#I had never noticed he touches her leg in the second scene 🥺

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

GILMORE GIRLS | 2.22 x 6.18 ⤷ Jess gently trying to hold on to Rory as she breaks a kiss

[mandarinmoons]

lemme set the scene for u -

rossi’s wedding (please please can Derek be there 🥺🙏 idc if it’s the wrong time just please let him be there my hot choco)

anyways, shy little miss y/n is dating our fav boy genius and it’s about time to introduce her to the team, and when better to do it then when they’re all guaranteed to be in the same room together!

the team is very welcoming but also can be a bit touchy or overwhelming for reader cuz maybe she’s like spencer with the touching

uh if you didn’t think this was that boring and wanna do it you can change up literally whatever 😭 really just wanna see shy & awkward reader meet the team and spencer just stand there with an awkward smile supporting his gf as she fumbles over her greetings cuz uh that’s me

You smoothed down your dress as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Dresses aren’t something you usually wore, but duty called and you pulled out your emergency fancy clothes from the back of your closet, something you never thought you’d have to do for a long while. But here you were, going to a wedding with your boyfriend and meeting all of his teammates, also his friends, for the first time. However, this was more of like a two in one deal. The only family Spencer had in his life was his mother and his team was like a second family to him, which made this whole ordeal more unnerving.

“Hey, are you ready to- woah…”

Turning around you saw Spencer’s eyes wide as saucers as he took in your appearance. A beautiful floral dress hugged you at just the right places and showed off your figure, a sight which was clearly adored by your genius boyfriend.

Walking over to him, you rested your hand on his cheek and tapped his chin, “Close your mouth or else you’ll catch flies.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as a chuckle left your lips and it was soon muffled by Spencer’s lips finding your own, pressing a light kiss to them.

Pulling back, Spencer’s eyes were still on you, admiring your beauty while your gaze lingered to the side and a light sigh leaving your mouth.

“I’m nervous…”

“I know, but you’ll love everyone, trust me.”

“You haven’t been wrong yet, so.”

Spencer chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “And that day will never come.”

The drive to the venue was nerve wracking. Spencer gave background information on what everyone on the team was like as well as telling some of the funniest memories he’s had with each member. Hearing all the tales did help to ease some of the tension, but it would be a miracle if you’d be able to remember even the tiniest detail by the time you’d set foot in the chapel. Spencer may have an eidetic memory, but you’d be lucky to remember what you had for breakfast this morning.

Arriving at the destination, your shaky legs walked up the steps and Spencer’s hand rested on your waist to try and steady you.

The moment you walked through the door you heard someone gasp and the sound of heels running toward you filled your ears.

“You must be Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you!” a blonde woman you guess to be Penelope Garcia immediately comes over to introduce herself and you feel yourself freeze when she takes you in for a hug. You didn’t mind hugging, but when it came to someone you had just met 5 seconds ago, it was a bit much.

Spencer pulled Penelope off of you gently and told her you were a bit shy when it came to meeting new people and Penelope being the saint that she was, apologized right away and said she’d let you eat her piece of cake as a peace token.

Soon enough the rest of the team took notice of the woman Spencer brought along with him and with their interests peaked, made their way over to the both of you to see the new love birds.

Your breathing became a bit erratic as your space was filled with so many new faces that you didn’t know where to start and who to answer first. You didn’t mind meeting new people at all, but when there’s multiple questions coming from every corner you could think of, your brain shut down and your mouth dried up.

Spencer took notice of your change of behavior and excused both of you from everyone while he led you to the side.

“Are you okay?” Spencer’s hand rested on your cheek while his other hand was on your waist, his thumb gently rubbing over the fabric of your dress.

“Yeah, there’s just… so many people.”

Spencer nodded and brought you in closer as you rested your head on his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“How about you meet everyone one by one? Have some to talk to everyone a little so it’s not so daunting?”

“That works yeah.”

Spencer nodded and made his way back to the team with you by his side, taking a hold of his hand as if you were a child holding onto their parent’s arm on the first day of kindergarten.

Making your way back to everyone, you could see the concern written over their faces. You didn’t want them to think of you as this fragile girl who wasn’t able to be alone without her boyfriend and you hoped to God that they wouldn’t make fun of your behavior.

Later on as the ceremony was done and everyone had a blast dancing and chatting away, you managed to ground yourself and now here you were, chatting to the girls of The BAU about anything and everything. What had only been a few hours felt like you had known these girls for a lifetime.

The evening also included Derek and Luke taking turns dancing with you, Rossi sharing his famous pasta recipe and the highlight of the night being Spencer pulling you to the dance floor and trying his best to sweep you off of your feet with his dance moves. Knowing that he has two left feet when it came to dancing, it wasn’t hard to do.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile and laugh so much.”

“I guess your team is really good at bringing that out.”

“They really are.”

