthur Bryan would behave like when they like someone and how they'd deal with their feelings.

If you don't write those character, it's totally fine I understand!

Sending lots of hugs your way!!! Have a great day/night!!!

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌸｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌙｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌸｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌙｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

𝑪𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑳𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒏/𝑮𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝑩𝒓𝒚𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒏: 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒆𝒅 - 𝑪𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌸｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌙｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌸｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌙｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

⚜️ 𝑪𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑳𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒏/𝑮𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒏

🌸 Falling in love isn't easy with him. Surely he's got an eye for beautiful things but actually gaining interest is a hard thing to achieve with him. The fact you reached his heart is the biggest compliment to begin with.

🌸 He doesn't realize his interest in you is something different than with other things. You in particular are more soothing and elegant to him, though he needs some time to actually make sure he's in love.

🌸 He's quite decent about being in love. Cain prevents talking about personal things; when conversations about feelings occur, he vanishes in the background and adores his wholesome thoughts with you. He won't tell you, but this guy is mad in love and loves daydreaming.

🌸 While training he spaces away because the imagination of you watching him being powerful arouses him. Either he totally loses himself in his dreams, or he uses you as a motivation to gain stronger. And more beautiful.

🌸 Cain takes care about his appearance. His hair is flawless and his golden eyes pierce right through you. When this man came to the conclusion he wants you, he began to step up his hygiene. It was totally fine from the beginning, but he'll begin to buy masks, creams and hair care products, just to look more appealing. He wants you to like him and being handsome is the first step he takes.

🌸 If he's confident enough, he'll invite you to a spa evening. Just a small date where both of you try out different products, watch movies meanwhile and talk about a lot about stuff. Maybe you'd expect him to throw big dates and make expensive gifts... But it's not the case. He prefers chill, relaxing and more deepening dates, where he can get closer to your heart.

🌸 You won't notice it at first, but when his eyes meet yours, a slight red tint will cover his cheeks. Cain usually only blushes when someone embarrasses him, so it's weird to see him blushing randomly. After some time, his blush will increase, because his feelings towards you only keep growing.

🌸 With that being mentioned, he's a very passionate lover. Once he has his fierce eyes on you, he can't stop wanting you. He craves for your attention, wants you safe and secure and he commits to being your best friend, while dating you. He's throughout serious about his love but he can also cheer you up when you need some fun. Cain isn't as one sided as one might assume, no, in fact, he's a pleasant company to have.

🌸 Small gestures like opening the doors for you, carrying your backpack with him or giving you pats on the shoulder show his affection. When you insist on taking your stuff by yourself, he just shakes it off and gently takes your stuff away. "Let me carry it. It makes me fulfilled walking besides you and having your personal items close to me... You know, they smell like you."

🌸 He makes sure you catch on his little flirts, pecks and compliments. He won't tell you directly he loves you at first, but he'll let you know. He's a gentle human with a sense of pride, humor and love. Though, he third aspect he only owns for you.

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⚜️ 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝑩𝒓𝒚𝒂𝒏

🌸 As we all know, Arthur is a living chaos with a lot of sides and views. When it comes to love, he's complex and hard to understand. He prefers to keep his emotions to himself, unlike Cain. Maybe that's because he feels ashamed of himself, afraid of rejection or he doesn't really understand what the rollercoaster in his mind means. It's guaranteed you won't find out, until you actively gain his trust.

🌸 Arthur is quite afraid of getting rejected. Loving makes him so vulnerable. He's known to be a loud, intelligent and proud person, loving only makes him a potential candidate for getting hurt. Usually he's not afraid of pain, even relationships like friendships don't hurt him too badly... But getting rejected by someone he cares about? Man, he's not gonna deal well with that.

🌸 This results in him being a little distant towards you. He avoids your looks, talks over you sometimes, increases the distance between the two of you while walking next to each other and he acts "cool". Of course, this doesn't sit right with you. Why is he such a bitch about everything...? He used to be pretty fun and relaxed.

🌸 So one day you found out he adores you by a simple question from Jisuk. He meant to simply mock Arthur, but he even embarrassed him. "Jo, I wanted to ask you if you wanna go to a double date with y/n and someone else?" You just overheard it, but the sudden change in his skin color tells you more than words ever could: his ears turn red and his face flushes. It makes him adorable, yet a little more attractive. He does have a weakness and it's you.

🌸 So, you can expect him to have a difficult time with expressing feelings the right way. Getting neglected or friend zoned scares him. Occasionally he finds himself overthinking about the smallest things he ever said to you. Being in love is beautiful they say, but the feeling of not knowing if that love will exist on the other side surely frightens him. Until he knows you love him back, he's gonna be an emotional mess.

🌸 Nevertheless falling in love doesn't have only bad parts; Arthur uses you as a motivation to grow stronger. Unlike Cain, he does this to be able to protect you from any danger. Of course he's aware you're a strong individual yourself, but he can never be 100% sure.

🌸 On top of that, his emotional chaos teaches him to deal with emotions better. Arthur does have some rages of anger and loving you develops into a coping mechanism to secure his negative feelings towards himself and his surroundings. Yes, he does question himself quite often because of you, but he also learns to be someone more likeable and peaceful for the sake of you and himself. Arthur is willing to work on any flaws he might has, since improving is never a bad thing to do.

🌸 He does adore and love you, expressing it is a hard way for him, but with a lot of time he grows his confidence back and will be able to brag about you in full passion.

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Quick message from me!

Hey! Thank you for your request! I appreciate ur hugs, sending them back!!! This is my first time writing again after some time, and I'm glad I can make somebody's day better.