Looking to the side, you saw some of the members looking over at you and Spencer as you two slowly danced together and a chuckle fell from your lips as you heard Derek call out “Show her what you can do, pretty boy!”

Locking eyes with each other, you squealed as in one swift movement, Spencer dipped you and a second later his lips were on yours and from the side you heard everyone cheer.

“You really do have some moves, Doctor Reid.”

“You haven’t seen nothing yet.”

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[love-toxin]

Absolutely frothing at the mouth for ur recent leon stuff ESPECIALLY that last thing you just did w him I am SEXUALIZING this man please don't stop 😭😭💗💗

struck with the thought of Leon >>>>> moaning >>>>>> sweating, flexing during some reunion sex 🥺 even better if it's reunion AND makeup sex-!!!!

set the scene: you get into a huge fight with your boyfriend right before he's about to leave on another big trip, and Leon being Leon finds better solace in just leaving and electing to figure it all out later because he can't think well when he's pissed at you. plus he knows he's getting himself into even worse danger than you even know about, so it's better that he leaves you at home--and maybe it's better if you hate him too, so if and when he dies on this mission it won't hurt you as badly when you can remember him as a bastard. he hates it but what is he good for? pissing you off? that seems to be the only thing. so he leaves, and prays to gods he doesn't even believe in anymore that he'll be able to make this all up to you when he comes back.

but then Spain happens, shit hits the fan, and Leon gets some very disturbing news. apparently there's not only whispers of the girl he might be looking for around the church, but there's supposedly also another person being kept captive here if Luis' word is to be trusted. Leon's more concerned with having to escort two civilians rather than just the one, but he's got no clue who it could be. he doesn't even think it, it doesn't even cross his mind.

he's absolutely devastated and somehow relieved that it's you. that your beautiful eyes are the ones he lands on when he steps into the cell, your hand on Ashley's arm to comfort her and your breath visibly hitching in your throat when you see who your savior is.

and while it doesn't last long, it can't with where you are, you kiss and embrace and he squeezes those huge arms around your waist and you sob into his neck about how sorry you are, about how you wish you'd never yelled at him, how you prayed you'd see him again even though you don't deserve to. and Leon basically has you off your feet he's got you so wrapped up in his arms, murmuring at the same time that everything's gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay, he's not mad he's so sorry he argued with you, they're gonna pay for what they did to my baby. every scrape and bump and bruise will be repayed tenfold, he thinks as he grits his teeth and bites his cheek until it bleeds.

but no matter what comes next, it comes and goes in a blur. the shells exploding, blood and gore splattering over yours and Ashley's heads as Leon directs you away from danger, running and barely being clipped by Los Iluminados as they grab for you and the president's daughter. eventually, through all of those catastrophies, you and Leon find a moment to yourselves and you take it the second it's presented.

it matters little that you don't even have a bed, or you can barely get your clothes off because you need to be ready to shoot at a moment's notice--it's time for you both to express your apologies and you couldn't possibly have enough words to do so.

which is exactly why Leon lifts you off your feet like you weigh absolutely nothing, rubs you against his cock so easily it's like he's lowering a fleshlight to the tip, and guides you with both hands on your ass to sink down and take him inside, cloaked in nothing but a thin condom he had saved in his wallet for emergencies. he wants to take it slow but he can't, he wants to be gentle but you feel so good god he missed this.....the only respite he gets is from thinking about you and now that you're here, he's gonna let you hook your arms round his neck and your legs round his waist as he carries you, so you can bounce on his cock as much as you want without your feet ever touching the floor. suspended here for him, up high on his hips with your sweet holes stretched all the way out for him, this is what he wanted, what he craved for so long.

you still cry out your apologies, but they muffle themselves into his lips and disappear when he kisses them into moans. even covered in blood and dirt and sniffling as you whimper his name, you're still the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen and you've got the sweetest body he could ever imagine making love to. he adjusts his grip on you, watches you squeak with a twinge of pain as you slip a little further down and squeeze his head deeper into your shoulder--and he loves that, he loves that when you're hurt, you reach for him first. because you truly love him, don't you? he can't imagine you'd agree to fucking him in a ruined cabin if you didn't, much less be the one climbing in his lap and blubbering with that adorable pout because you just wanted him to hold you. that frustrated scowl from before he left is completely gone, and he couldn't be more relieved because he hates making you angry--and he knows that it was mostly his fault.

but you're so needy for him and he loves that. he loves that you can't get close enough as he holds you up, that you're basically drooling all over his mouth because he's fucking you so good your brain isn't working, and he loves that when he whimpers right back and does it so close to your ear, you scrabble for better purchase on his toned back and whine for him to keep going. be louder. you don't think it's girly or weird that he makes noise, in fact it turns you on to listen to him moan and beg and gasp for you like he's doing now. like you're a breath of pure, clean air and his lungs are drained and empty. he loves that it makes you clench around him when he does it, and that it turns you on just as much as his biceps that you're running a hand down to feel the way it flexes, as he slams your hips down to warm his full length inside that soft, tight heat he can't stop chasing.

he knows he has a job to do, but it just has to wait. Ashley can wait, Luis can wait, Hunnigan can wait, the whole world can wait--when he feels his cock twitching and he squeezes you down to the base to finish you off, those few moments of bliss you share together are the only things that matter. and while your walls are still spasming and clenching down on him and you're mewling his name and nothing else, Leon pulls you up prematurely and slides that awful, preventative sleeve of rubber off his dick and slings it aside to fall to the floor, before slowly settling you back on top to push into that addictive heat once more. he hasn't got another, and he doesn't care--those lone trickles of cum squishing right up inside you and your walls squeezing him for dear life feels more right than anything else he's done in his miserable life, and as long as nobody's interrupting you, Leon's not gonna stop for anything more.

[call-sign-shark]

Noooo Lora, don’t sue me 🥺 !!

I can only agree with you because I am not fond of SK’s way of dealing with relationship, especially with Arthur. Taking this into account, I’m even more honored that you think the relationship between Heaven and Arthur sounds as effortless as sincerely genuine love, because it something I’m trying to convey but that’s quite a difficult thing to do. You accurately describe this whole chapter: they barely know each other in term of past experiences or information, but still they accept and they love everything they already know about each other.

You’re right, it would not have worked with Linda whether she was sincere or not. As you said religion may help a lot, and surely it helped Arthur a little bit, but the way she tried to model him to her was not what he needed. She was far too controlling. Without expanding on the Linda topic, I think that’s one of the reason his relationship with Heaven works well: she doesn’t want to change him, she accepts and just want to keep him from doing far too destructive things like drugs.

Teehee Lora I’m delighted you think Hughes was a terrifying villain because I thought the same. He had a chilling something. And I hope you won’t be disappointed with his role because he’s definitely a key character in Heaven’s story!

In truth, I am stunned by your analysis, honey. This is only the second chapter and you’ve already pointed out how touch is primordial between the two of them. Arthur is literally touch-starved.

Regarding the description… YESS GIRLL 🤣🤣 Thank you so much for corroborate this 100% truthful description of Arthur. He’s just… All limbs lmao!! I’ve never notice how funny he looks in a car so I’ll pay great attention to that, but the scene that really struck me was during Tommy’s wedding: like when he runs around the fountain he literally stumble on his own legs because they are too tall 🤭 surprisingly enough Paul Anderson’s height isn’t that tall, but he has little body fat and long limbs so it gives off these vibes of him being a giant. To conclude; we can say that the two words that fits to him are leggy and mustache. 😬

Thank you so much for commenting and for reading this series, I’m enjoying your comment you can’t imagine how much 💚 also PLEASE keep adding a title song related to what you’ve read if you have some because that’s the best thing ever. I’ve already added the two Lana’s songs you told me about to my playlist and this one is PERFECT too, literally fits Linda/Arthur! Not only I don’t mind, but I’ll be impatiently waiting for it your HYE playlist sweety🥺💚

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

Summary:  Weeks passed since Arthur's first encounter with the woman of his life. From that day, you meet every night and part only when the morning comes. When Linda starts to suspect it, she decides it's time to remind him who is in charge. The thing is, Arthur cannot take it anymore and just want to be with you.

Words: 4k

TW: Angst, toxic relationship, narcissistic personality disorder, mention of witch hunt and death, implicit divorce, soulmates finding each other for good but hint of dependent relationship

Notes:

✞ Even though Linda tends to be a disliked character, this story does not want to demonize her but rather offers an reading of the character based on my interpretation and research on narcissistic personality disorder.

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

PART ONE || NEXT PART

When Arthur came back home at dawn, he could still feel the tingling sensation your gentle and cold fingers had left on his skin. His body collapsed on the sofa, repulsed by the simple idea of sleeping in the marital bed beside his controlling wife, for he was smitten with the divine creature he had met earlier. 

He wanted her. 

Only her.

And he wanted her so bad that it physically hurt.

The way she had touched him — like no other women did — had lit a blazing fire within. 

His whole being was burning with an unquenchable desire he was not really sure how to hold back. But more than a carnal appetite, it was his whole soul that was yearning for her. A feverish sigh escaped from his lips as his mind replayed each of their interactions again and again, like an old broken record: She had washed the blood from his face without the slightest wince nor hint of disgust. As the white cloth she used had turned entirely red, she looked at him with a soft gleam in her eyes, then laid a blessed kiss on his forehead. He remembered grabbing her wrists before she let go of his face and begging her not to leave. The look she had given him, full of divine mercy, almost brought tears back to his eyes. The Angel finally allowed him to rest his head on her lap. 

His memory blurred from this moment. All he could remember was how gently her hand stroke his hair. He had dozed off, lulled by her fresh spring-like perfume and by the way her nails grazed the shaved parts of his head.

Little he knew that what was supposed to be a fortunate and ephemeral miracle soon turned into an addiction — maybe the healthiest addiction he ever had. He eagerly waited for the night to come because he knew that, at the end of the day, she would wrap her arms around his neck and make every one of his problems fade away. This was how they had started to reunite each night, hidden from the world’s sight. 

Moon after moon, he would listen to her sing, her voice echoing through the church’s walls as it did the night fate had led him to her. Sometimes they would stay inside the church, talking until the sun rose and the birds chipped. Some other nights they would go for a walk, holding hands and finding comfort in each other’s presence. But ultimately, they would always end up laying in her bed, their fully-clothed bodies pressed together and their fingers intertwined,  with the firm will of never parting. And it was at the exact moment when the heat pooling under their skin became unbearable that their lips would brush against each other’s, shaky breaths melting together as they fervently waited for the other to break the small but oh-so-excruciating distance that was separating them.

But he never did — for he feared hurting her.

And she never dared — Afraid she would curse him.

“You came home late. Again,” Linda stated. Noticing the calm but devastating anger in her voice, Arthur opened his eyes and focused on the wall that was facing him.

“Told ya. Had to take a walk.” When she remained silent for more than a few terribly long seconds, his gaze shifted from the invisible spot he was staring at to look at her winter iris. Invisible knives stabbed him as she gave him the cold-eyes stare she used to do whenever he didn’t do what she wanted or what she had expected him to do. 

“Arthur. I already told you that working in the dark is —“

“For the Devil,” He finished off her sentence, “working in the dark is for the Devil. I know.”  Arthur growled,  too tired to suffer another Christian lecturing. As he swallowed, his calloused hand rubbed his throat as if it was looking for the invisible leash she had put around his neck. An invisible leash that had started to suffocate him after Tommy’s wedding.

“You know, I am trying to save you. But how come each night you leave the house and manage to sabotage each of my attempts to make God forgive you?” Her voice remained quiet, but each word she spat was coated with venom. Her personal dog was slipping through her fingers, disobeying her orders, and she could not stand it.

“Save me eh. “ Arthur repeated, his lips stretching in a crooked smile tainted with indescribable sorrow. There was a time he truly believed her — a time he thought Linda would see past the beast he was and treat him right, but she only trapped him in a loveless marriage. When she was not boring him with her endless religious sermons and metaphors, she would value herself by demeaning him.

By all means, Linda Shelby was a fierce woman who tended to give herself a superior appearance to others and felt an overwhelming need to be both admired and praised. Especially if it was at someone’s else expense.

He could have ripped her throat with his bare teeth, of course. He, Shelby’s unhinged mad dog.  But Arthur wanted so desperately to be loved that he had never dared to bite.

“Yes, save you. But I’m starting to think all my efforts are useless.  I helped you get off drugs. I brought you to church each Sunday despite ruining my reputation dating a Shelby and this is how you thank me? I am —“ She paused, only to step closer “ Deeply disappointed in you.” The expression on her face would have broken Arthur’s heart if she had not used the same trick countless times before. It was just a part of her strategy.

“Come on, Linda! Say it!” He snapped and jumped from the chair, facing her, “Say I’m not worthy of saving eh. Ye always say that kind of fookin’ things to me. One day I’m a poor misguided sheep, the other I am a shit not even worth stepping on. This ain’t goin’ to save me. Yer messing with me brain!”  He hit the left side of his head with his palm as he said so. 

Linda blinked, surprised by her husband’s audacity to bark at her.

“How… Dare you?” She whispered , feeling her self-control starting to break down. Despite the anger slowly building within, Linda was smart. Far too smart for lashing out on Arthur by yelling at him — For her, relationships were like a chess game. All she had to do was moving the right pawns to get people to do what she wanted, “Don’t you realize that I am the only one who will ever want you?”

Was it the sound of broken glass or a shattering heart? Arthur could not tell, for her murderous words had struck him with the violence of a guillotine’s blade on a prisoner’s neck. He took a few steps back, bewildered by what he had just heard. 

“Yes, you heard me right. When I found you in London you were fucking with these Eden Club’s whores because no one wanted you. You either scared women, or repelled them, and don’t be dumb enough to think it has changed.”

At this point of the conversation, his head started to get so dizzy he had to hold onto the chair’s backrest, “Don’t— Say — that.” He gritted through his teeth, nails digging into the varnished wood.

Closing his eyes, Arthur thought about you in an attempt not to burst into a destructive rage, but his heart only ached more at the possibility of you being afraid of or disgusted by him. What if she was right? What if you, God’s most beautiful Angel, would grow tired of him?  After all, you were a young and pure soul. And he was an old and sick bastard.

What could he give you, except a miserable life  in Small Heath and the negative influence it has upon people?

Linda sneaked behind Arthur with a wild cat’s grace and put one of her delicate hands on his chest. The unwanted physical contact snatched him from his thoughts. He reopened his steel blue eyes, shining with both anger and pain. A part of him — the self-depreciating one —  wanted to fall on his knees and beg her for forgiveness, knowing far too well that placing his hopes in you was a vain thing to do. No one would ever want him, she said.  Let alone you, Heaven, the most beautiful and holy creature he had ever seen.

“So now,” the tone she was using had turned from venom into sugar again “You will first apologize to me and, then, promise me to stop leaving at night no matter the reason behind those nocturnal getaways. I don’t care if it’s for family business or for a young slut. You’ll stay here and be a good husband, will you?”

And that was how she always won arguments without raising her voice once. Pushing the right buttons and using a punishment/reward method with Arthur was efficient enough to keep him under her thumb.  Now, she knew he was going to feel awful for yelling at her and he would seek for her tenderness, afraid she would leave him. Maybe he would cry, maybe not, but as long as he remained obedient it did not really matter. That was what usually happened. Or at least, that was how it would have happened before you and he met, for he could afford to lose Linda but not his angel. In fact, he would rather rot in hell than give up on you. 

“Go choke on yer apologies, Linda. Ya don’t seem to realize that I’m already saved, and ya had nothing to do with it ”  

When, with eyes wide open and trembling hands on her mouth, Linda Shelby realized she had lost for the first time in her life, the door slammed so violently it felt the whole house was shaking, within an inch of collapsing on her head. 

If there was one thing you missed from your home town it certainly was the mountain forests of your childhood. There was a comforting feeling in walking through the green vastness of the woods, birds' whistles and streams’ whispers for only companions. When you first came to Birmingham, you felt like suffocating: the noise, the smell, the swarming people…  You had trouble handling it for weeks. The truth was, you cried yourself to sleep almost every night, wishing to wake up in your beloved French Alps. But, deep inside, you knew that coming back to Haute Falaise would be a death sentence. 

Even though the bedroom you rented from Lucy, the lovely widow who managed the place, was located near a mock forest, it was nothing compared to the mighty splendor of the mountains’ landscape. Still, you understood that crying would not resolve your problems so you did what you did the best: raising your head and taking the blows… And here you still were.

You had just finished brushing the horse’s mane when Lucy came, arms crossed on her generous bosom.

“There’s a man waiting for you at the door.” 

“A man?” Your brows furrowed for you expected no one. Making friends had never been an easy task for you, even more considering they were all scared of you and your white hair.

“Tall, all limbs, cold blue eyes, and a mustache.”  Lucy stared at you, waiting for your answer to know if she should welcome the visitor or if she could chase him with her broom — the landlady was not a very social woman. Even though you remained silent, the surprised and shy expression that appeared on your juvenile face gave her an answer, “ Alright… But if you plan to fuck, I’d ask you to clean the bedsheet yourself.” She added. 

You would have died from shame right on the spot if Arthur’s presence did not occupied your thoughts. Heart racing in your chest, you walked to the door but the tall blonde woman, whose face remained placid as always, grabbed your arm as you went past her. 

“Heaven. He’s a Peaky Blinders.” 

“I know Lucy.” 

“And this one is the most dangerous.”

The frozen blizzard of her eyes warmed when she stared at you, silently begging you to be careful around this kind of men, especially when they bore the name of Arthur Shelby. She, along with all of Birmingham, was aware of his violent nature and did not want him to put you in a vulnerable position.

“Well. My mother used to call me dangerous too.”

“Hm.”

She let go of your arm when her sharp senses noticed love coursing through your veins. Lucy sighed…

It was already too late.

As soon as Arthur saw you running to him, your long ivory mane dancing in the wind and your aquamarine eyes shining with excitement, the weight of his dark thoughts magically lightened. His morose mood vanished, swept by the way your hypnotizing body swung at each step. It was the first time someone looked at him the way you did, genuinely radiating with joy at his simple presence many dreaded. In many ways, he was used to glimmers of fear and hatred or, at best, pity, in the eyes of those staring at him, but not that deep and sincere affection you always blessed him with. His lips stretched in an enamored smirk, his mustache slightly lifting as he did.

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” You asked.

Words choked in his throat, for the way the pale sunlight reflected on your delicate porcelain skin clouded his mind with confusing and intense urges. His strong, calloused hands grasped your hips with hast, almost bruising you in the process. Yet, you wrapped his neck with your arms far from being repelled by the firmness of his possessive grip. Quite the contrary, his overwhelming need of owning you made you feel safe. 

“Arthur?”  You called him again softly, but he remained silent,  mesmerized by your beauty he never had the chance to observe by day. A light, hoarse chuckle escaped from his mouth. 

“I can’t help but wonder where your wings are each time I see you, love.” His smile widened when he noticed the adorable pink shade that had just appeared on your cheeks. 

“Don’t try to change the conversation, what are you doing here?” Fire burnt within as his hands tightened their grip even more, and his thumb started to caress your hip in circular movements.

“Couldn’t wait for tonight. And to be true, I can’t fookin’ wait at all. My body and heart yearn for ya. It’s like a slow acting poison running through my veins, infecting me brain. And it feels good only when I’m with you.” 

Boom. Boom. Your heartbeat echoed in your whole rib cage, its pace so brutal that you were pretty sure it was about to burst your chest open.  Moisturing your lips with the shy tip of your tongue, you did your best to muzzle your emotions. 

“I missed you too. You know… I feel like I come back to life when the moon rises.” Mission failed, your heart spoke far too quick than your rational mind, even though your voice was merely a whisper —  In spite of all your love, the man was not yours and he will never be. 

At your words, Arthur let out a long relieved exhale and leaned over you, burying his nose in your neck. A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation of his mustache tickling your sensitive skin.  Usually, he would rub it in your neck to make you laugh but today he was not in the mood to torture you. All he wanted was to keep you in his arm and never let you go. His ardent breath, fanning over you, made you realize how close his mouth was, and this sole thought almost drove you crazy.  You ran your small hand through his hair and brought him closer— but it was never enough. No matter how close you were, there was always too much space, too much clothes, too much of everything between you and him.

Arthur closed his eyes and drown in your perfume, whose floral and green fragrances reminded him the smell of Lily-of-the-valley. And even if he had never dare to use his lips on you yet, he started kissing your collar bone for he could not resist anymore.

“Fuck—“ You breathed and bit your lower lip, trapping it between your teeth while you tried not to give in to the fuzzy sensation that was numbing your whole being. 

His mouth kept conquering your skin, tingling kisses trailing up your neck first, then your jaw, and your cheek. With one skilled movement, his hips crashed against yours and hugged your forms with a tailored perfection — He was convinced God created you for him and nothing could change his mind. One of his powerful hands left your hips only to catch your chin and raised your face for you to look at him. You felt overwhelmed and intoxicated, surges of electricity running through your body as the Celeste blue of your eyes dug into the steel blue of his. 

“Arthur— No. You’re married.”  The words that had just escaped your mouth left a bitter taste on your tongue. Your face turned to the side, denying him access to your lips. 

“Is that the problem, love?”  Arthur was still staring at your lips, forehead pressed against your head. Strands of hair were falling in front of his face, now darkened with a shade of anger. He was not mad at you, far from it, but your anxiety about his marriage reminded him of the foul things Linda had said to him a few hours ago. He swallowed, gathering all his strength to keep his calm even though you had already met that monstrous part of him the night you had cleaned the blood off his face. Somehow, Arthur knew you accepted him as he was — contrary to Linda who wanted to change him — but his protective nature told him to spare you from his tantrums.

“It is indeed one of the two problems that keep me from kissing you, Shelby. You know the nature of my feelings for you, dear, but if I resisted the temptation of your lips for months it’s not to give in now. I don’t want to be the other woman.”

Arthur backed off, jaw clenched. Then, he raised his left hand to display the golden ring he had never taken off since his wedding day.  “So it’s that damn thing that bothers ya,” He paused,  only to look at you and your otherworldly beauty. Sometimes he had still trouble realizing you were real,  “lemme tell you something… It ain’t a wedding ring. It’s a fookin’ noose and I don’t want it anymore.” At these words, he took it off and threw it as far as he could with one powerful movement. The ring, whose golden surface reflected the pale sun rays, flew away and ended in the small stream nearby. As soon as it touched the water, the stream's flow carried it away.

You looked at him, speechless and bewildered by what he just did.

“Fook Linda, and fook my vows. I don’t want ya to be the other woman, I want ya to be me woman.”  The gravel in his voice sent a shiver through your spine.  He looked at you, arms open, silently asking what else he had to do for you to belong to him. 

Admittedly, Linda had been one impediment to your relationship with Arthur, but it was out of respect rather than anything else. What really terrified you though, was the consequences of your love upon the man.

“You don’t understand Arthur,” This time tears flooded your vision, for if Linda was a resolvable problem, the other obstacle was engraved in your flesh, “They say I’m cursed.” 

His long arms fell down along his body, not quite comprehending what you meant by "cursed". The tall gangster remained petrified for what seemed to be an eternity, his mind proceeding with this information. You had always been mute about your past — all he knew was that you came from France and people thought you were some kind of witch. But as superstitious as he was, he would not let stupid rumors ruin you. You were everything he needed, everything he prayed for, cursed or not. And at this point, he was just saddened by the distorted image you had of yourself. How he would have loved to lend you his eyes so that you see yourself through his lights.  This is why he broke the distance you had set between you and him and pressed his warm and rough hand gently against your cheek. 

“You ain’t cursed. Who told you that?”

“Father Hughes.”

“He’s a cunt. And even if he’s right, you can be their curse, but it doesn’t mean yer not me blessing eh.” 

“But — “ The sun reflected on your crystal tears, making them shine as if melted diamond streams were overflowing from your heavenly eyes. What people had always said about you was still somewhere behind your brain, hanging onto it with their claws dug deeply into your synapses. They kept you awake at night, along with the villagers’ chants, the menacing pyre, and the stones cast at you.

“You’ll die if you stay by my side.” You muttered between heartbreaking sobs, whose ache would make stones weep.

“You don’t seem to understand, love. I’ll die if I don’t.”  He spoke all the while lovingly pressing his forehead against yours, pulling you into a tender embrace — It was at that very moment you discovered that his tenderness had the power of chasing your sorrows away.

Silence fell down on the two lovebirds, whose silhouettes embellished Lucy’s garden. Arthur’s lips brushed against yours, still unsure if you wanted it or not. Yet, the way your mouth slightly parted left no doubt of your consent. He leaned over you to break the distance but, as he did, you gently backed up but only to tease him this time. He growled, his hoarse voice making your soul vibrate. 

“Kiss me, eh.” He complained, with a low tone.

Your lips still grazed his, gently, ghostly, like an angel’s feather.  Arthur inhaled your breath and the feverish sigh that followed made you flicker like a candle flame. That was only when the wait became unbearable, almost physically painful, that your mouths collapsed, like rogue waves crashing against the shore’s stones.  As you were finally giving in to your desire, a firework of sensations exploded within and eluded everything that surrounded you. 

He smelt like whiskey and musky aftershave, but he tasted like honey and sadness. 

Among all the drugs he had taken, all the alcohol he had consumed, and the women he had known, the sensation of your tongue lightly touching his with an adorable shyness was so ecstatic that it rendered his past vices bland and empty. The world melted under your feet. Arthur embraced you tighter, feeling the need to be pressed against every inch of your body he could rob from you and jail them in this timeless moment. Your lips slightly shifted to the side so you could catch your breath, but he kept kissing the edge of your mouth, hungry for more and more. He did not want to let you go for the life of his. No matter if he had to suffocate in the process.

“I love you, Heaven.” He mumbled between kisses.

It was all it took — along with the pleasant caress of his mustache on your face — to convince you to give up on breathing too and devour his lips a second time, fiercely. As you pulled him in a second kiss, Arthur’s hand left your cheek only for him to run his long fingers through your magnificent hair, whose ivory color suited you so well. To be true, he really fancied that unusual physical trait of yours; given how he always played with some of your long white strands. Your tongues danced one last time together and as they did, his demons found a cure in yours.

Arthur pulled away reluctantly, knowing he had to let you go. He had a meeting at the Garrison with his brothers to talk about the Russians. You laid a soft kiss on his chin, waiting for him to break your embrace.

But he never did — for he feared losing you.

And you never dared — Afraid he would shatter without your touch.

Any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom. I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven.

Ask if you wanna be tagged in future Peaky Blinders Works.

Peaky Blinders Requests are open.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

[machiavelien]

I'd love to see some fluff Spideychelle hurt/comfort with Peter signing MJ's cast after she hurts her ankle on an adventure! :)

Sorry this is so late nonny! I LOVE this prompt, especially as a switch-up on PeterMJ hurt/comfort scenes 🥺 Here’s some pre-FFH fluff for you my dear!

"Do you wanna sign it?"

Peter looks up, not realizing that MJ was talking to him until he notices that the rest of the AcaDec team has already left. They're the last two people in the classroom.

"Uh, sure?"

He'd been spending all of practice trying to think of an excuse to hang out with MJ afterwards, only to have her beat him to it. She swings her leg around to rest it across his lap and Peter gulps. 

MJ had broken her ankle under mysterious circumstances--mysterious in that no one has dared to ask her about what happened, and she hasn't told anyone, at least as far as Peter knows.

"You okay there, Parker?"

He nods, trying not to think too much about her how her shorts are riding up her thighs as she wriggles to get more comfortable in this position.

"Yup, never better," he manages to say, taking the marker she's offering in her outstretched hand.

(Read the rest on AO3 or under the cut)

(continued)

Careful to avoid touching her bare skin, he cradles her leg awkwardly as he looks for an empty spot on her cast. He frowns when he sees Brad Davis' name next to some doodle that sounds like an inside joke. 

But he forgets his annoyance when MJ starts wiggling her toes, the ones sticking out of the end of the plaster. They're cute, and it's strange to think anything of Michelle Jones' as cute, but it's true.

Peter blinks and turns back to the task at hand, beginning to scrawl his name on her cast in block letters. Thinking about MJ has been the distraction he's needed since everything that happened on Titan, and his imagined dates with her were a welcomed escape from his ever present nightmares.

But he's never considered what it'd be like to be this physically near her before, and he's not prepared.

She's so close that he can feel her breath exhaling softly against the side of his neck, and he can't help noticing that she smells really nice, like strawberries and cream shampoo.

Her face is calm, almost bored as she watches him from beneath her lashes, but he can hear her heartbeat quicken with every second longer that he takes. So he drags the blue marker across the surface of the cast slowly, prolonging this moment for as long as he can. Unfortunately his body is reacting faster than he'd like.

"How did you hurt your ankle?" he asks in a desperate bid to distract himself from how close her leg is from his crotch.

Licking her lips, MJ looks over her shoulder to make sure they're alone, and that makes Peter's ears suddenly feel hot. 

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" she asks.

He nods, his arms still cradling her leg.

"I fractured my ankle fighting a bunch of mobsters, when I roundhouse kicked a thick-headed one with the wrong shoes on. Because the truth is…" She takes a deep breath and sighs loudly, "I'm Spider-Man."

Peter stares at her deadpan expression for a moment before chuckling softly and shaking his head. "Okay, you got me for a second there."

MJ doesn't respond and just keeps observing him, but she doesn't move her leg off him either.

"I do wish I had super healing, though," she muses, sitting back and breaking the tension. "It's going to suck having a cast for another few weeks. I bet Spider-Man can just walk off an injury like this in like, a day."

"More like an hour," Peter replies without thinking, shading in the P's of his name.

"Oh yeah? How would you know?"

"Uh... Ned and I have been tracking his fights, and how long it takes him to heal in between," he explains quickly, the lie rolling off his tongue with ease. 

"How observant of you," MJ notes.

"But, um, if you need anything at all in the meantime, while you've still got the cast on," he starts, not sure of what he's offering exactly. "I mean, like getting stuff from school or, uh..."

"A piggyback ride?" she suggests, again completely deadpan.

He lets out a soft laugh. "Sure. Yeah. Anything you'd like, MJ."

A small but real smile breaks out on her face, a smile he's never seen before. It makes him feel a little dizzy, like he's just stood up too fast, and he decides that he's going to do everything he can to see that smile again.

"Does it hurt?" he asks when he feels her leg shift.

She shakes her head. "Nah. I just hope it heals in time for the science trip. I've never been to Europe before, and I don't want to be doing it on crutches."

"Oh, I didn't know you're going on that trip."

She nods. "Yeah, you?"

Peter hadn't been planning to--it's expensive, and Midtown's financial aid budget had gotten unexpectedly stretched thin when half the student body returned, so the flights would completely be out-of-pocket. But if MJ was going…

"Maybe," he replies, hoping he sounds aloof instead of uncertain. "Sounds pretty cool."

"The last stop on the itinerary is Paris,” she adds in a quieter voice. “Did you know the Catacombs there house the remains of over six million Parisians from the 18th Century? Cemeteries were running out of space, so some bodies weren’t buried properly and ended up spreading disease. So the solution was to chuck all those corpses into these quarries beneath the city."

"I did not know that. That definitely sounds way more romantic than the Eiffel Tower," jokes Peter, which makes her smile again, and his heart does a little jump as he high fives himself in his mind. 

"Totally," she agrees. "But it takes a hundred and thirty steps to get down to the Catacombs, which I can't pull that off with this plaster boot."

"Well, like I said before, if you need a piggyback ride around Europe, I'm happy to, uh… be your steed?"

"You're so weird," she snorts, but she won't meet Peter's eyes this time, letting her bangs cover her face. He almost reaches over to brush her hair out of the way, catching himself before he forgets where they are.

So he lets his hand drop, but the back of it accidentally grazes the soft skin of her inner thigh, and her breath hitches almost imperceptibly. Their eyes meet at the same time, and he jerks his hand back.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

The air between them shifts, the bubbly giggliness of before is heavier, charged with something else now. Goosebumps prickle along his skin, the soft hairs standing on end as he stares at MJ's fingers tugging at the cuffs of her shorts. 

Then her phone vibrates, buzzing against the desk and breaking the spell. 

Realizing how far down she's slouched into his lap, MJ sits up abruptly, and Peter mourns the sudden loss of the weight and warmth of her leg in his lap.

"My mom's here to pick me up," she explains, looping her backpack over one shoulder and reaching for her crutch. Peter helps her get up and she thanks him, teetering on one foot.

"I hope you can come on the trip," she says over her shoulder. "Y'know, in case I need a piggyback ride into some subterranean crypts."

"Yeah, I'll try," he nods, watching her leave. "Remember to wear boots in Europe. In case you have to run somewhere or fight off any mobsters again, ankle support is important."

"That's right," she nods, that little smile is playing on her lips again, and then she's gone. 

That's when the gears begin turning in Peter's mind, and his fantasies about MJ settling into a step-by-step plan, starting with signing up for the school trip.